Before
Clem left, Buffy asked him about the box that Spike had told her
he'd had Clem bring up here.
"Oh my
goodness, girl, I'd forgotten all about that," he said, "come
on."
They
walked over to the DeSoto, which he'd parked on the side of the
house. He took the key from the ignition and opened up the trunk,
"Here, let me take this to the house for you," Clem said, lifting
out the rather large carton.
"Where
do you want it?" he asked.
Buffy
pointed to the floor in front of the fireplace and Clem put it down
there.
"Thanks, Clem," Buffy said.
"No
problem, you need anything, I'm only a cell phone away," he said, as
he walked to the door.
Buffy
closed the door. It was getting dark again, so Buffy put some wood
on in the fireplace and started a fire going. The generator was now
working, so she turned on a lamp in the living
room.
She
pulled the box over toward the couch and looked at
it.
It had
her name on the top, written in Spike' s
handwriting.
She
pulled the tape up and opened the box.
The first thing she saw was a note laying on top of
the light blue blanket that she'd wrapped around his shoulders,
after she'd brought him to her house, after discovering that The
First had been using him to kill. 5/18/03
Dear Buffy,
Just some things that I thought
you might like to have...things I thought you might want protected
and out of Sunnydale. I hope I picked what you would
have.
Now, open the blanket up,
first...
Buffy
laid the letter down and opened up the blanket. There inside, were
her drawings she'd thought had been lost. The ones Spike had drawn
for her when they'd been here in Julian last winter. Tears came to
her eyes as she went through them.
Underneath those were also some of her own personal
pictures, pictures she'd thought had been lost to the rubble that
was now Sunnydale. Pictures of her as a baby, of Joyce, of Dawn, of
her, Willow, & Xander. Her old Sunnydale Yearbook, and a ton of
other pictures that had been in photo albums.
How had
he done that? She knew he'd had to have gotten the pictures from a
variety of places in the house.
Next,
were some newer drawings he had done of her, Dawn, and Joyce. He'd
drawn them at the beach, out on a hike, in the kitchen, things that
they'd actually done, but had never had a picture taken of. Things
she'd told him about, and some that she hadn't. Maybe her mom had?
Or Dawn? There were at least 25 different drawings of them as a
family. Another 10 of her and the Scoobies, including Giles, Anya,
and even Tara.
She'd
have to give some of these to Xander, to Willow, to Dawn. At least
have copies made to give them. They would be grateful to have
pictures of their loved ones, too.
There
were also many pictures of her that he had drawn, of her and him. In
poses and in scenes they'd never been in, but that he'd wished they
would have, that she wished they could have. Sitting side by side in
the cemetery on top a headstone (ok, that one really did happen,
lots!). Scenes from Julian, scenes of him watching her sleep (okay,
that probably happened lots, too!) scenes of them looking at each
other with love and awe, scenes of them being on a bridge with the
Tower of London behind them (she knew that didn't happen), at
Stonehenge, (great! more mystic stuff!) or the Eiffel Tower, the
pyramids, the Great Wall of China, and other locations. Spike had
drawn them together in all the places he'd never had a chance to
take her. All the places, that given a different life, he would have
loved her in, given her the world.
But the
one picture that had been most moving for her, had been the one of
her and him underneath an outdoor canopy. Their friends are in the
foreground, while in the background, you can see the ocean. The sun
is shining, and the canopy is decorated in flowers. Buffy is wearing
a white dress; Spike is wearing a tuxedo. He is lifting her veil
with one hand, as their fingers of their other hands are entwined.
She is wearing the necklace.
Buffy
stared at the picture. He'd drawn a picture of them getting married?
In the sunlight, no less!
"Oh,
Spike! What are you doing to me?" she asks, as her stomach was now
firmly lodged in her throat.
In all
their time together, good and bad, he'd never; they'd never, ever
brought up anything remotely related to marriage. Unless you counted
that time he talked about not still dreaming of a little tomb with a
white picket fence...
"Really
hitting below the belt now, Spike," she whispered staring at her
wedding/not a wedding drawing.
"What
no kiddies, Spike? No fat grandchildren? Torture me much?" she asked
into the night.
She'd
finally gone through all the pictures and went back to his
letter.
Don't be mad at me (the next part
read) for my little flights of fancy. If I could have, I would have
taken you all these places, showed you the world, married you, even.
But since that isn't possible, just having you to myself for a
couple of precious hours these last few days has been all I have
ever wanted, all I ever needed. Just to be near you, just to be able
to love you. Just wish I could have done more for you, pet. So
that's what these pictures are about - just my way of giving you the
world...
"You
did, Spike, you already did!" Buffy said, wiping her
eyes.
The
rest of the box contained some clothes of hers; clothes that she
figured meant something to Spike. They were all clothes that she
remembered having brought here, or if she thought back, something
she wore when they'd been close, somehow. They all had memories
related to him, which is why she knew he'd picked them out.
Then
there had been a few things of his. Three black t-shirts, black pair
of jeans, pair of socks, a black jean jacket, (consistent much,
Spike?) and a couple of books. One was an anthology of poetry, one a
history book of the Roman Empire. She fingered his things lovingly.
Brought one of his t-shirts up to her nose and inhaled, hoping they
weren't recently washed. She smiled, smelling him, his smoke, his
scent.
She
buried her head in his T-shirt and cried for a while against
it.
After a
while, she put it on her lap, and went back to the box.
On the
bottom, there was at least 10 pair of her shoes and boots. She
laughed, no wonder he'd dreamed he was 'drowning in footwear,' that
night.
She
looked back to the letter:
That’s about it, luv. Just hope I
choose what you would have chosen to bring.
Love, William
P.S. Hope you’ll forgive my totally
inadequate poetic expressions. Don’t believe that 100+ years have
made much of an improvement in what I’d been called,
pet.
She
looked questioningly at the last statement, then shrugged, figuring
he was talking about this letter in general.
She was
just about to put the clothes back over the shoes, when something
sticking out of one of her boots, caught her
attention.
It was
paper; taped together, rolled up like a scroll. She took it out,
unrolled it, and started to read.
SLUMBER
I look down and see you
slumber
Hair golden on my
shoulder
Splayed, silken strands touch my
face
and neck
My fingers hesitate to touch your
tresses,
Waken you
unnecessarily
From your needed
rest
Wanted to kill you
Wanted to hurt you
Wanted to help you
Wanted to feel you
Wanted to love you
Wanted to possess
you
Wanted to fuck you
Now all I want is for you to
rest
Give you what you
deserve
SELFISH
"You do," I'd
insisted
"Love me," I'd
said.
"No, I don't," you'd
relied,
"I could never love you," you'd
insisted
And selfishly, I tried to make it
so,
Tried to make you feel
it,
Hurt the girl, hurt
you,
Hurt Buffy
"Should've killed me," I
insisted
"I could never," you'd
replied.
Instead, took me
home,
Gave me your
faith,
And your belief.
"You can be a better man," you'd
said,
"You are," you
insisted.
And your words became my
truth,
Kept me alive in the darkest
dark
Pushed away the evil inside
me
Brought in the light and
hope
I was selfish,
You never belonged
In the dark,
With me.
BLOODY AWFUL
POET
I've been called a bloody awful
poet
In my youth
With good reasons
That I know
I am a bloody awful
poet
But because of you
I am (I think) once
again
A good man
ALL THAT I
HAVE
Can't give you
Paris,
London, or Rome
Don't have much
In this mortal
coil
Give you all that I
have
My loyalty,
My truth,
My faith,
My belief,
My passion,
My love.
It's all I have
Is it enough?
It's all I have
It's all yours.
BUFFY
The word that
defies,
The girl who
proclaims,
To the world, she is just
a girl
To me she is
everything
"Don't want to be The
One,"
She says,
Just want to be a
girl
Just want to be
normal
But normal she
Could never be.
Never ordinary,
Never plain,
Never unimportant,
Never normal
She is everything
Reason for the sun to come
out
Reason for the tide to come
in
Reason men fight and
die
Reason there's
goodness
Reason there's
beauty
Reason there is
me.
Extraordinary
Lovely
Buffy
TOUCHED
"Just hold me," you
said,
And set my heart
free
To be close to you
Watch you sleep
Hold you...
Have you any idea,
How precious your words
are?
How much they meant to
me?
To be trusted by
you?
Let yourself be held by me,
again?
"Just hold me," you
said.
There was nothing 'just' about
it.
It was everything to
me.
As you are,
Always have been,
Always will be.
Everything.
Everything good and
pure.
Love.
Light.
Everything.
NOT ENOUGH
If I could love you
forever
It wouldn't be
enough
If I could hold you
forever
It would never be
enough
If a thousand, thousand,
thousand
Years from now, the world
were
To end
And by some
miracle
You were still in my
arms
It woudn't have been
enough
You see,
I love you
forever,
And still forever,
Is never enough.
SELFISH II
And now,
Spike and William
Want you to know,
You've got to go
on.
On with the show.
On with your life,
Our days were
done.
Done with the
night,
As they’d been
With the sun.
But you are here,
So live for us.
We were selfish
once,
But now, that's
done.
Live for us,
Heck, live twice.
Live for us,
Try it, it'll
be...
Living.
Buffy
smiled as she rolled up the make-shift scroll, "You’ll never be
‘bloody awful,’ to me, Spike," she said, shaking her head in wonder,
"never."
END
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8 - ALL LEGAL-LIKE
Over
the next couple of weeks, Buffy worked at making Spike's house into
something that she could be comfortable living in long term, as well
as preserving the essential "William-ness" to it.
One of
the first things she did was to take her dad's advice and establish
a P.O. Box in La Jolla, it was a drive, but it was worth it. She
didn't want anybody to trace her to Julian.
The
next thing she did was to take some of the money that her dad had
put into an account for her and go to a computer store, getting
herself a laptop, printer, and scanner/fax. She might be living in a
house that was anything but modern, but the only way she would be
able to keep up with her friends and Dawn, would be by being online.
After being there with Spike last February, she knew just how to do
it, too.
Buffy
contacted all her creditors and paid up her bills on her cellular
phone and credit cards and changed her address with them. Her dad
would take care of her car insurance and Dawn's. As for the mortgage
on her old house? What house? What mortgage company? She figured
she'd pretty much got out of that. Yin & Yang - no bill, but no
house.
As long
as she kept busy during the day, she could keep from losing it, as
long as she could stay focused on the task at hand. Cleaning almost
a century of dirt and dust from the house was one thing, chopping
firewood, making sure she had enough propane, fixing up things that
were worn out, and shopping for new things. Even silly stuff like
shelf liner paper, glass cleaner, wood-cleaning stuff,
etc.
Buffy
would catch herself often imagining how Spike would have liked this
or that purchase. She’d really never been shopping with him, only
been out to a restaurant once with him…but in her fantasy, either he
would be with her, arguing for or against something either of them
liked, or he would be home, waiting for her return, to show him what
she’d bought. In any case, he was always there with her, in her
head, either agreeing or arguing with her. He was just like he
always had been - opinionated.
She’d
been at Walmart, picking up cleaning and household supplies, while
looking for something pretty to hang up, "Why not?" she’d asked him
in her head, when her ‘inner Spike’ argued against a framed picture.
"Looks
like something ‘the poof’ would have," she’d imagine him saying and
rolling his eyes, "that’s one thing, second thing - at least go to a
regular art gallery and get somethin’ decent. Read an art book! This
is junk!" he’d say and go on and on about how French Impressionists
were so much better, blah, blah.
"Okay,
you win," she’d say with a sigh. "Sheesh, just shut-up, Spike,
please! Even now, you won’t stop yammering at me," she said, with a
fond, but sad little smile, not caring about the strange looks she
was getting from nearby shoppers, as she’d put the
‘unknown-starving-artist-mass-produced-flowered-painting,’ which
really was kind of garish, back on the shelf.
"Just
trying to teach ya the difference between art and junk, luv," he’d
say.
"Just
shut-up," she’d reply, "always have to have the last
word?"
"What
do you think?" he’d go on to prove her point.
But by
far, the nights were the hardest. Gone was the familiar bantering
back and forth that she could almost keep herself from being lonely
with during the day. Gone was the eye rolls, the smirks, the quips.
Night was when she felt the most alone, most vulnerable, and most
depressed over Spike’s absence in her life, and over his
death.
She
would pace the house for hours, or lay in bed wide awake trying to
remember things he’d said, the time they’d had together in the
house, or back in Sunnydale. She was afraid to sleep, afraid to
dream, because she never knew what to expect. Her dreams could be
comforting, with Spike telling her that everything was alright, that
he was alright, that she would be, too. Or they could be dreams
where he was still alive, when they were here or in Sunnydale,
(these were the hardest to wake up from, knowing they were only
dreams) or they could be nightmares of him burning up and turning to
dust before her eyes. She never had any way of knowing which was to
come to her and so she avoided sleep as much as she
could.
Finally, the day came that she'd dreaded the most.
She'd called Lawrence Jr. to set up a meeting with him at The
Rittenhouse, after first calling Edna to confirm that there was an
envelope there for her. She asked if she could come by to talk to
her privately, before the meeting.
The
meeting with Lawrence was scheduled for Friday July 11, 2003 at
3:00pm. The restaurant was closed between 2:00pm & 4:00pm to get
ready for the dinner crowd.
It was
an overcast, as she drove the Subaru to the restaurant, steeling
herself for what would be surely, an emotionally draining day. She
pulled up to the restaurant at 2:00pm and turned off the car. As she
did she heard it, "na,na,na,na,na,na,na,na I wanna be sedated,"
heart pounding she got out of the car and walked over to the young
man who seemed about 16 years old, who was working on his car in
front of the restaurant.
"Hi,
can I help you?" he asked.
"Um,
I’m here to see Edna," Buffy said.
"Oh,
I’m her great-grandson, Wallace from back east. I’m out here helping
Grandma Edna for the summer," he said, wiping his hands on his
pants, then extending it to her, "nice to meet
you."
She
shook his hand, "nice to meet you, too. I’m Bu, Elizabeth," she
said.
"Oh,
Uncle William’s friend! She told me you were coming," he said
smiling, "how is William? I haven’t seen him since I was about 7
years old, but I always heard about him."
Buffy
didn’t know what to say, "I wanted to ask you something," she said,
changing the subject, "who is that playing on the
radio?"
"Huh?
Oh, the CD, that’s the Ramones, old punk band from the 80’s. Always
sort of liked them," he smiled sheepishly.
She
didn’t say anything, so he asked her, "Do you like
them?"
"They
remind me of someone, especially this song," she said, trying not to
let her voice crack.
"Yeah?
That’s cool. Would you like me to burn you a copy?" he
asked.
"Huh?"
"I’ve
got a CD burner on my laptop, just take a few minutes, I’ll go get a
blank one from inside and make you a copy."
"Really? That’s so nice, let me pay you something,"
Buffy said.
"No, I
don’t want any money, I’m glad to do it," Wallace
said.
"You
sure?" Buffy asked.
"Positive! Come on, I’ll take you inside to see
grandma, while I get my blank CD and laptop," he said, letting Buffy
go before him.
"Thank
you," she said.
"Grandma," Wallace yelled once inside, "Elizabeth is
here to see you!"
"Grandma don’t hear so well these days," he said to
Buffy.
"No,
but I heard that loud and clear!" she said, smiling at Buffy and
giving Wallace a grandmotherly look of disapproval, with a smile
behind it.
"Elizabeth, it’s so nice to see you," Edna said,
coming up and giving her a hug, "I see you’ve met Wally," she
said.
"Yes,
we met outside," Buffy answered.
"I’m
going to burn her a copy of The Ramones, grandma," Wallace said,
"she liked the music," he explained.
She
nodded, smiling.
Wallace
left the front room and Edna and Buffy walked into the dining area,
sitting down at a small table toward the back of the room. It had
already been set up with a pitcher of coffee and some muffins and
rolls.
Buffy
unzipped her sweater and sat down.
"Oh,
Elizabeth," Edna said, smiling, "I see you’re wearing the necklace
that William bought for you on your last visit," she continued, "and
tell me, did he like Shakespeare book like I thought he would? Did
you get him to read some of it aloud for you?"
Buffy
looked at Edna and her façade started to crumple. Tears sprang to
her eyes. Alarmed, Edna, reached across the table and in a
surprisingly strong grip, took her hand in hers.
"Elizabeth," Edna said, softly, "tell me, what is it?
What’s wrong?"
Buffy
could only look at her, but it was written on her
face.
"He’s
gone, isn’t he?" Edna asked.
Buffy
nodded, afraid to trust her voice.
"I had
a feeling for a while now," she said, not seeing Buffy’s surprised
look, "for a little over a month."
Edna
looked at Buffy, "Am I right?"
Buffy
nodded, then cleared her throat, "Yes."
Edna
just looked at Buffy, so she continued, "He…he was in Sunnydale,"
she said, not knowing what other kind of explanation she could
possibly come up with.
"I
heard about that, everyone heard about that. Tragic, tragic. I just
never imagined that’s where you two were from," she said, "your
family get out? Before?"
Buffy
nodded.
They
were silent a few moments, then Buffy said softly, "He saved
me."
Edna
looked up, "That’d be our William, now, wouldn’t it? Saving you,
saving me, um, I mean his grandfather," she corrected,
quickly.
"Never
thought I’d live to see the day…" Edna stopped, wiping her eyes on a
piece of Kleenex she took out of the sleeve of her
sweater.
"He
loved you, you know," Edna said, looking at
Buffy.
Buffy
nodded, tears in her eyes.
"And
you loved him?"
She
nodded again.
"You
didn’t realize it so much last time you were here, but I saw it. I
knew that you did, that you and he belonged together," Edna
said.
At
this, the tears ran down her face, and she made a small choking
sound.
Edna
got up and came over to where Buffy was sitting, putting her arms
around her.
"What
good does that do me now?" she asked Edna, "a little late to show
him!"
"Aw, he
knew it Miss Elizabeth, he knew it. You take it from me. Man like
him always knows his heart and the heart of those around
him."
Buffy
didn’t know why Edna’s words touched her or made sense to her, or
why she felt comforted by them. Perhaps, because she was almost like
his family, in a strange sort of way.
"Do you
think so? You really think he knew?" Buffy asked, looking up at
Edna.
"I
don’t think so, I know it. I know it in my heart, as much as I know
that the necklace he gave you has both your initials on
it."
At
that, Buffy gasped, looking at Edna, who nodded, "That necklace used
to be mine. My husband Lawrence gave it to me when we got engaged.
Had our initials engraved on the back," she
said.
At
seeing Buffy’s confused look, she explained, "His full name was
Wallace Lawrence McKennitt, but he didn’t like Wallace, so he went
by Lawrence, but when we got engaged, thought he ought to use his
proper first name, that’s why the W & E on the
back.
Buffy
looked at her, "We saw it. Sp, William and I. We wondered about it,
but didn’t think it was you and Lawrence."
"It
was," she smiled.
"But,
why did you sell it?" Buffy asked.
"Well,
it was…" she didn’t want to explain the mix-up, so she said, "I had
it long enough and I was so happy that William had picked it out of
all the things in the case. His eye went right to it. I could see by
the way he looked at it how much he thought you would like it. Must
have been something about it that caught his eye. And of course, the
initials on the back, matching those of yours and William’s. I just
thought it was perfect!" she said, smiling.
"I
treasure it," Buffy said, as she looked down at the necklace, "I
always will."
"I know
you will, Elizabeth," Edna said, "I know you
will."
They
had coffee then, Edna making sure that Buffy ate some muffins,
telling her she was looking too thin.
They
spoke mostly of Spike in the more distant past, and of his ‘father’
and ‘grandfather.’ Edna offered to give Buffy any leftover food that
she had everyday, but Buffy wouldn’t accept.
"You
know he’d want you to take care of yourself," Edna
said.
"I
know," Buffy replied, "I’m alright."
Edna
fussed over her some, making her promise to stop by often. Buffy
promised, though she wasn’t sure if she’d actually do it or
not.
At
3:00pm a tall, graying man walked through the door into the
restaurant.
"Mother?" he called.
"Oh,
that must be Lawrence, excuse me," she said to
Buffy.
She
came back a few minutes later and introduced them, "Elizabeth
Summers, this is my son, Lawrence McKennitt,
Jr."
"Nice
to meet you," Lawrence said, "Wally said I’d find you in here," he
said, extending his hand to her.
"Why
don’t you two go into my office," she suggested, "the envelope is in
there."
They
nodded and Edna took them into the kitchen and beyond the room where
she and Spike had eaten dinner. She was glad the door to that room
was closed, too many memories were flooding her, just being
here.
Edna
opened up a door to a small room, apologizing, "Sorry, it’s so small
and such a mess, dear, I tried to clean up earlier," she said
looking at Lawrence and Buffy.
"It’s
alright mother," Lawrence said.
Buffy
smiled at her and Edna left then, "Stay as long as you wish, you
won’t be disturbing anything, even if dinner hour
starts."
The
door closed and they were alone. Lawrence cleared his throat,
"First, let me say how sorry I was to hear about William. He spoke
very kindly of you and your sister when we last spoke. I think he
must have had some premonition, when he had me make out this
will."
He
looked at Buffy questioningly, but she just held his
glance.
He
looked away, continuing, "Can you tell me, if it’s not too painful,
just how he died."
Not too
painful…if he only knew!
"He was
in Sunnydale, when it…collapsed, sink-holed,
earthquaked…"
"I
see," he said, quickly. He was satisfied with the answer, so he went
on.
"Mr.
Worthington, William, left you his house, all the property
surrounding it, and also a sizeable inheritance for you and a
college fund for your sister," he looked at his papers,
"Dawn."
They
talked about what needed to be done, to put it into her name and how
she could access the accounts he’d left her, the trust fund for
Dawn, and other things.
"So, I
think that about covers it," Lawrence said, "do you have any
questions for me now?"
"Just
one," Buffy said, "How do I go about changing my
name?"
END
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9 - I WANNA BE SEDATED
"What?"
Lawrence asked her, "you want to change your
name?"
Buffy
nodded, "I do."
It had
been something she'd been considering for the last couple of weeks.
She didn't know if she could definitely say why she wanted to, or
define all the reasons, but her instinct, above all else, told her
that this was a move she needed to, not just wanted to
make.
Lawrence studied her, "Your name is Buffy Summers,
correct?"
She
nodded.
"But
mother calls you Elizabeth, is that your actual
name?"
"Um,
no, not really, but Buffy is usually short for Elizabeth, so a lot
of people assume that's my 'real' name. That's how Sp...William
introduced me to Edna."
"I
see," Lawrence said, "and you want to change your name to
what?"
"Elizabeth Anne Worthington," Buffy said,
smiling.
He
looked at her, sighed, then said, "You're not the first person to
ever have lost someone and decided to take on their loved one's last
name as a tribute, but I usually advise against
that."
"Why?"
Buffy asked.
"Because, in time, you may wish you hadn't," Lawrence
said, "also, William deeded the house to you, Buffy Summers, if you
were to change your name, then it may be complicated. For
now."
"For
now?"
"Why
don't you let the property be deeded to you, with your name as it is
now, then, say in 6 months or a year, if you wish to still change
it, then we can do that. It will just be easier than trying to go to
the courts with both the transfer of the property and inheritance,
plus the name change. Could get confused, and we don't want any
ambiguity there, alright?"
Buffy
sighed, "Alright, I'll let things stand as they are now, but I want
to change it, as soon as I can. I plan on..."she realized she didn't
know what she actually planned on doing.
"How
long will it take?"
"To
change your name?"
"No,
for the legal stuff with the house and all
that?"
"Probably a month or two. We have to have something
that states how William died, to prove that he did, and since
there's no body, no coroner's report, no nothing from Sunnydale," he
sighed. "I'm sorry, I know this is probably upsetting to you.
Hopefully, the courts will take into account what's happened in
Sunnydale. They may need a written statement from you and anybody
else who can verify that he was still there when
it...collapsed..."
"What
else do you need?" Buffy asked, wishing she could be anywhere other
than here.
"You
wouldn't happen to have any personal papers of his, would you? Any
legal resident papers? Social Security numbers? Birth
certificate?"
Buffy
let out a little laugh. If he only knew... "No, I was hoping that
you did, considering..."
He
shook his head, "No, but I'll come up with something that should
satisfy the courts, if that's alright with you?" he said, looking
pointedly at her. "Don't worry, I'll make sure it's all fine, we'll
meet again before the final court date and I'll show you what I
'found' in the way of papers, okay?"
"Thank
you," Buffy said, rising to leave, "and then afterward, I can change
my name?"
He
nodded, "Shouldn't be a problem, let's just let this go through
first."
She
nodded.
They
walked to the door, she told him, "Say goodbye to Edna for
me."
"I
will," Lawrence promised.
Buffy
walked out, letting out a sigh. It had been hard, but she'd gotten
through it, she'd...
"Elizabeth!" she heard her name called and turned
around to see Wallace sprinting up to her.
"Here,"
he said, handing her a CD, "here's the Ramones CD I made for
you!"
"Oh,
I'd forgotten, thank you so much, Wallace,
Wally?"
"Wally's fine, or Wallace, sounds more grown-up,
don't you think?"
She
nodded, "Thank you Wallace, you have no idea how much this means to
me," she looked at him, then continued, "William. It was William's
favorite group, but I didn't know their name...so thank you," Buffy
said, holding the CD gently in her hands.
"No
problem, I'm glad to do it," Wallace said, embarrassed, "grandmother
told me about him, I’m sorry, I didn’t know…"
"That’s
alright, I knew you didn’t," Buffy said, getting into the car, "bye,
take care of your grandmother."
"I
will," he said, "bye."
She
opened the case and popped the CD into the car's player, "...na na
na na na na na na, I wanna be sedated..."
She
turned up the volume and sang along, tears streaming down her face,
"You don't know how much, Spike, you don't know how
much!"
"...I
wanna be sedated..."
END
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10 - A BUFFY BY ANY OTHER
NAME...
As
promised, a couple of months later, all the legal processing of the
deed and will had been done and the house was now in her
name.
As
Buffy had said she would, she went about changing her name to
Elizabeth Anne Worthington. A check had to be first done on Buffy
Anne Summers to make sure that she wasn't a wanted fugitive or
deadbeat. Once that cleared, it only took a couple of minutes in
front of a disinterested judge to legally change her name.
She
walked out into the sunny, late October afternoon with a new name
and new identity. She took a deep breath of the fall air and felt a
weight lifted from her shoulders. Buffy Summers was now dead. Well,
not dead, she told herself, just officially retired.
And
hopefully, forgotten.
Within
another couple of weeks she'd had all her paperwork - driver's
license, deed, accounts, etc., changed to her new
name.
Now
what was 'Elizabeth Anne Worthington' going to do for the rest of
'her' life?
Buffy
kept in touch every other day or so with Dawn, who was now in her
junior year of high school. She seemed to be doing well at the new
school and with living with Hank. Every 2-3 weeks, Buffy would drive
up to see them and they'd spend the day shopping, talking, visiting,
having dinner with her dad. She even spent the night there a couple
of times.
She
convinced her dad to wire the money to her bank account, rather than
sending a check, so she was able to keep from telling him and Dawn
about her name change. She wanted to tell Dawn, but she never wanted
to put Dawn in the position of having to lie to her friends about
it. And she didn't want to tell any of her friends or former watcher
about it. She'd never told Dawn or anybody what Spike's last name
had been, and she was sure he hadn't. So, she was afraid if Dawn
found out, she might figure it out. For now, it would all have to
just be between her and ...well...her.
Maybe
someday.
She
emailed Willow at least once every week at first, then it had become
once every couple of weeks. She kept asking what Buffy was doing,
what she was going to do, where she was living, and other questions.
And through it all, Buffy felt bad for lying about living at this
place or that, with this imaginary 'old' friend or that one. She was
sure Willow knew she didn't have those sorts of connections outside
Sunnydale, as she'd spent all her time there for the past 7 years.
Soon, Willow stopped asking those sort of questions, figuring that
sooner or later, Buffy would tell her that if she wanted to, so they
mostly talked about Willow and Kennedy.
Willow
and Giles had come up with an ingenious plan to contact the new
slayers. The Internet! First, with a locator spell, Willow had been
able to come up with an approximation of all the slayers that had
been called, within a rough geographic location. Then it was
narrowed down to approximately a 1-block area. Finding the Internet
access of all people living within a one block. Once that was done,
a carefully worded Spam could be sent out to all those within that
one block area. Something along the lines of, "Do you feel different
lately, since May? Did you all of a sudden feel a surge of power, a
rallying of your inner resources? Did you feel the urge to make a
difference in the world all of a sudden, but not know how to go
about it? Want to know more about where your power came from and
what it means?" Then there was an email address given out. There was
an online quiz, to weed out the curious from the real, the wheat
from the chaff. In fact, there were three such questionnaires, only
those who passed through all the steps were given the real email to
Willow or Giles for further assessment.
So far,
the had at least 50 inquiries check out and of those, 43 girls were
interested in furthering their education in England as soon as the
'school' got set up.
Willow
and Giles were soon going to be extremely busy.
Willow
was also enrolled in college, completing her studies. She was double
majoring in computer programming and political
science.
Strangely enough, but not totally unexpectedly, Giles
had only emailed once. She'd emailed him about a month after she'd
settled in, telling him she was alright, and making up the same
stuff she'd told Willow and just to tell him she was alright. He'd
told her he was glad to hear from her and that if she ever needed
anything or wanted to help out in England, she was more than
welcome. That had been it. She was sort of relieved. Their
relationship had been strained over the past year, especially over
Spike, and she'd not quite forgiven him for that, nor did she feel
that what she did anymore was his concern.
Willow
had mentioned to her often about how many girls were going to need
guidance, and that maybe Buffy should consider going back to school
for a degree in Psychology. She wasn't sure that appealed to her or
not. She'd only been half okay at it, if she was honest with
herself. And from what she understood, that would require a masters
degree to actually become a psychologist, not to mention there was a
lot of self-analysis involved. Buffy and self-analysis, not a good
match, that she could see.
Buffy
started looking into going back to school. She hoped that the few
meager credits she had accumulated, from classes she'd actually
completed might still be in a data base somewhere in the state of
California.
Around
the middle of November, she decided to call a local college and set
up an appointment with a counselor.
She
arrived at California State University San Marcos at 9:00am on
November 20, 2003 and found the office of Ms. Linda Sexton without
too much difficulty.
"Come
in Elizabeth," Ms. Sexton told her, ushering her into her
cubicle.
"After
we talked, I was able to locate your old transcripts. Looks like you
only had about 8 credits from U.C.S.D.,
she
looked over at Buffy, "your grade point average wasn't very high,"
she said.
"But
they count, right?" Buffy asked, knowing full well how low they
were.
"Yes,
but if you keep them, even if you get all A's and B's the rest of
your college career, these will still bring your grade point average
down."
"How
much down?" Buffy asked.
"Well,
let's see," she did some calculations.
"Say
you got all A's, but with these factored in, the highest G.P.A. you
could hope to get would be a 3.3."
"Which
is?"
"A 3.2
is just over a B, on average, and that's if you got all A's and high
B's."
Buffy
looked at her; "I'll keep them. I think if I were to show that I was
the kind of person to get all A's and B's from here on out, that
should count for something, shouldn't it? Wouldn't it be
enough?"
Ms.
Sexton looked at the serious young woman sitting in front of her. A
young woman who looked like she'd seen more than her fair share of
life already, "Yes, I would think that it would be looked at very
favorably if that were the case."
Buffy
nodded, "Then that's fine. If afterward, I want to take them over,
then I still can, right?"
Ms.Sexton, nodded, "Yes, that would be
fine."
"There's just one more thing, I've changed my name,"
Buffy said.
"Oh,
did you get married?" Ms. Sexton asked, "I know how that goes, I
just got married last year, but I decided to keep my name, so much
hassle with changing everything, everywhere.
Strange, but nobody had asked her before why she'd
changed her name. They'd just changed it.
She
cleared her throat, "Yes, I was married, but he...he died," Buffy
said.
"Oh,
I'm so sorry, Elizabeth. That's so tragic, you're so young, he must
have been so young!"
If only
she knew.
"How?"
"Sunnydale."
"Oh,"
Ms. Sexton said.
It
always shut them up.
"Now,
let me show you what papers you'll need to fill out and the course
selections."
END
CHAPTER 10
CONT. CH. 11 - 15
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