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CHAPTER 176 – SETTLING
IN
NOVEMBER 20,
2009
THURSDAY
12:45PM
Giles maneuvered the car
through London traffic, trying to avoid the busiest roads, a feat
none-too-easy at this time of day.
For his part, William answered Giles' mild questions, all the while
looking out on a city, that to his mind, he'd only been away from
for only a little more than a year, but which now showed over a
century's change.
Where are we going?" William
asked,
"Greenwich."
William nodded absentmindedly.
"Was there once or twice, when I was a youngster. Saw the
docks."
"Still there," Giles answered,
with a smile. The park, too. A lovely place, really, and I'm only a
few blocks away, should you want to take a walk some time. Giles
went on describing to William the neighborhood’s antique stores,
bookshops, museums and parks, and other points of interest in, and
around, the area.
"Were crossing the river now,"
Giles said, he headed southward. He didn’t have to mention the name;
there could be only one river.
"The Thames," William
whispered, mostly to himself. He stared out at the majestic river,
which served as a natural boundary, dividing the city north from
south, poor from rich, industry from mercantile, monarch from
subject. At least it used to more so in his day. Not that the
monarchs didn't have castles, property, and other vast holdings,
over the whole of London, as well as the rest of the
country.
Wesley informs me you attended
Oxford," Giles said. If someone had told Giles back in Sunnydale
that Spike had attended Oxford, he would’ve laughed right in
their face. However, having met William last April as a
human, and very much as he had been over one hundred years ago, this
new knowledge didn’t surprise him much. "Great school, though I’m a
Cambridge man myself. Perhaps while you’re here, we could take a day
trip to Oxford, so you might have a look around again, if you’d
like."
William nodded distractedly,
but didn’t comment. At this point, he was on sensory overload. Giles
noticed William's responses grow more and more reticent and finally
stopped asking questions, or narrating. That suited him fine, as
he'd had to work extra hard because of the novocaine anyway. He
wasn't sure what he was even going to do with the former
William the Bloody, except most likely drive a very big wedge
between him and Buffy, for his not letting her know of William
staying with him.
Giles drove on in
silence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Almost there," Giles said, as
he turned off the main road, and onto a quiet, residential
neighborhood. The brick houses all seemed fairly large, though
nearer to its neighbor than what he had been used to growing up.
Still, this was part of London, and historically, space was at a
premium. Mr. Giles explained to him that some of the larger houses,
were actually two or three family dwelling flats. His, on the other
hand, was formerly a flat for two families, but he’d bought the
building, and over the years, converted it to a single residence.
"Here we are," Mr. Giles said,
pulling in front of the converted flat on Winforton
Street.
At first glance it seemed like
a rather large house, symmetrical on each side, but on further
inspection, it did rather seem like two separate residences stuck
together by a central door and middle section. Each side had it’s
own peculiarities and differences, from the windows, to the shape of
the roof above the upper floors.
Giles smiled wryly on noticing
the perplexed look on William’s face.
"Bit of an oddity, isn’t
it?"
"Almost optical
illusion."
"Yes, quite. Well, let’s get
your bags and get you settled."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
3:00PM
The main hallway, brightly lit
from natural light from upper floor windows, contrasted with the
dark honeyed bronze color of the walls. In the center of the hallway
was a gracefully curved, cream colored stairway leading to the
second and third floors; its light color set off by a dark tapestry
runner, and dark wooden banister. A strange feature was the presence
of a fireplace, or at least the remnants of a former one, in the
hallway. It looked as though cream colored trim, matching that of
the doorways, had been added around and above the former fireplace.
The rectangle area above now used as a serve-through to the kitchen
area.
One doorway on the right lead
to the study/office area, the other, the first floor bathroom. On
the left was a small parlor; the walls were dark, almost olive
green, while the baseboards, trim, and ceiling was done in a soft
yellow-cream. A mirror above the small, ornate gas-log fireplace
made the room appear larger. An old-fashioned clock, the only thing
to grace its mantle. The dark wood, Victorian styled furniture sat
along the edges of a rich, Persian carpet in the room’s center. The
only thing modern was a chandelier, which was one of those made to
appear old. Framed pictures of famous Englishmen out of history
completed the look.
William followed Giles through
another doorway to the dark, copper hued kitchen. Here, the trim
work was rough looking in comparison to the parlor; a knotty pine
look, reminiscent of the Wild West, in William's mind. However, the
small, brick fireplace on one wall reminded him of English, rather
than American homes; at least what he knew of them. All in all, it
was a modernized kitchen, with a nod to the West.
Off the kitchen, was a small,
enclosed porch leading out to a large, communal green space,
connecting all the other bordering residences in the neighborhood.
Mr. Giles told him that it was called The Knoll, due to the rise in
the middle, and that although technically, it belonged to the town
of Greenwich, the residents took care of it, more or less. However,
since the town's ordinance prevented anyone from fencing in their
backyards; he didn't bother planting much of a
garden.
"Not to be confused with
The Grassy Knoll. Never mind," Giles said; realizing
William wouldn’t have any memory of that, although Spike
surely would have.
"The Kennedy assassination? I
saw a documentary once; a terrible thing," William said, shaking his
head. Softly he added, "Elizabeth thought I should catch up on
common knowledge."
"Ah, of course," Giles said
clearing his throat. "Well, actually our knoll is also
referred to as Mini Point. The Point being a much larger
grassy knoll a block or so over. You can see it from the upper
floors," Giles explained. "You can also see beyond all the way to
Black Heath. You’d be able to even see Greenwich Park, except that
the house’s windows aren’t facing that
direction."
Off the other side of the
kitchen, was the dining room. As the kitchen had no table of it’s
own; this was where all meals were taken. The dining room walls were
dark mahogany, trimmed with the same soft yellow-cream as the rest
of the rooms.
After the tour, Giles took
William up to the third floor. "It's bright now," he said, referring
to the two sets of windows - one facing The Knoll, the other,
larger one facing the front; under which sat a decorative settee.
"At night though, you'll need these," he said, flipping a switch,
which turned on the light in the center of the hallway, as well as
two sconces, one next to each door.
"This is your room," Giles
said, opening the door on the left.
William's eyes swept around
the bright room, which was a good size, despite the walls slanting
on two sides, as they conformed to the gabled shape of the roof. The
cream, patterned wallpaper, which covered the walls and ceiling,
offset the dark wood furniture. On the lower half of the walls, were
reproductions of masters such as Renoir, Matisse, and Monet, also
framed in dark wood for the most part. The wood floor was almost
fully covered by a dark green Persian rug, with a large cream and
maroon flower design throughout.
Across the room was the bed.
Between the window and the foot of the bed sat a regular dining
table, and three chairs. A lace tablecloth hung over the edge; in
the middle sat an old-fashioned light, the sort that held fuel in
its base. A dresser with a tall mirror sat further back in the
corner, and next to it, some smaller tables, and of particular
interest to him, a bookcase, with what looked like many, many
volumes of old classics.
Against the nearest wall was a
large wooden steamer chest, a small night table, on top of which was
a pitcher and bowl, the sort used to wash and shave with, before
bathrooms; the sort he'd used daily as a young man. He wondered if
they were still used in England, and if he was expected to use it,
as there was no bathroom, or loo, as Mr. Giles had referred to it,
on this floor. He was thinking he was only glad that there were no
longer any chamber pots, having been happily spoiled by modern
plumbing, when he saw something next to the bed.
"You'll have to excuse the
hodgepodge of furniture in here. I gave you the larger room, and
moved out what I could, but I didn't have room for everything across
the hall, and downstairs."
"It's very nice,"
William assured him quickly, hoping he hadn't done anything to give
Mr. Giles the wrong impression.
"If you need an extra blanket,
there are some in the trunk. Oh, and if you’d like a desk up here,
rather than the table, I think we could arrange
that."
"No, it’s fine," William said,
then hesitatingly added, "I have a question."
"Yes?"
William nodded towards the
object next to his bed.
Giles looked towards where
William was directing his glance, and grinned.
"I bought it at an estate
sale, just as an antique, an object ‘d art, if you will.
You’re very welcomed, and most encouraged to use the regular loo on
the second floor," Giles said, with a chuckle.
"Oh thank God," William said,
letting out a sigh of relief.
"Why don’t you take some time
to relax for a while? You’ve had a long journey, and you’re bound to
have jet lag."
"I guess I am a bit tired,"
William conceded.
Giles nodded knowingly. "Why
don’t you come downstairs in about an hour? I’m sure Mrs. Greeves
won’t mind serving an early dinner," he said, referring to the
housekeeper who William had met briefly, when they’d come
in.
"Thank you," William
said.
Giles nodded and left William
alone.
After unpacking, William
stretched out on top of the white down comforter that lay on the
bed. He took out the pocket watch and flipped it open. Although he’d
changed his wristwatch, he’d kept that one on California time. It
was now just a little past eight in the morning in Julian - almost
exactly a day to the hour since he’d left; only a day since
he’d seen or touched Elizabeth, but the distance made it already
seem like so much more.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
3:30PM
He hadn’t meant to fall
asleep, only close his eyes for a while, just in order to alleviate
the headache that had once again come back to plague him. He awoke
with a start and looked at his watch. He got up quickly and went
down to the second floor to use the bathroom, and freshen up, then
down to the main floor.
He didn’t hear anything, as he
looked throughout the rooms. The dining room table was set, but
there was no evidence of any food being eaten recently. The kitchen
likewise, was empty. He walked through it, and came out into the
main passage. He heard soft music coming from what Mr. Giles had
called his office/living room.
"Ah, William," Giles said,
seeing him tentatively stick his head in the doorway. "Have a nice
nap?"
"Um, yes. I’m sorry; I didn’t
mean to fall asleep for so long."
"That’s quite alright. Mrs.
Greeves wasn’t happy, but then again, I don’t believe she ever is,"
he said with a slight smile. "However, I did make her keep your meal
warm. It’s in the oven. You must be hungry,
yes?"
William nodded.
"Good, why don’t I get that
out, then?"
William followed Giles to the
kitchen, where he pulled out a crock full of a hearty beef stew,
covered by a heavy glass lid. As soon as Mr. Giles took it off, the
aroma assailed his senses, and his stomach gurgled in
anticipation.
Giles ladled out a big bowl
for William, and took it over to the dining room table. On the
buffet, he cut some slices of sourdough bread and brought that,
along with some butter to the table.
"Would you care for a beer?"
William started to accept,
then thought better of it. "Could I bother you for some tea,
instead?"
"Certainly. You go ahead and
get started, while I fix that; no need to wait."
Giles brought the pot back in
a few minutes; smiling when he saw that William had made short
shrift of the stew. He refilled his bowl from the pot, then sat down
and drank his own cup of tea, as he watched
William.
"I was thinking that after
your dinner, I might show you around Greenwich a bit, while there’s
still a bit of daylight left, if that’s alright with you. Unless
you’d just rather stay in; I’ll leave it up to
you."
"That would be alright,"
William said.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
5:30PM
For over an hour, Mr. Giles
had driven around both Greenwich and Black Heath, stopping to show
William the various sites, some of which he’d seen in his day, some
much newer, such as the monstrosity known as Millennium
Dome.
"This is where the world
starts," Mr. Giles had said, when he stopped in front of the Royal
Observatory in Greenwich Park. "It’s where East is divided from West
at the Prime Meridian; longitude 0° 0' 0'', and Greenwich Mean Time
is the basis of every world time zone which sets the time of day and
is at the center of the time zone map."
"I thought I remembered my
father telling me that it was in France," William
remarked.
"He was quite right; it was in
France, until they moved it here in 1884, when they changed the
coordinates then. I don’t suppose the French were very happy with
it, I’d dare say," Giles said with a chuckle.
"I don’t suppose so," William
agreed.
Now they sat in the popular
Trafalgar Tavern; Giles having ended the tour here, after pointing
out the building a few blocks away, which now housed the New Council
of Watchers.
"Here you go," Giles said,
handing William a draught as he took his seat opposite
him.
"Thanks," William said,
pensively looking out the windows at the river.
Giles studied him across the
table. "So, what do you think, William?"
William turned to look at him;
"It feels like I’m starting all over...again. When I first came
back, I didn’t know any different. I just thought all my
memories of being a young man were purely some sort of fabrication
my mind had invented. After all, how could they have been true?
Being here now...it feels as though I've only been away a short
time, but everything is different, as if I'm some sort of time
traveler."
"Well, I guess in a way, you
are. Being human once again, and not remembering anything in
between; that makes you very much like a time
traveler."
William didn’t
respond.
Giles took off his glasses,
polishing them on a napkin, before replacing them. "If I may say so,
you’ve done remarkably well. You caught up to your contemporaries in
only..."
"Contemporaries?" William
said, bitterness creeping into his voice, "I have no
contemporaries, my contemporaries are dead and
buried!"
Giles took a deep breath. With
William looking so much like Spike, it was an effort he was well
aware he was making not to say something sarcastic out of years of
habit. Whereas, William needed to be treated with kid gloves, Spike
never deserved any such treatment; at least as far as he saw
it.
"Yes, that’s true. However,
you know that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean your true
chronological contemporaries from when you were born, but from the
age that you came back at now. You are very much capable of being in
step with them in every way. I’d say Buffy was a very fine teacher
in that regard, but I’d also venture to say, she had a good student
to work with."
William smiled a bit at the
former statement. Elizabeth had showed him the world, and
what it felt like to be a man in it. At least he thought he’d had it
all figured out, until he’d found out he’d not been a man, but a
monster for over one hundred years.
They finished their beer in
silence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After they’d returned from the
pub, Mr. Giles had invited William into the study for a nightcap.
Not wanting to offend, he’d accepted. His stomach now painfully
reminding him that it would be best all the way around for him to
find another way to be sociable in the future. The two men had
talked of the differences between The States and England, about the
different sports, and about general topics. Thankfully, the
conversation had stayed light, even when it turned towards Elizabeth
and her friends.
"Well, William, it’s been a
long day for you, and I suspect you’re more tired than you’re
letting on. What do you say we call it a night?"
At the thought of sleep, an
unbidden yawn escaped William’s mouth. "Guess I am at that, Mr.
Giles."
"Please, call me
Giles."
"Giles," William repeated,
getting up and starting toward the hallway after his
host.
"You’ll probably still be
asleep when I leave in the morning, William. I’ll instruct Mrs.
Greeves to let you rest. If she’s not here when you awaken, you’ll
find your breakfast in the oven."
"Thank you," William
said.
"I just like to suggest, if
you haven’t already done so, though there’s no rush; you might try
to put into writing, the exact things you hope to accomplish while
you’re here, and what it is you would like from me."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1:00AM
NOVEMBER 21,
2009
FRIDAY
Once in his room, William sat
at the table for nearly an hour, trying to organize his thoughts
enough to write them down in the journal he’d found on top of the
bookcase. A note indicated it was for his use. . However, the words
wouldn’t come, and all he could do was to sit there, dumbly staring
at the blank pages. Now, almost two hours later, William lay on the
bed, staring up at the ceiling as he thought about the last
twenty-four hours, the man from the plane and his
accusation, and the question Mr. Giles had posed to
him.
Getting up, he walked
across the room, and reached into his coat, retrieving what he was
looking for, and brought it back to the bed with him. Before leaving
the house in Julian yesterday morning, he’d spotted one of
Elizabeth’s camisoles lying on the bathroom floor, and in a
spur-of-the-moment decision, stuffed it into his coat's pocket.
Closing his eyes, he lightly ran the silky garment over his face,
inhaling the lingering scent of her it held. The words Giles had
spoken earlier that evening ran though his mind as he drifted off to
sleep; "This is where the world
starts."
END CHAPTER
176
CHAPTER 177 – IN THE
BEGINNING
NOVEMBER 21, 2009
FRIDAY
10:30AM
Mrs. Greeves sighed, looking up the stairs with a scowl
on her face. Mr. Giles had said his guest would likely be sleeping
in, but this was ridiculous. The food she’d been keeping on warm in
the oven was surely becoming inedible after three hours despite it
being on low, and she didn’t have time to make a fresh breakfast
before returning to make Mr. Giles’ midday meal as well. She’d put
off her vacuuming hoping Mr. Lazybones would get up, but it
seemed that wasn’t about to happen anytime soon.
Nervously, she ventured another look at the clock in the
hallway. Only one hour to go, before picking up her three-year-old
granddaughter from preschool, (a child she was now raising for
her missing, drug addicted daughter ) another fifteen minutes to
drop her to the babysitter’s, then another half-hour to get back
here to make dinner.
"The hell with his sleep," she said, "People have
jobs to go about." When was the last time she’d gotten a good
night’s sleep anytime in the past year? Not at all! What with the
responsibility of her granddaughter, and the heartache of not
knowing what had become of her own daughter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
11:00AM
"Sex on the Beach? Coming right up," William said,
pouring the ingredients into the blender. Vodka, peach schnapps,
cranberry, orange, and pineapple juices, ice...
"Huh?"
Disoriented, William awoke to the persistent, loud hum of
a machine. For a moment, he thought he was still at Ipso Facto,
Too.
Looking around him, he remembered then where he was -
England, in the home of Mr. Giles, and the noise he now identified
as a vacuum cleaner. Something was twisted around his hand, and he
pulled it loose. It was Elizabeth’s camisole.
He reached over and took the watch fob off of the
nightstand and flipped it open. It was 3:00am in Julian. Instantly,
regret overtook him as he thought about being there with her, within
the warmth of her arms...
No.
He’d come here for a reason, to find out about his
past, and to try to find a way to go on with his future,
their future.
The answer to the questions Mr. Giles posed; so hard to
come by last night as he stared down at the blank journal pages, now
streamed rapidly into his consciousness.
"Sleep peacefully, luv," he whispered, as he got up and
went over to the table.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1:00PM
"Ah, William, there you are," Giles said, looking into
the study.
"Afternoon," William said, closing the book he’d been
reading.
"I hope you don’t mind my being in here."
Giles shook his head. The things that he wouldn’t want
William to stumble onto, at this point, had been secured away in his
locked file cabinet.
"What do you say we have some dinner?" he
asked.
"I’m not sure I’m hungry, but I’ll accompany you. I’m
afraid I slept in much longer than I normally would, so I had a late
breakfast. I’m afraid Mrs. Greeves wasn’t very happy with
me."
Giles smiled, "Don’t pay her any mind, William. She’s a
tough old bird, but she’s a good person. Gives me a hard time quite
regularly, and I pay her salary!"
William waited for Giles in the dining room, while he
washed up.
"Will you be having your dinner then, Mr.
Worthington?"
"I don’t think I’ll..."
"Just bring him a plate," Giles said, walking in, "that
way William can have something if he changes his mind, alright,
Emily?"
"Whatever you say, Mr. Giles," she said, going back into
the kitchen.
Mrs. Greeves returned with a plate and bowl, slightly
banging them down.
Next, she carried in a large tureen, containing the same
stew William recognized as the one he’d eaten yesterday. She also
brought a small roast to the table.
After serving Giles, she turned toward William, arching
her eyebrow in question. He nodded, and she served him as
well.
"Thank you," he told her. She only grunted in
response.
"I’m afraid the roast may still be a bit pink, Mr. Giles.
I couldn’t get it into the oven as early as I wanted, as someone
still had their breakfast waiting for them," she said, pointedly
glancing over at William.
"I’m sure it will be fine. These things happen," Giles
said, easily. He dare not suggest to her, that she might just as
easily have cooked something on the stovetop. He did that recently,
and she had threatened to quit if he was unpleased with the way she
ran her kitchen. Wisely, he refrained.
"Do you need anything else?" Mrs. Greeves
asked.
"No, that will do."
"Very well," she said curtly, departing.
William watched until the door swung closed between the
dining room and kitchen, before speaking. "I don’t think she cares
much for me."
"It’s not that," Giles said, lowering his voice. "This
past year Mrs. Greeves has been charged with the care of her
three-year-old grandchild, because her daughter was stripped of her
parental rights due to her drug use and neglecting the child. Now,
she’s gone missing, as well."
"God!"
"Needless to say, Emily has been a bit less than
pleasant, if you will. Who wouldn’t be?"
William nodded.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
2:30PM
Giles had suggested that William accompany him back to
the Council, and he’d readily accepted. He'd been unimpressed when
they entered a rather small, two-story building on a small street
near the river, but he'd been fooled. As they said, looks can be
deceiving. Underneath, and at least five times as large as the
building appeared from the street, was a vast underground. Five
sublevels to be exact, where the real workings of the Council lie.
The first sublevel was devoted to the multi-linguistic
schooling of the slayers. Giles explained this was both in human,
and demon languages. The second sublevel held was devoted to regular
classes. The third level was for training; everything from sparring
to gymnastics, karate to hand-to-hand was studied and practiced in
these rooms. The fourth sublevel held the dormitories for those
slayers who had no other place to live when they were in London
attending ‘Slayer School.’ There were only a couple of students
around today. Giles explained they only had a half-day’s classes on
Fridays, and those that lived close enough, went home. The others
usually looked for some weekend’s entertainment, while those that
were still here would be on patrol for the evening.
"Is there a lot of...demon activity?"
"Enough to keep us on our toes, but nothing
extraordinary; for now."
Lastly, the fifth sublevel, accessible only by Giles, or
one of the other watchers, was the library. William let out a low
whistle when the elevator door slid open onto the vast room, filled
with at least a couple of thousand volumes.
"You should’ve seen the original Council’s library. It
was three times as large as this," Giles remarked.
"What happened?"
"The First destroyed it back in 2003, before the final
battle. The whole building, and everyone in it was blown
up."
"I’m sorry."
"I believe it was around the same time that The First’s
Bringers kidnapped you from Buffy’s house."
William stopped short outside the elevator, as he tried
to recall what he’d been told about that. The night the truth had
finally come out, Elizabeth had tried to fill him in on everything
he’d been, everything that had happened, but all the bits and pieces
of information he’d been told just bled into one
another.
"Of course, you don’t remember that, do you?" Giles
asked.
William shook his head; "No, I don’t. What did The
First want with me?"
Giles started to answer then thought better of it. "Why
don’t we just continue our tour for now? We can talk about that, and
all your other questions later tonight, once we’re home."
"Okay," William agreed, though the way Mr. Giles had
avoided his eyes filled him with a sense of dread.
"I understand from Wesley that you know Latin and Greek.
He seemed quite impressed."
"I think he gives me more credit than I deserve," William
replied modestly.
"Perhaps. The reason I asked was that I have some texts
that need translating. They seem to be akin to Latin in their
construct; a pre-Latin, if you will. Think you’d like to have a go
at it?"
"I can try," William said hesitantly. "I’m not sure if
I’ll be of any help, but I’ll take a look."
"I’ve been meaning to get to them myself, or give them to
Willow who seems to be able to break the most difficult language
codes, but I haven’t seen her in a couple of months. Of course, I
could send them along through Kennedy when she comes
up..."
"I’ll try."
"Good," Giles said, smiling.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
5:00PM
"I think it’s time we wrap it up for the day," Giles
said, as he walked to where William was working. For the past couple
of hours, while Giles went about the normal Council business,
William had sat at a spare desk, studiously trying to decipher a
code to the text he’d been given. Every once in a while he asked for
some reference on this or that, until finally, after Giles taking
him down to the library twice, he’d given him the key, and let him
go to do his own research.
William had paled a bit, when he’d asked what sort of
language it was supposed to be, and Giles had told him it belonged
to a demon tribe that had it’s roots in ancient Phoenicia, but he’d
recovered quickly, going on with his work.
"Afraid this is as far as I’ve gotten, and not positive
it’s right," he said, handing Giles the manuscript, with his
translation on a notebook next to it. "It was a good thing I’d
discovered that other partially deciphered text downstairs. It gave
me a good key to start with," he said, as he handed over what he had
finished.
Giles looked it over; both impressed, and he had to
admit, a bit put out by how quickly William had worked out how to
break the code. Giles smiled broadly to cover his sudden,
inexplicably, less than grateful feelings.
"I’d say you’ve done quite well, William," Giles said,
patting him on the back.
"Thanks," William said, blushing at the praise.
Giles examined his feelings, as he locked up the
manuscript and translation in his file cabinet. Was it the fact that
he felt like he was being shown up by Spike, whom he’d barely
been able to stomach under the best of circumstance; which of course
in Sunnydale there never were any best circumstances. Or was
it the fact that William was probably as educated as he himself was,
if not more so? Could he be fair in his assessment of William’s
unique problems and needs, if indeed, these feelings made themselves
known, even without provocation?
Stoically, Giles stood up, grabbing his jacket from the
clothes tree in the corner.
"What do you say we get out of here?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
8:00PM
Giles was on his hands and knees putting wood into the
fireplace. He stopped, noticing William standing in the doorway,
holding the journal Giles had strategically placed in his room
before he arrived.
"Come in," he said, rising. Walking to the other side of
the room, he went to a small bar, and pulled out a bottle of scotch,
and poured a good measure into two glasses.
"Water, or straight?"
"Water," he answered, as he entered the
study.
"Have a seat; anywhere is fine," Giles said noting
William’s hesitancy.
Nervously, William nodded, finally taking a seat on one
of the two chairs across from the couch.
Giles walked over to him, handing him a glass. "Cheers,"
he said, taking a swallow. William followed suit, only taking a
small drink, then placed it on the coaster that had been put on the
coffee table in front of him.
"So..."
"So..."
"Have you given any though to where you’d like to start?"
Giles asked.
William nodded, fidgeting as he opened up the journal. "I
suppose, at the beginning."
"As good a place as any," Giles said, mildly. "To start,
why don’t you tell me what you remember."
"I don’t remember anything. I mean, after I was...after I
was turned; not until I found myself in The Field
Museum."
Giles nodded. "Well, why don’t you tell me what you
remember of your last night, to start out with."
"My last night," William repeated. "I went to a party at
a friend’s home in Kensington. Actually, it was my brother’s friend
more than mine; but I was sometimes included because of him.
"You had a brother?" Giles asked, surprised.
William nodded. "Yes, Henry. He was my half-brother,
actually. He was a bit older than I was; eight and a half years
older, to be precise."
"Were you close?"
"No, though I adored him when I was small," William said,
sadly. He took a drink, then continued. "He was almost seven when
his father; my mom’s first husband died. My father was his father’s
second cousin. I think he always hated me, even when I was a
small lad. I think it was because of my father; think he always
resented his, rather our mother remarrying my da. I
remember him always telling me that my father wasn’t nearly
as good or smart as his father had been. They’d had been
living in Hyde Park, but him and my mum moved to my father’s home in
Hampstead; he always felt that was a step down for my mom and
him.
"Hampstead? That’s not exactly a poor area," Giles
said.
"No, it wasn’t. Perfectly middle, upper middle class,
which is what we were, but it still didn’t quite have the
panache I guess as a Hyde Park address did; not quite as
urbane."
"Go on," Giles coaxed.
"Henry was everything that I never was; outgoing,
athletic, popular with not just the ladies, but the gents as well,
whereas I was much more shy by nature, bookish, a closet poet," he
said, with a wry smile. "By the time I was entering university,
Henry had already bought his own home, had a good position in the
banking industry, and a pretty well-to-do group of
friends."
"What about your own friends from your school or
university days?"
"I didn’t have too many. Actually, some of Henry’s
friend’s younger brothers and sisters were those I went to school
with. That’s why I would occasionally get invited along to their
parties. I think my mum had some undo influence with him regarding
bringing me along. Probably to do with his trust fund from his
father," he said ruefully.
"So, Henry moved out, and you lived at home with your
parents still?"
"Just my mum. My da died when I was twelve. He used to
design bridges; he traveled a lot, so he was gone a lot, but I
adored him. He was a quiet man, unassuming; know what I
mean?"
Giles nodded.
"Very smart, though. He read all the classics; guess
that’s why I loved them too; still do, for that matter. He’d come
home from being away for...I don’t know months at a time, weeks?
Hard to recall for sure when you’re a lad, a day can seem like a
week, a week like a month. He’d return home, and my mum and me, we’d
be so happy to have him back home for a while. I don’t think he ever
came home without bringing us all back some little thing from the
area he’d been working in. He’d bring pressed flowers for my mum;
complete with the common and scientific names. I remember she had a
whole scrapbook with them in it from all his travels. For us boys,
he’d bring a rock or shell specimen from the area, and explain to us
its geology; think he liked science as much as the classics.
Sometimes he’d even bring us a book, or small toy."
"Your father sounds like he was a good man."
William nodded. "He was. Know what I used to look forward
to the most? It wasn’t the small presents, though they were nice, it
was that he would read to me from the classics. I loved hearing his
voice. Maybe it was because he was gone so much. I was always amazed
that he could pick up the story, right at the exact page he’d last
been reading to me. When I was older, I asked him how he did that;
admitted to him that I’d looked through the book, trying to find if
there was some sort of mark; a bent page corner, a thread, anything
that gave him a clue. Know what he said?"
Giles shook his head.
"He told me that it was his way to let me know
that he loved me. That he committed to memory the page number, and
that every night he would remind himself of that page number, and be
reminded of me..."
"Good, and wise, to boot."
"Yeah, he was. He was in France overseeing the building
of a bridge, when there was an accident. He died instantly," William
said softly.
"I’m sorry."
"Long time ago..."
"Still."
Lost in his own thoughts, William lifted the glass, his
finger tracing the edge.
Giles cleared his throat; "So, you went to a party in
Kensington that last night that you’re able to recall. Do you
remember anything past the party?"
"I remember leaving the party in rather a hurry," he
said, biting his lower lip. "There was a woman there that I’d
fancied for a long time. Don’t know why I thought she might feel the
same. Anyway, after getting humiliated in front of her by Henry’s
friends, guess I thought I’d go for broke, and tell her how I felt.
I really thought, at least hoped, she would..."
"Seems so silly now; can’t imagine what I saw in her.
Cecily," William said, shaking his head when he contrasted what he’d
imagined real love to be, to that which he’d shared with
Elizabeth. "That was her name. Never said I love you to a
woman before that night; at least not out loud."
"She didn’t reciprocate your feelings, I take it?" Giles
asked gently.
"Reciprocate?" William guffawed. "Shot me down right and
proper she did; said I was beneath her; probably was."
William took a drink, remembering with embarrassment how
humiliated he’d felt, how she’d brought him to tears, how he’d run
out into the night, how he...
Suddenly, he looked up at Giles, his eyes
wide.
"You remember something?"
"I think so," William said, with a small nod. "I left the
party in a hurry, and was sort of stumbling down the street, which
was quite lively, despite the late hour. I wound up in some sort of
carriage house, I believe. I think..." William stood up, and walked
to the other side of the room.
"What is it, William?"
"It’s her. I can see her," he said, his heart pounding in
his chest.
"Who? Cecily?"
William rapidly shook his head, "No,
Drusilla."
Giles got up and walked to where William was standing.
"What do you see?"
"I see myself, sitting on some bales of hay, or crates;
not sure which, in this shed. Then she’s there, at the door, this
dark haired beauty, the likes of which I’d never seen... She asks
why I’m crying," he said, taking a quick look at Giles, glad to not
see any scorn in the older man’s face.
"What do you say?"
"I don’t know, but she’s saying things to me, as if she
could see inside my very soul, things I’d never admitted to any
other living being."
Giles nodded, "Dru was prescient, it was one of
her...gifts, for lack of a better term."
"And then...oh God!" William said, turning away.
"What’s happening, William?"
"She’s...she’s touching me...intimately. Nobody had
ever...oh God. I’m trying to resist her; think I told her my mum was
waiting for me," he said, his voice starting to break.
Giles put his hand on his arm, "It’s alright. Go
on."
"She asks if I want it, and I tell her I do. Then
her...her face. I can see it! Her face changes," he said, swallowing
hard, as he backed away from Giles. William walked over to the
coffee table, and drained the rest of the glass, coughing as he set
it back down.
"I let her, I let her do it to me! I let her bite me! She
asked if I wanted it, and I said yes. I said yes!"
"William!" Giles said, walking over and grabbing his arm.
"You didn’t ‘let’ her. I doubt you knew what you were
agreeing to; you thought it was sex, didn’t you?"
"I don’t know. I guess, but when she
changed...?"
"She tricked you. It’s what she does; what she did,"
Giles amended. "It happened to me."
"What do you mean? You’re not a vampire! You weren’t one,
were you?"
"No, not that," Giles said, then told him about the
incidents leading up to the death of Jenny, and how Dru had
pretended to be her in order to get information out of
him.
"I knew better, I’m a Watcher for Christ’s sake, but I
still believed at that moment that the presence before me, was
indeed Jenny. Told her what she wanted to know, too. So don’t think
for a moment, that you could’ve resisted her. Not only is she
prescient, but she had the gift or trick of being able to hold you
in her thrall if you looked into her eyes. If you had tried to
resist her, don’t doubt for a moment that she would’ve just taken
you by force and left you dead most likely."
"Would’ve been better that way," William said, miserably.
"Wouldn’t have been...him, then. Wouldn’t have been a
monster!"
"You can’t change the past, you can only go on," Giles
said.
William just shook his head, as he thought of the old man
whose wife’s death he was most certainly responsible for; hers and
how many others?
"As much as this goes against my nature to say this; even
Dru was a person at one time. From what I understand, she was
driven mad by Angelus before he turned her. He was the type who
liked to torture his victims first, mentally, and physically. He
killed everyone in her family, one-by-one, and let her be a witness
to it, until she was driven mad with despair. At the time, the gift
of sight was looked upon by the church as being inherently evil, a
sign from the devil. It’s not hard to imagine that Drusilla would’ve
felt that the deaths were a punishment from God for her ‘sight,’
confirming to her that she was evil. Nowadays, much of society would
consider such ‘seeing,’ a gift for the good. Even police departments
will occasionally use someone with that sort of a gift to help solve
a crime. None-the-less, Drusilla sought refuge from what she
considered her curse in the church. Know what happened the day she
was ready to take her vows as a nun?"
"What?" William asked.
"Angelus turned her."
William shuddered.
"I’m not telling you this so that you can feel sorry for
her. I know very well what destruction she could reign down, and you
obviously know that first hand."
William nodded. "I do. She tried to kill me. Again. I
dusted her."
"I know. You don’t know me very well, William. I don’t
know that we ever did actually know each other. If you did
remember me from Sunnydale, however, you’d know that I’m no fan of
vampires, not even the souled variety. Not that there were any
others than you and Angel, rather Spike and Angel, that I
know of," he said, wryly. "I don’t know if I ever believed that
there was anything other than a demon inside a corpse who has
usurped the former human’s memories. I know Buffy would disagree, at
least when it came to you. Still, there have been times I’ve had my
doubts. One doesn’t have to like vampires, to still feel for the
person who used to inhabit that body’s shell."
"Drusilla," William said, softly. "Hate the sin, not the
sinner? Or in this case, the vampire, not the former person they’d
been?"
"Something like that, if you will."
William let out a big sigh.
"I think we’ve had enough talk for one night, don’t you?
We’ll talk again tomorrow if you wish."
William nodded, rising.
"Good night, Giles."
"Good night, William," Giles said, standing up and
watching from the doorway as William made his way up the staircase.
He walked back over to the bar, and poured himself a double shot,
before sitting down at his desk, and taking out his folder on
William the Bloody.
END CHAPTER 177
Feedback
always appreciated
A/N Next, we'll get into William's quest for the truth,
the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. So help me..... and what
that means to him, and his relationship with Buffy, and even more
importantly - what that means for himself.
As always (and sometimes I forget to mention it at an
update) my thanks go out to my tireless beta, Judy, who I can always
depend on! :)
CHAPTER 178 – WHAT YOU’RE HERE TO
DETERMINE
NOVEMBER 26, 2009
WEDNESDAY
9:00AM
Mrs. Greeves looked up, surprised to see William dressed,
and coming down the stairs, much before his usual time.
"Good morning, Mrs. Greeves," he said, with a slight bow
to her.
"Good morning, Mr. Worthington. Mr. Giles just left," she
said. Then adding in a mildly accusatory tone, "After he had his
breakfast; though I did keep yours warm, as I always
do."
"Thank you," William said, quietly sighing to himself.
He'd told Giles to tell Mrs. Greeves not to bother doing that for
him, but obviously she still was, and resenting the
fact.
"Shall I set a place for you, then?" she asked,
stiffly.
Deeply disturbed by last evening’s session with Giles,
compounded by being unable to sleep all night, William had just
wanted to leave as soon as possible; waiting only until Giles had
left first. Now facing Mrs. Greeves, he reluctantly decided his
abrupt departure wasn't worth further aggravating her, "Thank you,
that would be very kind of you," he said with a tight
smile.
She nodded briefly, muttering to herself as she went back
into the kitchen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Thank you for breakfast, Mrs. Greeves. It was very
good," William said, as he wiped his mouth on his napkin, and moved
his chair away from the table.
"You're welcome," she said curtly, starting to clear his
place.
William picked up his coat from the chair he'd laid it on
in the corner, and slipped into it. He then took something from its
pocket. He cleared his throat. "Would you please give this to Mr.
Giles when you see him at dinner?" he asked, handing her a
note.
"You won't be back then?" she asked, looking suspiciously
at both the note, and him.
"Um...no. I'm going to go exploring about town a bit
today. Tell Mr. Giles I'll likely be back by this evening, then? Oh,
and you needn't hold dinner or supper for me, Mrs.
Greeves."
"Very well," she said, turning away.
Relieved, William picked up his backpack, and headed for
the door.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Though his destination was more or less due north,
William walked northeastward, following King George Street, until he
came to Greenwich Park. He preferred the bit of serenity it
afforded him, even if it was a less direct route. Loosely following
King William Avenue, he neared the expanse of palatial buildings
that made up the Old Royal Naval Colleges and Greenwich University,
then cut back west, until he found Greenwich Church Street. Checking
the small map and the notes he’d made, William walked north again
until he came to NatWest Bank.
Often lost in his own musings as 'William,' he was
sometimes still taken aback to see 'Spike,' when suddenly confronted
with his own image. Thus was the case, when he saw himself
reflected in the bank's window. Self-consciously, he took off
his leather coat, folding it over his arm, and straightening out the
gray pullover shirt he was wearing.
"I’m looking for Mr. Nelson," he told the
receptionist.
"Do you have an appointment?"
William nodded, and gave his name.
"Right this way, Mr. Worthington," she said, leading him
across the bank’s shiny, marbled floor until he was shown into an
exterior office.
A few minutes later, a door opened and Mr. Nelson showed
William inside.
He made small talk with William about his coming back to
England for a few minutes, before getting down to
business.
"I spoke to your solicitor, Lawrence McKennitt, in
California yesterday; he arranged a transfer of around $15,000 in
U.S. dollars for you, which amounts to close to £8,000 British
Pounds."
William swallowed trying not to show how uncomfortable he
was with what would have been a small fortune back in his day. Not
to mention, the hugely vaster amount he was actually worth;
or the way he'd come by it.
Mr. Nelson studied William. He studied everyone - it came
with the job, and he prided himself on his acumen. Money exerted not
only economic effects on people, but psychological and emotional, as
well. Using all three, he could usually read people with an
exceptional degree of accuracy. He could tell old money from new,
legal gains from illegal ones, and inherited from earned wealth; all
in the many telltale signs a person presented with, if one only knew
what to look for.
However, William Worthington was more than a bit
intriguing. The young man's solicitor had given the impression that
his money was quite old, inherited. Yet, the young man was almost
reacting to it - or rather trying not to - as if it were illegal
gains, and odder still over such a piddling amount.
Mr. Nelson cleared his throat. "Mr. McKennitt didn’t know
how long you were going to be in England. He thought that you might
need that much to get started with; if you decided to purchase or
lease an auto while you were here, or if you intended to rent a
flat."
When William still didn't respond, he continued.
"However, if your stay is to be of a relatively short duration, then
may I suggest you put a portion of your funds into a short term, but
higher interest account?"
"I’m not sure right now," William finally said, after Mr.
Nelson had talked about the various funds for a while. "I think I
just want to get the basic accounts set up today, if that’s
alright."
"Very well, Mr. Worthington," he said, passing over to
William the necessary paperwork to sign. "I’ll just go and draw up
some temporary cheques for your use, and have you issued an ATM
card, and you’ll be all set."
"Thank you," William said. He leaned back in the leather
armchair to wait, recalling his conversation with Lawrence
yesterday.
To Lawrence’s credit, he hadn’t acted very surprised to
hear from William, or to learn that he was in England. Keeping to
business, he asked him how long he planned to stay, found him a bank
close by, and made all the arrangements. His only personal
concession was to tell William he hoped he’d be returning soon, that
Edna missed him. He’d also volunteered to call and check on
Elizabeth. William gratefully assented, but asked Lawrence to keep
his whereabouts confidential for now.
Mr. Nelson soon returned with the cheques and an ATM
credit/debit card.
"I’m glad you were able to make it in today, rather than
tomorrow, Mr. Worthington," Mr. Nelson said.
William looked at him questioningly.
"The banks aren’t open in The States tomorrow," he
explained. "It’s their Thanksgiving Day."
"Yes, it is," William said softly, at once reminded of
where he was a year ago.
Still unsettled after leaving the bank, William walked
the few blocks to the electronics store Giles had told him about,
where he could get a wireless card to adapt Elizabeth’s laptop, in
order to get online from the house on Winforton.
He was in luck, as the person who had an appointment with
the computer technician had to cancel, William was able to be helped
right away.
"You’ll just be needing to be within a quarter of a
mile’s receiving distance to a good signal in order to get onto the
Internet," the technician said, logging on to show him.
"Is there a list showing where the signals are
best?"
"You staying here in Greenwich?" asked the multiple
pierced and tattooed young man, with an accent, which spoke of East
End.
"Yes, not far from here," William answered.
"Shouldn’t be a problem then mate; they’re all over
Greenwich. Only thing might be if you go further out. I’ve been told
that signals are hard to come by in Black Heath, and along the
southwest corner of the Greenwich Park. Otherwise, you’ll probably
be able to pick up a signal from anywhere around here."
William thanked him, and left, heading over to Greenwich
University. As he did, he couldn’t help but notice the beginnings of
the holiday season in the storefront windows. Although much less of
a to-do here than in The States, there were still telltale signs
about; an Advent Calendar in a stationary shop window, a small
ceramic Father Christmas, and a woman using a machine to blow fake
snow into a storefront display window.
William hurried toward the campus, walking around the
vast grounds for a long while. He asked a couple sitting on a bench
where he could find the library. They had laughed, and asked, "Which
one?" After asking him what his field of interest was, they directed
him to Dreadnought.
As he approached the library from the south side, William
slowed to a halt. Cocking his head to the side, he studied the
light-colored building, pondering why it seemed so familiar to him.
He continued toward the two-storied archway, stopping before the
main doorway to read a plaque detailing its history from the 1760's
through the1990's.
Starting as The Royal Naval Hospital Infirmary, it
then became The Dreadnought Seamen's Hospital for merchant
marines. Its next to last incarnation had been as a National Health
Service specialty hospital. Then, after falling into an advanced
state of disrepair, it was renovated, and converted to a library in
the late 1990's by the University of Greenwich.
William at once realized why it seemed so familiar. When
he was ten, his father had brought him here to visit a great uncle,
who had lived there as one of the permanent patients for a number of
years.
"I'm afraid that I haven't kept up my promise
to your grandmother very well," his father said, as way of
explanation.
"What promise was that, da?" William had
asked.
"I promised her that I'd look in on her
brother, Alfred, my uncle, from time-to-time. It's just I have so
little time; even with you and your mum as it is, I'm afraid..." his
father had replied, with a guilt laden sigh.
William had remembered his eyes growing huge
as he was introduced to the, grizzled old man, without any legs.
Alfred Worthington, however, was still quite sharp, and what's more,
full of stories. William was soon mesmerized by the maritime tales
his great-uncle told of his glory days with The Royal Navy.
"How did you lose your legs?" William had
blurted out after a particularly rousing story of a fight the ship
he'd been stationed on, had with pirate's ship.
"William!" his father had scolded, "mind your
manners!"
"Ah...that's alright," Alfred had said, with
an indulgent grin. He winked at the youngster. "However, young
William, I think I shall save that particular, harrowing story for
your next visit. What say you? Will you come back to visit your old
uncle sometime?"
William had looked at his father, who had
smiled, and nodded.
"Yes sir!" William said, happily.
All the way home, William had excitedly
talked about his uncle and his tales; making his father promise to
take him back to see his Uncle Alfred again.
However, for the next couple of years, his
dad was away from home for longer periods of time than ever before
and then he was dead. He never saw his great-uncle Albert again, nor
learned how he'd lost legs.
The last thing William remembered hearing
about his Uncle Alfred in the late 1860's was that the Royal Naval
Hospital was closing, and that his uncle was being transferred to
another facility in Scotland.
The interior of the building was reminiscent of a ship’s
deck-like structure, with horizontal pierced beams supporting the
main glass roofs. William asked a woman at the enquiry desk where
the literature department was located.
"Take the lift or stairs up to the main library," she
said, pointing him towards the colonnade where they were
located.
William squinted in the bright light coming from all the
windows, as he walked up from the stairs. A sunny, open space
certainly wasn’t the sort of place he typically sought out when he
thought of finding refuge in the familiar surroundings of books.
Luckily, after finding the literature section, he walked through an
archway, leading to the exterior areas. This part of the library -
cooler, and darker, was much more to his liking.
He opened up one of the books he’d picked up, but his
mind wouldn’t let allow him to concentrate on the words. Instead, he
kept thinking back to the last few days.
After the first evening which he’d spoken to Giles about
the night he’d been turned, their conversations had mostly been in
general terms about demons, and of course, vampires. He knew that
Giles had been waiting for him to ask specific questions about
himself, about Spike. Yet, despite the fact he’d traveled
across an ocean, leaving behind the person he most cherished in the
world, he was terrified of finding out what the older man would tell
him.
Finally, he’d mustering up his courage last night, and
broached the subject he’d asked Giles about on his first day at the
Council.
"I do have to preface this discussion by telling you that
when you first came back to Sunnydale with your soul, I was still in
London. Therefore, I can only go by what was told to me."
"Please, just tell me what you do know. That’s all I ask;
all I expect," William said in a steady voice, belying the fact that
Giles’ reluctance was feeding his own nervousness ten-fold.
"Tell me what The First wanted with
me."
Giles regarded William for a moment, finally
nodding.
"Very well. It started after you’d come back from Africa;
after getting your soul back. You were living in the basement of
Sunnydale High School. From all accounts, from Buffy, as well as the
others who saw you at that time, you were..." Giles paused to weigh
his words carefully, but there were only so many words that would
fit, "out of your mind."
"Crazy, you mean?"
"For lack of a better adjective," Giles said,
apologetically. "Mentally, you were quite unstable; unhinged.
Whether from the guilt weighing on your newly acquired soul, or
being in such close proximity to the epicenter of The Hellmouth,
it’s hard to say."
"Why was I living in Sunnydale High’s basement? I thought
I lived in a crypt," William said, shuddering at the unimaginable
and horrifying idea such a thing brought to mind.
Giles stopped, his brows knitted as he tried to recall
something Buffy had told him from that time. Something about an
explosion, perhaps? It was no use. At the time he'd returned to
Sunnydale, his immediate concern was reining in Willow, and the dark
powers she'd harnessed, not what had happened to Spike's crypt. The
next time he'd returned his mind was then preoccupied with keeping
the potential slayers safe from The First.
"I'm not sure," Giles said, shaking his head. "Perhaps
other vampires were squatting in your former...um, residence
by then. If that were the case, I don’t think you were in any
state of mind to fight for what was yours, as you normally would
have."
"But why there?" William asked, again.
"Likely," Giles said in a clipped voice, "you just tried
to find the nearest place to where Buffy was." He’d tried to hide
the contempt, which those memories of Spike served to
bring up, the past being the past, after all. Unfortunately, he
failed, before he could rein it in. William saw it, and looked down,
shamed.
"Or you were drawn there by the concentrated evil; by
The First manipulating you."
"Why would I have been drawn to that? Didn’t my
soul remove the desire to do evil?"
"I don’t know," Giles said, shrugging. "You were still a
vampire at that point, so I’m not sure that human standards
can strictly be applied. Regardless, I’m afraid you and I could talk
from here into eternity on the nature of what a soul does, and
doesn’t do. My belief is that a soul doesn’t so much as
remove the desire to do evil, as much as it lets one weigh
good from evil, and allows us to feel empathy. That’s what I
believe. If it were only a matter of removing the desire to do evil,
or that a soul automatically guaranteed that every human being was a
good person, it would be quite a different world, wouldn’t you say?"
William pondered this while Giles continued. "When Buffy
became aware of your return, and your deteriorated state of mind,
well, being who she is, as you’re well aware, she got you out
of the school’s basement. I believe she enlisted Xander’s help, and
he allowed you to live with him for a while."
So that had been when he’d lived with Xander! He’d almost
forgotten the story of them being roommates.
Giles proceeded to get up at this point, and pour them
both a drink, as he organized how he was going to tell the next part
of the story. He walked back to the sofa where William was sitting,
and handed him the drink.
"Soon after, Buffy had an encounter with a vampire, who,
before she killed him, told her that you’d sired him. A bit of
research by the group confirmed many other people were turning up
missing around that time, as well. All of them, people you killed,
then sired."
William paled. "I still killed...even with
the soul?" he asked, a horror-stricken look on his
face.
Giles nodded, "Yes. Apparently with The First
manipulating you, and without the full benefit of the chip to stop
you..."
"Chip?" William asked, wracking his brain. "You mean,
soul? But I had the soul."
"Um...no. A few years before that, the government’s
special ops unit, called the Initiative, had captured you at one
point..."
William let out a sigh, "Yeah, I remember now; Elizabeth
told me about that. There’s just been so much," William said his
voice barely above a whisper. "I’m afraid I was too shocked to take
it all in when I found out..."
"That’s alright. That’s why we’re talking now. We can
take it as slow as you like, or we can stop for now if you’d
prefer?"
William shook his head. "No, not yet. The government
implanted a chip in my brain so I couldn’t kill humans. Only demons,
right?"
"Yes, that’s correct. However, either the chip
malfunctioned around the same time that The First had
you kill and sire all those people, or it had a diminished
effect."
"But why?" William asked, his voiced pained, "Why
me?"
"I don’t know. Perhaps The First saw you as...,"
Giles hesitated for a moment, "... a weak link. With your soul
weighing heavily on you, and your gratuitous association with The
Slayer - with Buffy. I suppose all those reasons gave
The First grounds to try to manipulate you. The First,
itself, is non-corporeal. It has to have someone, or
something, do its evil bidding for it."
"A weak link," William repeated softly. "It wanted
me to kill Elizabeth, so it could what? Take over the world?"
"Yes, but killing Buffy was only part of its grand plan.
It knew that even if Buffy were killed, another Slayer would rise.
It wanted to destroy the entire slayer line, which
stood between it, and the rest of the world."
"Then I can almost understand, if it had wanted me to
hurt Elizabeth, since she was The Slayer, or even if it had
set me loose on the potential slayers. What I don’t understand is
why have me kill all those other, innocent people?"
Giles shook his head; "I don’t know. Maybe just because
it could, or it had to make sure that the trigger
worked."
"Trigger?"
"Yes, like a post-hypnotic suggestion. I believe your
trigger was a song - Early One Morning, that it used; you
only had to hear it..."
"Early One Morning? That was a song my mother..."
William stopped, looking wide-eyed at Giles.
"Yes, it was. Obviously, there was some sort of negative
association with your mother..."
"NO! There wasn’t!" William yelled. "I loved my mother,
and she loved me!" He scrambled to his feet, and staggered towards
the door.
"What do you remember?" Giles asked, following William
out into the hallway.
"Only that I loved my mum, and that she loved me. But
I...I know what I did. Drusilla; she made sure she told me
when she came to Julian. Made sure to..." William put his hands to
his head, as the memories of her terrorizing him came flooding back,
along with the sickening truths she’d spoken. William looked up at
Giles suddenly; bile rising up in his throat, as it dawned on him
just what he was suggesting.
"I didn’t mean to...Oh, God! The First used what
I did...to my mum, to make me kill again, didn’t
it?"
Giles nodded slowly, "Yes, I’m sorry William, that does
appear to be how The First got you to do it’s bidding. For a
while, you didn’t have any realization of what you were doing when
under its control. To your credit, as soon as you did, you notified
Buffy. While she was trying to figure out what was going on, she
chained you up in order to try to protect any more innocents who you
might try to harm, and that’s when The First kidnapped
you."
"Why?"
"I don’t know. Perhaps because it wasn’t happy that you'd
partly broken its hold on you by yourself. The other reason being
that it wanted your blood to open up the Seal of Danthazar, in order
to release the Turok-han."
"The what?" William asked, more confused than ever.
Giles backtracked, explaining the seal's significance,
what it's opening signified, and the Turok-han.
"The Turok-han was a vampire. Not one sired from a human,
as you were, but a pure vampire: a killing machine. A vampire
other vampires feared. Of course, it came after the potential
slayers, and succeeded in killing one of them. In fact, it very
nearly killed Buffy. Never in all my years as her Watcher, had I
seen her so bloodied, so beaten, so..." he abruptly stopped, seeing
William's ashen face. He quickly added, "However, like all other
so-called, undefeatable monsters Buffy had come up against, she
prevailed, and defeated it."
"Where was I?" he asked, barely able to get the words
out. " Was I still...killing?"
Giles shook his head. "No. You weren't. The First
had you for weeks, torturing you; trying to break you. Buffy
came for you, as soon as she defeated the Ubervamp; she rescued
you."
William slipped down the wall he was leaning upon, as the
full gravity of her words came back to him: "I'll always come for
you". Hugging his legs to himself, he wept, for himself, and for
his brave girl - she who had been called upon to face the
darkness, and the horror. Called upon to be The Slayer by
outside forces, she wasn’t given a choice in her own
destiny.
And yet by choice, she’d faced the darkness in order to
save him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
NOVEMBER 26, 2009
WEDNESDAY
2:30PM
Giles sighed, as he looked at the empty desk across the
room. When he'd gone home for lunch earlier, Mrs. Greeves had handed
him a note from William. It had said that he wouldn't be
accompanying him to the office this afternoon. Instead, it stated he
wanted to spend the day exploring Greenwich on his own. Giles
strongly suspected it had more to do with the events of the past
couple of days.
As much as he'd tried to shield William from what was
sure to be their curiosity, it hadn't taken long before William's
presence was noticed by the slayers-in-training. Giles had been
careful about bringing William back to the office with him in the
afternoons, when most of the slayers were either still in classes,
or out in the field, with their Watchers.
Their discovery of the ex-vampire in their midst, had
come two days ago, when Giles had asked the younger man to take a
box of files out to his car before they left for the day. As William
was heading out the door, he'd run smack into a group of slayers
returning from their outing. Having just recently completed a course
on the most infamous vampires in history, there was a
collective gasp from the girls.
"You! You're him!" said one of the slayers, coming to a
dead stop.
Another slayer, sporting an odd-looking hat atop her
head, stepped forward.
"No way! I was there! This can’t be him; Spike's dead! He
died closing The Hellmouth. What the hell are you? Are you
The First?"
William’s eyes grew large, as the girl who’d just spoken,
drew a stake out of her jacket and advanced on him. He backed up,
holding the box in front of him, in a death grip.
From his office, Giles heard the commotion, and quickly
came running.
"Stop!" he'd yelled from the stairs. "Don't hurt him!"
All eyes turned towards Giles.
"It's The First, Giles, he’s posing as Spike," she
said, looking back towards William.
"If it were The First, then what the bloody hell
good would that stake do?" Giles asked sternly.
Vi looked down at her stake, then at William, then at
Giles.
"Then this really is Spike?" Vi asked Giles, a
look of trepidation on her face.
"Well, yes. I mean, he was Spike. He's human now,
for God's sake," Giles said, coming over, and divesting her of the
stake. "Can't you tell that much, you silly bint?"
She opened her mouth to protest, then shut it again. It
was true; her slayer senses hadn’t been alerted to the presence of a
vampire, as much as she’d reacted to the surprise of seeing
Spike, right there in front of her.
"Spike?" Vi asked, looking at him in wonder. She may have
been frightened of him when she'd been living in Sunnydale, but she
knew he'd died a hero.
"Um...William," he corrected, with a small
nod.
A squeal went up from Vi; "Oh my God! How? When?" she
asked. Suddenly, the whole gaggle of slayers had surrounding him,
some touching him, those from Sunnydale hugging him, all asking him
questions at once.
"Enough!" Giles said, trying to pull them off of an
astounded and embarrassed William.
"Girls, I'm afraid I haven't been very forthcoming about
my guest."
"Duh!" said one of the slayers towards the back. Giles
shot her a look.
"How about if we meet you in the training room in a few
minutes, I just need to talk to William first," he said, with a nod
towards the shell-shocked, former vampire.
"I'm sorry, William. I should've known I couldn't bring
you here of all places, and keep your identity a secret for long,"
Giles said.
"I take it I knew some of them?" William asked, still
stunned at the turn of event.
"Yes, a few of them."
"What do you want to do?"
It was decided that for now, Giles would meet with them
alone; explaining as best he could, as briefly as he could how Spike
had come back, and excluding the most personal information about his
relationship with Buffy.
William would walk the few blocks to the Trafalgar
Tavern to wait for Giles.
The girls had been disappointed when only Giles appeared,
but he impressed upon them, that William had only recently learned
of his past, and that he was still getting adjusted to such a
momentous, shattering discovery.
"Girls, I wanted to tell you that you are not to say
anything to anybody what-so-ever, about seeing Spike
here today. Not even, the other slayers who aren’t here right now.
Is that quite clear?" he asked as the meeting drew to a
close.
"Why?" asked one of the slayers.
Giles turned to regard her, staring at her until she
finally looked away.
"Because," he said slowly, "I’m asking you to both, obey
me on this, and to protect and respect Spike’s...er, William’s
privacy and identity. He deserves as much. Six and a half years ago,
Spike died closing The Hellmouth, in order to save the world;
and therefore saving all of you in the process. I
think that’s more than enough reason, don’t you?" Giles asked
looking around at each of them.
Solemnly, they all nodded their heads.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Then, last night...
Giles had felt helpless, as he looked down to where
William sat, shoulders quivering with the silent tears.
Walking off, he came back a few minutes later, having
filled William’s glass with a fresh drink.
"Guess I should be remiss if I didn’t include my role in
a particular part of this story, as well," he’d said, holding out
the drink to William.
Wiping his eyes on his sleeve, William had looked up,
questioningly, as he accepted the glass.
Giles then told him of his part in the conspiracy with
Robin Wood to kill him, after trying to find the root of the
trigger’s power, by using the Prokaryote stone he’d acquired.
"Elizabeth never told me that," William said, softly.
"Just a bit about Wood, and his mother."
"I’m not surprised."
"I don’t blame you," he said, looking Giles in the eyes,
"I was a vampire. Even with a soul, I’d still recently been killing.
What with The First holding the trigger, that would seem like
a big risk to Elizabeth, and the rest of ‘em. An unacceptable risk
in any book."
Inwardly, Giles winced. Ah, the sweet irony of the
former vampire, finally agreeing with, what had been
his most ardent belief at the time; not lost on him.
"If it’s any consolation to you, I was wrong. Quite
wrong, as things turned out; if you hadn’t been
there..."
William cut him off. "Someone else would’ve been the
‘hero of the piece.’ Wasn’t he the one meant to wear
it? Wasn’t it given to him?" William asked, through gritted
teeth. Though he didn’t say his name, Giles knew whom he meant.
William closed his eyes, trying to imagine him in
his place with Elizabeth, him sharing what they’d had,
him trying to kill them both. Unconsciously, his hands balled
into fists.
"I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Yes, Angel did
bring the amulet to Sunnydale, and offer to be the bearer of it, but
Buffy refused his offer. You were her..." Giles stopped, trying to
find the words he’d never been able to give voice to before, without
choking on them. "You were her hero, her partner. You were the one
she... loved, and wanted by her side, not Angel. If she’d
wanted him there, he would’ve been. Therefore, I can only surmise,
that it was you who were meant to be the ‘hero of the
piece,’ as you put it."
William swallowed, tears starting to sting his eyes
again.
"I think this would be a good place to stop for now,
don’t you?" Giles asked gently.
William nodded, slowly standing up.
Giles took his glass from him, and started toward the
kitchen to put them into the sink. William took his cue, and started
up the stairs on unsteady legs.
"Oh, before I forget, when I refer to Spike as
‘you,’ I do hope you know that I do make a distinction
between what you were, and what you are now," Giles
said.
William stopped, halfway up to the second floor, "And
what is it that I am now, Giles?" he asked, his voice
plaintive.
Giles stared at him for a moment. "I’d venture to say
that you’re a good man."
"I don’t know if that’s true," William countered. "I
don’t feel like one."
"Well, I guess that’s what you’re here to determine.
Goodnight, William," he said, with a small nod.
"Goodnight, Giles."
END CHAPTER 178
A/N I was all proud of myself the other day having
heard two things out of this very story on the news; in a
manner of speaking. The newscaster was talking about the new Airbus
A380--which is just stating to fly in Europe, but which I
already have as flying out of Los Angeles in the
future, and what William and Wesley board to London. I believe
how they worded it was, "The Dreadnought of the skies." Hee! Two
references in one, neither of which I'd known before these past
chapters, esp. the Dreadnought one from this chapter; the
Dreadnought
being a warship before having a library named after it. They're
showing pictures of the inside of the cabin, which I already have on
the website, right before Chapter 175. Too funny!
It can't help but make me wonder, how many other
references go right over my head, that I don't even realize are
references to something else. I know one thing that going to a
university taught me way back then, is that there is so
much I don't know. Still won't ever know. But I try.
I have to say, I've really enjoyed researching and
learning about things I wouldn't have otherwise, in the course of
writing this story - from Victorian money to that the town of Julian
(this snippet of information being the very bedrock I based the
story on) being one of the first goldrush towns in California. From
the extensiveness of the Mesa Verde ruins to learning my way around
a London map, and neighborhoods. Hope you're all enjoying the
ride.
Now, on with the story:
CHAPTER 179 – THANKSGIVING DAY
NOVEMBER 27, 2009
THURSDAY
8:00AM
"Another cuppa tea?" Mrs. Greeves asked.
"Yes, please," Giles replied gratefully.
He was having trouble getting started that morning.
Although there hadn't been much interaction between them after
William returned from his day in Greenwich, he'd been all too
aware of him, having been awoken in the middle of the night by
the incessant pacing going on in above him in the third floor
bedroom. 'Should've taken that into consideration, when
assigning guest bedrooms,’ Giles thought ruefully. Spike
never could stand still for long. He also hadn't realized
just how many squeaky floorboards the old place truly had.
Mrs. Greeves returned from the kitchen, setting down the
cup in front of him. "Will Mr. Worthington be taking his breakfast
early today, you suppose?"
Giles shook his head, "No, I don't imagine he will. Just
keep it in the oven, in case he rises before dinner hour,
please."
Mrs. Greeves huffed silently. "Of course, Mr. Giles," she
said, through her tight, thin lips.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
2:00PM
When William finally awoke, it was late in the afternoon.
Groggily, he made his way down to the loo on the second floor.
There, propped up on the counter, was a note with his name scrawled
across it.
He opened it, and started reading.
William,
I was hoping you’d be awake by the time I
arrived home, so I could extend this invitation to you from the
girls.
Since today is Thanksgiving Day, and many of
the girls are from The States, they wanted a little touch of home.
Therefore, they’ve decided to do their own dinner, (Lord, help us)
and have extended us both an invitation.
It would please them greatly, if you would
attend.
Dinner will be at 3:00pm, at the Council
house. If you don’t feel like walking, call me on the mobile, and
I’ll pick you up.
Giles
P.S. I can reasonably
assure you there will be no attacking Indians.
William read the last line over twice. Must be something
to do with the first Thanksgiving Day, though he didn’t recall ever
reading about the Indians attacking. He shrugged.
In any case, he didn’t see himself being very good
company, nor did he want yet another reminder of where his life was
now, compared to a year ago. Not that he could help it. As he went
back up to his bedroom to dress, his mind kept replaying all the
scenes from last year.
They'd awoken to an early season's snow,
which had delighted both of them, but especially her.
"It's a time-honored ritual; the watching of
the Thanksgiving Day parades," Elizabeth had explained, snuggling up
to him on the couch, after bringing their coffee and muffins into
the living room, "marking the beginning of the holiday
season."
Halfway through the show, she’d left to start
preparations, but made him promise to let her know when the ‘big
fellow’ was about to make his appearance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Santa's coming up," William
said with a grin, as he stuck his head into the kitchen.
William chuckled seeing her delight toward
the icon representing almost every child’s most cherished holiday
icon. Santa made his way down the avenue, pulled by pretend
reindeer, on a pretend sleigh, but that seemed perfectly normal to
all the onlookers.
"Don't you dare make fun," Elizabeth warned,
elbowing him in the ribs.
"Believe in Father Christmas, do
you?"
"Definitely; especially since he brought my
present early this year."
"He did now, did he?" William asked. "And
what would that be?"
Her hand had come up, gently caressing his
cheek. "You're here, aren't you?"
He nodded, swallowing the lump that had
suddenly risen to his throat, "That I am, luv," he'd replied
softly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He smiled at the memory of how
she’d fretted over having the big meal turn out just right. Even
though it was only to be the two of them, and Clem.
"Today I bow to the tradition of men watching
football or some other testosterone driven activity, while the
women-folk, slave over a hot stove," she'd said, trying to shoo him
out of the kitchen.
He’d quirked his eyebrow upward, truly
puzzled by her words; their lack of tradition in this regard having
suited them just fine, thus far.
"Who are you, and what did
you do with my woman?"
"Very funny. I just...your
woman, huh?" she’d asked, a charming little blush coloring
her cheeks, as she tilted her chin up towards him, grinning. Then,
she’d gone all serious again. " I just want to do this today, okay,
William? I'm not going to go all Martha Stewart on you or anything,
so don't worry."
"Martha who?"
"Stewart, she’s...oh never mind."
"I'd rather watch you, he'd said
suggestively, coming up and putting his arms around her; be your
slave,"
She'd relaxed into his arms for a moment,
murmuring with pleasure as he planted kisses down her neck. Then she
pulled away.
"Oh no you don't, I know that trick, and that
can only lead to badness. Well, not badness, goodness really...you
know what I mean. Now out!"
William had laughed, retreating to the other
room. He'd tried to get interested in a football game, but flipping
channels during a commercial, soon became enamored over ‘Miracle on
34th Street’.
"Bloody brilliant that is," he murmured to
himself when it had ended, having thoroughly enjoying the more
traditional, elderly Father Christmas look of Edmund Gwenn.
Eventually, he stumbled onto an actual
English ‘footie’ match, and duly settled into his assigned role.
Delicious aromas emanating from the kitchen kept him frequently
glancing that way, and every so often, he’d sneak up to the doorway
to take a peek.
The soccer team he favored, Manchester
United, had just scored a particularly difficult goal, when he heard
a crash, followed by a string of swear words he’d never heard from
Elizabeth before. He'd hurried to the kitchen to find her staring at
a broken mixing bowl, and half-mashed potatoes now on the
floor.
"What happened? Are you hurt?" he asked,
going over to her, looking her up and down to check for
injuries.
She shook her head. "I just wanted everything
to be perfect this time," she said, wiping at her eyes.
William looked at her, his heart swelling in
his chest, "It is luv, it's all perfect. You're perfect."
"Plus, I broke the mixing bowl," she said,
sniffing through a crooked smile.
William took her in his arms, and softly
kissing her, "Who cares?"
"I care!" she said angrily, taking a step
back.
"I didn't mean I don't care about the day, or
all the hard work you've put in," he added, trying to salvage what
was beginning to feel was something that he wasn't quite
understanding.
" What I mean, is that I care about
you; more than any of this. Is that wrong of me to
feel that way, Elizabeth?"
She looked at him, and softened, "Of course
not. I care about you more than any of this either.
I just wanted..."
"I know," he said, pulling her to
him.
After that, she agreed to let him help her,
and things fell into the normal, comfortable routine they’d
established all these months. William set the table, uncorked the
wine, cleaned up as needed; oh, and he made the
mashed potatoes.
Following dinner, they took the remaining two
bottles of wine Clem had brought into the living room. Eschewing
football watching, the three had talked, listened to music, and
watched old movies instead.
The following day, he and Elizabeth had picked
out their first Christmas tree; the first she ever had in the
house, she’d admitted. He remembered how her eyes had shone with
pleasure when they found the perfect one, and how excited she’d been
to find decorations for it, to share the simple joys with him,
to...
How very perfect and simple everything had all seemed to
be to him then; in love, and feeling loved for the very first
time, he’d believed he was in the midst of embarking on a life he’d
only once dreamed of.
He closed his eyes for a moment, as a wave of pain and
longing coursed through him.
Fervently, he hoped that Elizabeth would be spending
today with Dawn and John, or Clem. He couldn’t stand to think of her
spending it as he planned to, alone.
He went down to the kitchen, and reheated the day’s
dinner. Halfway back to his room, plate in hand, he heard a knock on
the door. Looking out the window at the end of the hall, he saw an
unfamiliar car parked outside. William carefully set down the plate,
and came down the stairs. He could hear voices, and bent over the
railing to have a look. A group of slayers, including Vi, were
peering in through the door’s small windows. He quickly flattened
himself against the stairwell, hoping they hadn’t seen him. He
stayed there a few more minutes, until the knocking finally ceased
and he heard the car pull away.
Letting out a sigh of relief, he retrieved his plate and
headed back to his room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
10:30AM
JULIAN
The hardest thing about going back to school the
following week, was the shift in how her fellow teachers and
assistants treated her. She could hear this unspoken optimism when
anybody spoke to her, and knew it probably had to do with Mrs.
Carpello having talked to William, and making the assumption that
they were back together. When she still remained mum about her
circumstances by the next day, Mrs. Carpello had finally asked how
‘they’ were doing.
Briefly, Buffy explained to her that William had only
come over to talk, when he happened to find her ill. By the next
afternoon, she could feel the shift in all their attitudes. It was
all she could do to hold her head up, and not break down in the face
of their quiet, supportive sympathy.
William had told her that he would get in touch with her
within a week or two, but she couldn’t help but jump every time the
phone rang, and she spent more than a little time logged onto the
Internet hoping for word from him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy was holding the carafe in one hand, the other
holding her mug under the flow of coffee, when the phone rang.
Nearly dropping both, Buffy quickly ran into the bedroom to grab
it.
"Hello," she said rather breathlessly.
"Hey, Buffy, it’s me. I just wanted to wish you Happy
Thanksgiving Day, before John and I left."
"Oh, hey, Dawn," Buffy said brightly, trying to keep the
disappointment out of her voice. "Happy Thanksgiving’s Day to you,
too. What time is your flight to Sacramento?"
"It’s at 1:00, so we’re just walking out the door.
Actually, John wanted to leave about an hour ago, but I convinced
him that would really be ridiculous."
"Well, he does have a point, being that it’s the biggest
travel weekend of the year."
"I have confidence we’ll have plenty of time," Dawn said,
giving John a wink, as he walked by carrying the
suitcases.
"So are John’s parents picking you up at the
airport?"
"No, we’re going to rent a car this time. His dad isn’t
feeling too well, and his mom will be busy with the cooking, so we
figured that would be easiest all around."
"Well, have a great trip."
"We will, it’s just...I wish you would’ve come with; I
hate to think of you being all alone."
"I won’t be alone, I’m going to Clem’s later. He’s doing
all the cooking, so I’ll be set! Afterwards, we’re going to watch
old movies."
"That sounds fun."
"Yeah, I’ll be fine."
"I know," Dawn said, sighing. She knew Buffy well enough
to not buy all her light-hearted talk about having dinner with Clem
and watching old movies. "I’ll call you when we get back on Sunday,
okay? Maybe next weekend, we’ll come up there for a
visit.
"That would be great. Go on now. Go make nice with the
future in-laws."
Dawn laughed.
"Bye, Dawn. Give my love to John."
"I will. Bye, Buffy."
"Bye," Buffy said, clicking off. She was still standing
there holding the phone, lost in her own thoughts, when it rang
again.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Buffy," intoned a familiar voice.
"Hey, Clem. I thought you’d be gone by now."
"I’m leaving in a few minutes. What about
you?"
"Oh, in about an hour or so," Buffy fibbed. "I’ll
probably get to my dad’s around noon."
"Hey, there’s Snoopy!" Clem suddenly exclaimed, with a
child’s glee.
"Snoopy? Huh?"
"In the parade! Don’t tell me you’re not watching the big
Macy’s parade!"
The light bulb in her head went on, "Um...yeah. Sure I
am! I’m just in the bedroom at the moment."
"Good, because everyone has to watch the parades on
Thanksgiving Day morning, to get into the holiday
mood."
"Yeah. That’s right, " Buffy said, sighing
softly.
His sensitive demon ears heard it anyway, and scrunched
up his face, and silently chastised himself. "I’m sorry, Buffy,"
Clem said, clearing his throat. "I sort of forgot..."
"It’s okay," Buffy said, quickly cutting him off. She’d
had all the sympathy she could muster for a while, and if Clem
started in, she’d be reduced to a puddle before she knew it. So
would he, for that matter, and she didn’t want to ruin his day as
well. "Clem, look, I’ve got to go. I have to take a shower before I
leave..."
"Sure, Buffy," he said, hurriedly. "Well, tell everyone I
say, Happy Thanksgiving Day, okay?"
"I’ll do that; take care."
"You, too, Buffy. See you next week?"
"You betcha. Bye, Clem," Buffy said, hanging up.
Looking at her address book in her phone, she pressed #6,
and listened to the recording. "Hello, you have reached the voice
mail of Hank Summers. Leave a message."
"Hi, dad...its Buffy. I know Dawn said you were going to
be out of town, but I just wanted to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving
Day, so...Happy Thanksgiving Day. Bye," she said hanging up.
Then, like she’d done so many other times, she called her
voicemail and listened to an old message from William she’d saved,
just to hear the sound of his voice.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
11:00PM
GREENWICH
When he’d heard Giles return later in the evening, he’d
forced himself to go downstairs to greet him. To his relief, Giles
didn’t ask him either where he had been, or mention that the girls
had come to the house to collect him.
"The girls sent me home with quite a substantial amount
of leftovers," his only statement regarding the day and the missed
meal.
"Well, I think the turkey has finally gotten to me. Thank
goodness it’s only once a year, even less here, or I daresay, we’d
be all be walking around half-asleep," Giles said, putting his hand
over mouth to stifle a yawn. "Goodnight, William. I’ll be around
tomorrow for dinner, if you wish to accompany me back to the office
afterwards," he’d offered, heading toward the stairs without waiting
for an answer.
Back in his room, William sat at the table, laptop open
in front of him, as he tried once again to compose a letter to
Elizabeth. He’d promised both Elizabeth and Dawn he’d stay in
contact.
He'd start with what he hoped, would be the easier of the
two.
27 November 2009
Dear Dawn,
I hope this letter finds both you and John
well. I also hope that you are spending today with your sister (or
she with you, as the case may be). She needs you now more than
she'll ever admit to. I know that much about her.
She told me that in the last five years,
she'd hardly been in contact with any of her friends from Sunnydale,
nor had she even once had you up to the house. I realize that she
was going to college during that time, and you were finishing high
school, and starting college. I also realize that Willow and Giles
were in England, and Xander had moved to the other side of the
country. Still, she cut herself off from everyone, and that couldn't
have been good for her.
I hate to think that if I'd never come back,
that she would still be out of contact with those of you she loves,
and that love her. I can't bear to think that I could have had such
an effect on her then, or that by my being gone now, I might cause
her to start closing herself off again. Believe me, Dawn, that's the
last thing I want!
I can hear your voice giving me a good
dressing down; "Well, there's an easy answer to that, William..."
I won't insult you by using the 'C' word this
time, either. You were right, it's not really any sort of answer. I
owe you more than platitudes. I just don't have any answers right
now.
Until then, for me, please take care of
Elizabeth, and yourself.
Your friend always,
William
With a sigh, he rose, and walked over to the window.
Opening it, he lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply, as he looked out at
the lights twinkling off in the distance, toward the river.
Cigarette finished, he put it out, and went back to the
table.
For the next hour, he wrote to her. When he'd finished,
he reread what he'd written. Sighing, he clicked on 'Select All,'
hesitating a moment before hitting ‘Delete.'
The poet in him; the romantic man who loved deeply and
truly, yearned to send her his heartfelt words. Beautiful words that
were never meant for a computer screen, but for parchment, and
written in the nicest calligraphy he could muster. He couldn't send
them to her though, not in any form. To do so right now, would only
serve to confuse her, he believed.
He started again, this time trying to keep his pain and
longing out of his words.
27 November 2009
Dear Elizabeth,
...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
4:00PM
JULIAN
Trying valiantly to forget that today, memories, rather
than turkey were being served up, Buffy tried to find normal things
to take her mind off other, not-so-normal things.
When cleaning a closet out had made her feel too
claustrophobic, she’d shoved everything back in, and went for a walk
in the woods. Unfortunately, seeing their ‘tree’ only worsened the
pit of depression she was quickly falling into.
Next, she tried to do some training in the barn. That
helped for a while, but now that place too, was filled with ghosts
of what she considered the beginning of the end, of what her and
William had shared.
Despairingly, she returned to the house.
"No!" she said, looking at the computer, having already
checked it twice today - once this morning, then again before she
left for her walk.
Sitting down on the couch, she stared at it for a long
time. Finally, defeated she gave in to the urge.
"I’m just going to write to Willow," she said aloud, as
she logged on.
‘Sure you are,’ the little voice in
her head mocked.
"Welcome," chimed America Online. "You’ve got
mail!"
"Yeah, I bet I do. Lemme guess - increase my penis size,
get prescription drugs from Canada, send money to some dissident
in...."
She stopped, as she saw the return address. It was from
William! She quickly clicked on it, opening it up.
27 November 2009
Dear Elizabeth,
I hope this day finds you sharing it with
those you love.
Know that if I could, I would be there with
you.
I’ve been thinking a lot today about last
year, and the wonderful meal you, ‘slaved’ over. I’m glad you
finally let me help you. I would much rather mash potatoes in the
kitchen with you, than watched football (even soccer) any
day.
Believe me, if I could, I would turn back the
hands of time, so we could always live in those most wonderful of
times we shared. I will always cherish them, as I do you.
Always,
William
P.S. I forgot to mention - my current living
arrangements are quite adequate for what I need at present. I have
an upstairs bedroom complete with bed, table, bookcases, and lots of
windows - no awful basement!
Also, so that you don’t worry - I’m not doing
any demon fighting of any sort.
Buffy read the email, then reread it two more times.
Initially, she'd been overjoyed to receive word, and happy that he'd
mentioned wishing he could be with her. However, the more she read
it, there was a subtext to his words that left her unsettled.
Her first reaction was to fire off an immediate reply,
but she thought better of it. This wasn't a letter that asked for
anything back; this much she knew.
She needed to get some perspective from someone on it.
Picking up the phone, she clicked on 'tools,' and checked her
international clock. Damn, it was probably a pretty dicey time to
call. Still, not totally unheard of, right?
"Hello?"
"Willow? I didn't wake you, did I?"
"Buffy? Hey, how you doin? Is anything wrong? Any word
from William?" came the rapid-fire questions.
"So-so, not really, and yeah, that's why I called, in
answer to your questions," she said, with a laugh. "You know me so
well, don't you?"
"Darn tootin! So, when did you hear from
him?"
"Tonight. He emailed. He sounds okay, so I'm not even
sure why I'm calling you, it's just...it's not so much what he said,
but what he didn't say; how he said what he didn't
say."
"What did he say, or rather not say?"
"Well, he said...um...what if I just read it to
you?"
"Okay, or if you're still logged on, you could forward
it, and I'll have a look."
"That sounds good. That way you'll be better able to hear
his voice when you're reading it, right?"
Willow laughed, "Something like that."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy forwarded the email, and waited a few minutes while
Willow got online, and read it for herself.
"You there, Buffy?"
"I'm here, did you read it?"
"Yeah, I did."
"And?"
"I don't know. He didn't really say very much, did
he?"
"No, he didn't. And what he did say, just
seemed..."
"Stilted?"
"Like he's trying not to say anything by saying a bunch
of...nothing."
"Yep, that's sort of the sense I get, too. That and that
he..."
"He what? Sounds like he's saying good-bye?"
"I didn't say that, Buffy. I don't think he's...I don't
know. I mean he says he'd be with you if he could, but at the end he
talks about wishing he could turn back the clock and that he'll
cherish you always. It just sounds..."
"Like he doesn't expect to come back?" Buffy asked,
softly.
"No, Buffy. I don't think...I think it's more like he's
being very cautious with his words. Very, very
cautious."
Willow heard Buffy sniffle, and her heart ached for her
friend.
"Let me ask you this. When he was there with you, before
he left, did he act like he sounds in the email?"
Buffy thought about it for a moment. "No, Willow, he
didn't. In fact, we were closer than we'd been since he left. We
slept together; I don't mean in that way, I mean I was sick,
but just in the nice, comfy way. When he told me he was planning on
going, William made sure to try to assure me it was for both our
sakes, and said that he..." Buffy hesitated.
"Loved you? Aww!"
Buffy thought about if for a few moments, wracking her
brain to remember the words.
"No. Actually, he didn't say that to me, I mean
with everything else he was saying and doing, I took all his words
to mean that, of course."
"Of course," Willow echoed.
"But he hasn't said it. I don't think he's said
those words to me since he's left, Buffy said, with a small laugh.
"Ironic, isn't it, Willow? Years ago, I'd cringe whenever Spike
would tell me that he loved me; as if coming out of his mouth, those
words were something dirty and disgusting. Now, I would give
anything, to hear him say those three little words
again."
"Oh Buffy, he still loves you. You have to know
that!"
"Does he? I don't know. It sounds like he's trying not
to, or at the very least, keep me at arms length."
"Sounds like...a little. Maybe," Willow said, hedging.
"Not that it means he doesn't love you. Maybe he just doesn't want
you to have any..." Willow stopped, realizing where she was
leading.
"Hope?" Buffy finished for her, her voice flat. He
doesn't want me to have any hope, because he doesn't believe he
deserves to have any. God, Willow..."
"We don’t know that, Buffy! We’re just conjecturing here,
right? No need to be in all worry-girl mode, yet, right? Really, he
didn’t even say that much."
But what he’d not said spoke loud and clear to
her.
"Buffy?"
"Yeah, I’m okay."
"So, how was Thanksgiving Day...?"
Buffy chatted with Willow for another ten minutes. She
found out that Willow’s parents had been there until this morning,
laughed at the folly of their restaurant fiasco in Bristol, and
enjoyed hearing about their trip to Stonehenge, and other general
news. She asked about Giles, but Willow said she hadn’t seen him for
over four months, but that Kennedy was due to go into the Council in
the next couple of weeks, and that maybe she’d go along. Willow had
talked to Xander earlier in the day, and said he and his family were
doing fine; spending the holidays at home, with some of Angela’s
cousins coming by later.
The phone call ended on an upbeat note, Buffy being glad
she called if only to hear Willow’s voice and to hear all that was
happening in her world. No matter what happened with William, she
didn’t want to go back to having no contact with her friends,
again.
Willow suggested waiting a few days to respond to the
email, and Buffy had agreed it might be a good idea; give her more
time to respond. However, after tossing and turning until three in
the morning, she felt she had as good a response as she was likely
to have in another couple of days. Not only that, until she got it
all down, she was doubted she’d find that elusive sleep.
She made herself a cup of tea, and turned on the
computer.
November 28, 2009
Friday
3:00am
Dear William,
I’ve been thinking about last year all day,
too. Not just the day, but all the days.
You said that you were glad I let you help me
in the kitchen last year. How do you think it makes me feel
now to know that, over something infinitely more important
than a meal, you won’t let me help you?
We can’t turn back the hands
of time, William.
I know that now.
We can’t freeze time, or go back to when we
were innocents. When I was first called to be the slayer, all I
wanted was to be able to go back and be the girl I once was; someone
free to do what she wanted, grow up to be whoever she dreamed of
becoming. Now I see if that had happened, although I might have been
living an ordinary life in ignorant bliss, a lot of people would've
died, if I hadn’t been there at that particular time and place to
save them. You can say the same thing, and on an even grander
scale!
Of course, I regret the bad things that
happened; the losses, and pain that being the slayer, unavoidably
brought into my life and to those around me. But I can’t regret the
unexpected good and love I experienced, or the moments of wonder and
transcendence that came along with my calling, too.
More importantly, I wouldn’t have had met the
people who are most important to me in this world - Dawn, Willow,
Xander, Giles, and you - most of all,
you!
I can’t deny who I was then; it’s still a
part of who I am now. Even if I’m not active, or the only one
anymore, I’m still a slayer. For five years I tried to forget that
part of my life by becoming something else. (Let’s forget the fact,
that I was living in the house willed to me by my deceased, vampire
lover. How’s that for being denial-girl?) Then when you miraculously
came back, and didn’t remember who you’d been, I was all too happy
to still deny what I was. Now we’re both living with the
consequences of that decision.
And because of this, I’m trying hard to be
understanding of your need to work out whatever it is that you feel
you can only work out alone, but I think I’m failing.
All I know is that I miss you and love you,
and want you here - with me.
I believe in you, William. Please don't give
up on us.
Write back soon.
Love,
Elizabeth
P.S. I’m glad your living arrangements are
much better than an awful basement, and am
definitely glad that you’re not fighting demons anymore. There are
enough slayers in the world now to do that.
END CHAPTER 179
CHAPTER 180 – NIGHTMARES, REDUX
DECEMBER 12, 2009
FRIDAY
2:00PM
Giles put down the file he'd been
looking at, and picked up the remote. Clicking on the screen, he
flipped through the channels, all linked to the lower levels of the
Council, until he came to the third floor. He zoomed in to watch
William fencing with one of the latest arrivals of slayers, this one
from Amsterdam.
Giles recognized from the beginning
of his stay that William wasn't only in search of answers to
reconcile his past, but to find some meaning in this life. He
also realized that had William’s quest only been about love, he
could’ve easily stayed with Buffy. However, it went much deeper than
that, because of who he was, and more importantly, who
he’d been. As if she were his own daughter, he hurt for Buffy
knowing how she must be suffering. Yet, he also found himself
respecting William for trying to do what was right for both
their sakes. He also knew that eventually, Buffy would find out
his hand in what she would likely perceive as another betrayal by
him, and that there was a good chance that any fragile trust he’d
hoped to build with her again would be gone for good.
After his eyes had been opened to
that, and seeing William desperately in need of guidance and some
way to feel useful, he asked for his assistance in training the
slayers. At first, William was loath to have much contact with the
slayers at all, considering what he now knew of his, rather
Spike’s, history in regards to them. However, Giles was able
to appeal to his vanity.
"You ever fence?" he’d asked William,
already knowing the answer.
"I took it in secondary school, then
again at Oxford. More recently, Elizabeth and I took a class last
summer."
"That’s something we seem to be
woefully lacking; someone who can teach the girls fencing. Don’t
suppose you’d be interested, would you?"
"Me? You want me to teach them
fencing? I don’t know, Giles," William said, shaking his head.
Giles had let out a resigned sigh, "A
pity," he’s said, venturing a look out of the corner of his eye at
William.
"But you fence, don’t you? Why can’t
you...?"
"I do, um...rather I did. I’m afraid
I have a trick knee, which prevents me from overexerting it. I
suppose I could just hire someone outside The Council, or send the
girls to a fencing academy, but it would’ve been nice if they
could’ve be taught by someone who doesn’t just know proper form, but
who also knows how to wield a sword when fighting
demons."
A few days later, William had brought
up the offer to Giles himself, consenting to work with the slayers.
"One thing, Giles," he said,
fidgeting, apparently uncomfortable, "I’ve seen how they look at me,
like I’m some...I don’t know, rock star; some
sort of..."
"Hero?"
William acknowledged this, with a
slight nod of his head.
"I’m not a bloody hero; I don’t want
them..."
"I’ll talk to them, William," Giles
assured, and he had. He’d let the girls know that any undue response
to William as though he were Spike, or as some object of hero
worship would only serve to make William less likely to work with
them.
"But he is a hero, Mr. Giles,"
Vi had said, adamantly, and the other slayers nodded their
agreement.
"That may very well be, but William
doesn’t see it that way. I believe he sees it as Spike may
have done this magnanimously, selfless thing, but that he was also a
murderer for over one hundred years; and of your kind as
well. You’d best not forget that. "
"But he didn’t have a soul
then," another slayer piped up.
And there it was again, that
four-letter word - soul.
"I understand that, but that isn’t
the issue. The issue is how William feels about it now,
right?"
"So how do you want us to treat
him?"
"Just like any other person. I think
that should do for a start, don’t you?"
Now as Giles watched William and the
slayer on the monitor, he couldn’t help feeling just a bit pleased
with himself about how he’d gone about getting him to consent to
work with the slayers. Not only that, but as good as William was
with deciphering demon code - almost as good as Willow had been - it
was a bookish pursuit. Being like-minded himself, he didn’t
disparage such things. On the contrary, he understood them
perfectly. Still, he understood that physically working out his
frustrations, was also a worthwhile thing for William to be doing at
this juncture.
It hadn’t taken long before he’d also
begun to spar with the girls. Giles realized that watching William
was almost like watching Spike. His grace as he circled the girls,
easily dodging their blows, was a thing to behold. Even though
William didn’t have Spike’s supernatural strength anymore, he still
had that uncanny agility that had made him a vampire to be
reckoned with.
Soon, a discernible pattern began to
take shape. After they would talk about the past, Spike’s past,
William would withdraw for a couple of days, staying away from
The Council and the slayers. Then when William had processed
whatever it was, he would turn up at dinner one afternoon,
accompanying Giles back to work as though nothing had been amiss.
He also knew that William had heard
from Buffy by email at least once; probably more, as he’d asked him
about that a while back. That had also seemed to deeply affect him,
and Giles suspected William was strongly fighting the urge to return
to her, but was frightened. Of what, he wasn’t sure; it was just a
feeling he had.
Finally, a few days ago, William had
confessed to him about the nightmares he’d been having, starting
before he’d found out he was a vampire, and increasing in horrifying
vividness and terror after the incident that had brought it all to
the fore.
"As you know, I first left a few
weeks after it happened; when I found out everything. I couldn’t
stand to be around Elizabeth, knowing what I’d been, what
I’d done to countless, innocent people. I was afraid to
accept her solace, afraid to need, and frankly, also upset to find
she’d ever entered into relationships with vampires in the
first place. I judged her, Giles. Me, of all people." he
said, sadly shaking his head.
The irony was not lost on Giles. He,
who, time after time had warned Buffy about entering into
relationships with both Angel, then later Spike. Of course, with
Spike, she’d already become deeply involved before he’d ever known.
With Angel, well, that had been another lifetime ago, so it
seemed.
"I thought I was doing the right
thing, but now I see I was just running scared. I didn’t want to
leave her. God, I didn’t want to leave her," he’d repeated, putting
his head into his hands.
"Later, Elizabeth found me in Los
Angeles. You probably know what a bloody mess I was," William said,
looking up at Giles.
"Um...yes. Buffy called me
afterwards. She was quite concerned."
William stared at the carpet, shamed
far beyond what Giles most likely had been told.
William continued in an almost
inaudible voice, "Then, this last time, when I found Elizabeth so
ill, I really wanted to stay. Despite the circumstances, things
between us were...good, really good. It felt like we were almost
back to normal," he’d said, smiling briefly at what must have been a
good memory for him. The smile had quickly faded. "Then they
started again... the nightmares."
"How long have you been having them?"
Giles asked.
"Ever since I came back, I guess,"
William answered. "At first; in the nightmares, I would be
me, but I would also be watching myself, like one sometimes
does in dreams. Only that me - the one I was watching - would
turn into him, into Spike. I'd see him or Drusilla, or
other vampires, killing; and in almost all of them, Elizabeth would
die. If it were by another's hand, then I would be impotent to stop
it. Otherwise, it was me – him -- who was doing the killing.
I'd wake up terrified. I couldn't understand how I could love
someone so much, yet dream I was this...this thing that would
kill...like that," he said, shuddering.
"Did Buffy know about the
nightmares?"
William nodded, "She knew. She
couldn't help but know. I'd come out of them by her shaking me awake
sometimes; comforting me. She didn't know all the ones I had,
and I never volunteered the specifics. Though once, a few weeks
after we returned to Julian...guess it was right after I’d met Edna
again...I had one of the worst nightmares I’d had up to that point.
That time I told her that I’d dreamed I’d hurt her, and asked her if
Spike had actually ever hurt her before."
"And what was her response?" Giles
asked.
"She told me that Spike wouldn’t hurt
her, and neither would I. That's not quite the truth though, is it?"
he asked, his voice harsh.
Giles took a deep breath, as he
collected his thoughts. No way was he going to tread those murky
waters
"Although I was Buffy’s Watcher for a
number of years, I’ve come to realize that there was a bond, a level
of intimacy between you, and I'm not speaking of only in the
physical sense, that started even before you got your soul. I shan’t
attempt to speak to that which went on between you that I was not
privy to," Giles said, therefore, deftly evading the worst; most of
which he’d only heard second hand.
"If there is something that warrants
such discussion, then those matters are strictly for you and Buffy
to come to terms with," Giles said firmly.
William looked into Giles eyes for a
moment, then slowly nodded. "Fair enough."
"What I will speak to is
this: for all of Spike's braggadocio
about killing the next slayer on his list, that being Buffy; in all
honesty, you...I mean he... never got very far.
That's not to say that you never hurt her, or intended to. In
my viewpoint, even when chipped, you did plenty to put Buffy in
harms way. You allied yourself with those who would try to take her
down when you were no longer able to, and more than once you tried
to drive a wedge between her and her friends. On the other hand, by
either true lack of willingness, or your poor planning, you never
quite seemed able to go through it. On more than one occasion, at
the last minute, you'd fling yourself into the fray, siding with
Buffy against those that might have done her in for good."
"In retrospect, the first time I ever
considered that Spike really might not be in it all for
purely self-serving reasons was when you...er, he, nearly let
himself be killed. Rather than reveal to Glory that Dawn was The
Key; Spike let himself be tortured, even when there was no
apparent gain to be had."
"Spike loved Dawn," William said
simply.
"Yes, I do believe that you did, even
as Spike, but by all intents, you shouldn't
have."
"Because I was a vampire? Or because
I didn't have a soul?"
"Well, that my dear boy," Giles said,
taking off his glasses, and placing them on the desk, "is your
million dollar question, isn’t it?"
William slowly nodded his
head.
"Getting back to your nightmares; it
would appear to me that your subconscious is trying to suppress
memories it still must carry from when you were a vampire. As much
as I'm loath to say it, that the content of those nightmares
includes killing Buffy is quite understandable."
William shot him a surprised
look.
"What I mean," Giles explained, "is
that trying to kill each other is the usual nature of
relations between vampire and slayer."
William rose from the chair, and
nervously paced the parlor, stopping in front of the fireplace.
"See, the thing is, I would tend to agree with you, if they’d stayed
the same, but they changed," William said, absentmindedly watching
the flames dance over the logs.
"How?" Giles
asked.
"Before Drusilla, before I found out
what I’d been, I would be as horrified in my nightmares, as I would
be when I’d awaken from them."
"And now?"
"And now, in them I feel the hate,
the desire to do evil, be evil; overwhelming, unquenchable, and
undeniable. I feel the thrill of the kill. Now in my nightmares I’m
not horrified. Quite the contrary; I revel in the power; in the
bloodlust, in the killing...in killing her," William said, in a
voice filled with anguish.
Giles felt his blood run cold. The
little veins in his temples throbbed silently in anger, fueled more
by his former disgust and loathing of Spike, than in
William's confessional.
"Still," Giles said quickly, his calm
voice reigning in his errant emotions before they became evident;
"you’ve only felt this way in your nightmares, correct? The
urge to do Buffy, or anyone else any harm while awake hasn't changed
has it?"
"No, of course not! Most definitely
not!" William denied vehemently, as he turned around to face Giles.
Hesitantly, and with great sorrow in his voice, he added, "But, I
can’t really be sure what it means now, can I? That’s why I
couldn’t possibly stay. I didn’t know; still don’t
know, if Elizabeth will be safe with me around in the
future."
~~~~~~~~~~~
"Good-night, William. Try not to
worry too much," Giles called, watching as William silently made his
way up the stairs. He’d tried to assure him that nothing pointed to
his nightmares being anything other than just that. However, he
himself was still bothered.
Giles made his way back into the
study, pouring himself a stiff drink before settling down behind his
desk. Withdrawing a key chain from his inner jacket pocket, he
carefully unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk. Lifting off the
false bottom, he pulled out the folder he had started keeping on
William before he arrived. He felt a pang of guilt every time he saw
it as he remembered Buffy’s words to him, before she’d told him
about William.
"This is my life Giles, mine and
William's. It's private, shared only with a few close people. It's
not to be dissected, speculated upon, written about, or otherwise
discussed with anyone, understood? Promise me Giles, no matter
what!"
He tried to comfort himself that he
hadn’t totally gone back on his word to Buffy; the folder he had
started keeping on William, was for his eyes alone, not the
Council’s in general. However, in order for him to think rationally
about this turn of events, it was necessary to have a place to
start. That place was usually with the written word of recorded
events; and that meant him doing the recording.
He flipped back at the scattered
notes he’d taken right after Buffy called him to tell him that
they’d been attacked. At that point, he’d also tried to reconstruct
the things he could recall her telling him the previous spring from
memory.
‘On their cross-country drive back to
California, Buffy said that whilst at the Grand Canyon, William had
what could only be called a most dramatic episode of memory
fusion/confusion. Buffy stated that William reacted as though he
were once again Spike; reliving the last battle which took
place five years previous on Sunnydale’s Hellmouth. The episode left
him temporarily catatonic. Afterwards, when he came to, he didn’t
recall anything of it.
As for nightmares, William seems to
have had them when they first returned to Julian. Though, by last
March, Buffy stated they appeared to have ceased altogether. It was
her contention, at that point, to not tell William about his past at
all, despite my advising her to the contrary.
Note: William’s nightmares have
appeared to be the only evidence that he still carries actual
memories of his years as Spike; otherwise, his only memories
were of his human years from approximately 1852 -1880, and those
since he came back.’
"Came back, came back," Giles mumbled
to himself, as he looked for the copy of the Shanshu Prophecy
he had gotten from Willow. He quickly read through it, stopping when
he got to the end. There it was the mention of the prophecy’s
two-year condition, seemingly simple, yet maddeningly vague.
Giles tapped his fingers along the
edge of his desk as he stared at the words. There just had to be
something he was missing. Unfortunately, he couldn’t very well call
Willow for any clarification she might lend to the situation,
without alerting her, and hence, Buffy, to the fact that he had been
in contact with William, to say the least.
Giles glanced at the mantle’s clock,
then took out his cell phone. He punched in the prefix for the
States, then the rest of the number to the one person who might be
able to help.
END CHAPTER 180
CONTINUE TO CH.
181
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