Chapter 4
*****Flash*****
This memory took place in a bedroom. Buffy knew instantly that it was someone’s sickbed. There was a feel to the atmosphere that said death wasn’t far away. She was a slayer; she knew death. She got the same feeling from hospitals. When her mom was having surgery for the tumor, Buffy’d dreaded the thought that her mother was going to add to that feel of decay in the air.
William was sitting on a chair beside the bed. He was about Buffy’s age, twenty or twenty-one, looking solemn and very pale. He was holding the hand of the girl on the bed; it was the elder of his two sisters. She was sweating, with rivulets of liquid flowing down her gray-tinged skin. With some effort, she opened her eyes. Her free hand reached out to touch William’s face. He smiled at her and murmured, “Hello dearest,” in a tear-roughened voice.
She smiled back at him. “Tears for me, Will? They are somewhat premature. But I do not believe it shall be long before they are timely.”
Will shook his head sadly. “Do not say such morbid things, kitten. Dr. Gull tells us you will be well soon.”
Buffy could tell the doctor had said no such thing. Spike always had been a bad liar. His sister seemed to agree with her. “Brother, you have no talent for deceiving. You never have. And I have traveled far past the point at which I could have been deceived.”
William was weeping openly now. Buffy felt her own eyes becoming moist. Will grasped both the girl’s small hands between his large palms. “I am so sorry that I cannot offer you some comfort, sister.”
“I have comfort enough. I will see our younger sister again soon; she and I shan’t have been apart more than a few hours.”
Will nodded. “You must tell her how much Mum and I miss you both already.”
The girl’s eyes drifted out of focus. “She knows. She would want to make sure that you care for Mother. Mum will be lonely.”
William gave her a sincere pledge. “I shall always see to her needs. And you know I shall never break a promise to a lady.”
The girl tried to laugh, but it sounded more like a cough. “Oh Will, you would have done so without a promise. And you have never broken a vow to anyone.”
Will nodded, head bowed. “I love you so much, Rachel.”
The girl tried to answer, but she didn’t have the time. Buffy saw her body go rigid for a moment, then limp. Her eyes fixed and her breathing ceased. William gasped in surprise. A moment later, he lifted a shaky hand to close her eyes. Carefully, he placed his sister’s hands on her stomach.
William slid to his knees and buried his face against the side of the bed, his body wracked with sobs.
*****Flash*****
Buffy wiped the tears out of her eyes. That was something she’d rather not have seen. It was too intimate. She had a sister of her own. Key or not, she loved Dawn. That’s what this was all about. She needed help against Glory to keep her sister safe. Maybe that’s why Spike was so interested in Dawn; she reminded him of his sisters.
Buffy saw that a new memory had started while she was distracted. It was in the same living room where William’s family had been when they heard about his father’s death. None of the furniture had been changed, but it was beginning to show signs of wear. It looked as though William and his mother could afford to keep things in order but not to replace them.
William was standing beside the fireplace at one end of the room, staring into the flames. Buffy watched his face as the fire light flickered against it. His face had aged little since his sister’s death, but his eyes were tired. Buffy could tell that he was very near the age at which he’d been turned. Maybe it wouldn’t be long before she could finally escape the oppressing truth of Spike’s human history.
There was a man in a suit carrying a small black bag beside him. Buffy hated this memory already. The man was a doctor, who looked sad about the news he was delivering. Will’s only remaining family was his mother. Buffy didn’t want to know about her. She didn’t want to hear a doctor telling William that his mother was dying. But the two men spoke anyway.
William asked quietly, “How long does she have, Dr. Gull?”
The man sighed. “Six months. At most.”
William nodded.
All the fear Buffy felt when the doctor told her the horrible news about her own mother came rushing back. Too much. It was too much. It was bad enough having to go through this once without having to relive it with William. Without having to have this common bond with Spike. Now whenever she looked at him she wouldn’t be able to ignore that he’d been human once. That he’d had the same concerns she’d had. He could never be just a demon to her again.
She was leaving now before she saw anything else. Yes.
No. She couldn’t. She still needed him, damn it, even though he couldn’t seem to hear her when she spoke to him. She had to find some way of reaching him in here. She could see now how he could get lost in his mind. These were the kind of memories that haunted you; the kind that sucked you in until they were all you could think about.
*****Flash*****
Buffy sighed and braced herself for the new memory. She looked around the Victorian ballroom she found herself in. These people had serious money. All the women were wearing flowing silk gowns and the men were in old fashioned tuxedos. They didn’t exactly look like William’s crowd. He was kind of stuffy for these people. Buffy spotted him off to one side. He was about the same age he’d been in the last memory. He was sitting on a chair, paying no attention to the dancing and conversations going on around him.
He was scribbling in a little leather bound book and muttering to himself. “Luminous... oh, no, no, no. Irradiant's better.” William, soon to be Spike, was a writer. Buffy walked closer, curious to get a look at what he was writing.
A snooty waiter walked up to William and asked him, “Care for an hors d'oeuvre, sir?”
William seemed annoyed by the interruption. “Oh, quickly! I'm the very spirit of vexation. What's another word for ‘gleaming’? It's a perfectly perfect word as many words go but the bother is nothing rhymes, you see.”
No. No way! Buffy started giggling. Then she started laughing. By the time the waiter moved away she was bent almost double, trying to catch her breath in the middle of a laugh attack. Spike used to write poetry. Poetry! She stumbled over to have a look at the pages. She’d figured out by now that he wasn’t exactly a macho man as a human. He’d become a fighter after he was turned. But she’d never expected him to have been such a …well, Spike would call William a pansy.
And he hadn’t even written good poetry. Buffy’d tried to write a few poems for English classes, but none of them had been as horrible as the one William was working on. He obviously knew more about the structure of poetry than she did, but he was even worse at coming up with something decent. Judging from all the crossed out words, William was having a terrible time with this one. It was about some girl. Just then William looked up into the crowd and smiled with rapture. “Cecily...” he sighed.
Buffy followed his gaze and winced. She could see where this was headed. She watched with sympathy as William packed up his poetry and stood to go address the aristocratic lady he’d obviously been writing poems about. This wasn’t going to be pretty. This was going to be like Jonathon asking out Miss America and honestly expecting her to accept.
William wove awkwardly through the people separating him from Cecily. He found her near some men and women talking about recent murders. Buffy pricked up her ears to listen to the conversation. A guy with an ugly mustache was speaking. “I mean to point out that it's something of a mystery and the police should keep an open mind.”
Another man saw Spike creeping around the outside of the circle. With a condescending laugh he called to him. “Ah, William! Favor us with your opinion. What do you make of this rash of disappearances sweeping through our town? Animals or thieves?” Buffy suspected that it was vampires. Maybe members of Order Aurelius?
William was obviously irritated to be in the spotlight, since it prevented him from continuing to move toward Cecily. “I prefer not to think of such dark, ugly business at all. That's what the police are for. I prefer placing my energies into creating things of beauty.” He glanced adoringly at Cecily.
While he was distracted a third guy snatched William’s book of poems. William grabbed for it but the taller man pulled it out of his reach. Buffy tried to grab the book, instinctively wanting to prevent their making any more fun of William, but she couldn’t get to it either. She kicked the jerk holding it full force in the shin, but he didn’t react. He laughed and said, “I see. Well, don't withhold, William.”
Mustache-man was laughing too. “Rescue us from a dreary topic.”
William had given up getting his book back and was just trying to keep it from being damaged. “Careful. The inks are still wet. Please, it’s not finished.”
The one with the book looked like he doubted that smeared ink was the biggest thing William had to worry about with his poetry. “Don't be shy. ‘My heart expands/'tis grown a bulge in it/inspired by your beauty, effulgent.’” He gave a wussy laugh. “ ‘Effulgent?’”
They all laughed, not caring the slightest for William. Cecily walked off, looking irritated. William frowned and finally succeeded in grabbing his poems from the man Buffy’d kicked. Wearing a hurt expression he started to trail after Cecily.
Buffy heard the rest of the conversation distantly as she followed William. “And that's actually one of his better compositions.” “Have you heard? They call him William the Bloody because of his bloody awful poetry!” “It suits him. I'd rather have a railroad spike through my head than listen to that awful stuff!”
So that was how William got his vampire name. These must have been the people he killed with a railroad spike. Buffy couldn’t help thinking that they were no loss. Buffy groaned as she watched William timidly approach the seated Cecily. Buffy already didn’t like her. Too stuck up. “Cecily?” William breathed.
She’d been trying to ignore him, but William wasn’t getting the message. Exasperated she deigned to look at him. “Oh. Leave me alone.” Yep, just as much of a cold bitch as Buffy’d figured. Spike had poor taste in women in any century.
William gestured nervously to the people who’d made fun of his poetry. “Oh, they're vulgarians. They're not like you and I.”
Cecily was offended, like being grouped with William was an insult to her dignity. “You and I? I’m going to ask you a very personal question and I demand an honest answer. Do you understand?” William wavered, then nodded. “Your poetry, it’s... they’re... not written about me, are they?”
He fiddled with the binding on his journal. “They're about how I feel.”
Cecily gave a dramatic, frustrated sigh. “Yes, but are they about me?”
Buffy, who knew rejection loomed, was ready to beg him to say they weren’t. “Every syllable.”
“Oh, God!” Cecily moaned. ‘Yeah,’ Buffy thought, ‘like you’re some prize.’
William babbled on. “Oh, I know... it's sudden and... please, if they're no good, they're only words but... the feeling behind them... I love you, Cecily.”
Cecily was appalled. “Please stop!”
The devotion in William’s voice was heartbreaking. “I know I'm a bad poet but I'm a good man and all I ask is that... that you try to see me-”
Cecily spoke slowly, trying to make sure he got the point this time. “I do see you. That's the problem. You're nothing to me, William. You're beneath me.” Cecily stood and walked away, sparing not even a backward glance for William. Buffy frowned. Where had she heard those words before?
William sat devastated for several moments. Then he stood and ran for the door. Buffy followed, chasing after him as he left the building the party was in and ran out into the stone streets of London, leaving a trail of shredded paper. His poetry. He collided with a tall, dark-haired man and two women, barely pausing to mutter, “Watch where you’re going!”
Buffy saw one of the women turn back to watch William run into an alley. It was Drusilla. So this was how it happened. How William died. Buffy watched Drusilla approach him. He was afraid at first, then curious, then just happy that finally someone wanted him. When Dru showed him her game face for the first time, he was startled, but welcomed it.
Buffy sighed. That wasn’t how William deserved to end. Buffy’d begun to feel protective of William, even knowing what he was going to become. He was right when he said he was a rotten poet but a good man. His turning wasn’t his fault; he just desperately wanted to be understood. She felt sad now that William was gone, and that Spike was all that was left of the poor, lovesick poet.
******
Please R&R! Thanks Linda!
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