Sang et Ivoire

By Holly

Chapter Seventeen

"Spi...William?"

"Mmm, pet?"

"You asleep?"

"Would I be talkin' if I was asleep?" An amused grumble and protective squeeze. "Couldn't sleep if I tried. Coffee hasn't got anything against Slayer blood."

"What time is it?"

"Dunno. But I'd wager you've been out for a couple hours."

"That's the disadvantage of dozing off on stone." Buffy chuckled and stretched. Their position surprisingly hadn't altered since falling asleep, nor had William's delicate exploration of her face, hair - pretty much whatever he could reach without stirring her. "Wake up too easily."

"Yeah. Prolly doesn't help much that I'm not much use as a bed warmer." The vampire rumbled in dry amusement. "You'd think I'd be used to this after a century, but I'm not. Close to four years in a comfy bed and I'm bloody well housetrained."

"Then why aren't you in a motel?"

"Ripper tried but I said no. Doesn't work that way. 'Course, I came 'ere thinkin' I could pull off the whole Big Bad thing pretty well. Didn't figure everyone and their cousin would know before the first week was over."

A week. Had it only been a week? It seemed lifetimes had passed since Dawn stormed into the Magic Box and announced the platinum vampire was back in town. Never had she suspected she could go from pretending to hate him to snuggling beside his undead body in a matter of days. Every conversation they had seemed to stretch a thousand years.

She had to fight to remember the person that held her was more or less a stranger in so many regards, but she reached a point where that failed to matter. Whoever he was, she liked him. Loved him? Maybe. The notion wasn't impossible.

Drawing in a breath, Buffy reached her hand to cover his where it lay across her stomach. "Do you regret coming back?"

The man behind her shuffled uncomfortably. "Mmm, now isn't that a loaded question? Don't rightly know, pet. If you'd asked me that last night, I woulda said yes in a heartbeat." He paused to reflect the irony of the statement, but not for long. "I s'pose now, though, that everythin' 'ere's been for the best. No matter how much it hurts."

"Do you miss London?"

"Yeh. Well, not so much as I've missed..." William trailed off, unable to complete the obvious, and she correspondingly gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "But that's mostly 'cause I know I'll see it again."

The words were a well-aimed barb and struck rightly in the heart, however unintentional. She didn't let it throw her off course, though, and countered with another inquiry. "What was your favorite thing to do there?"

"Depended on the mood, luv," he replied. "Though most nights, or those I wasn't spendin' in that blasted library researchin' demony mumbo jumbo, I went down to this café with my notebook. People fascinate me, pet. Even more than before. I'd go there and watch them live out whatever lie they were caught in, waitin' for the one that'd inspire me to open my book and jot down a few verses." He chuckled dryly. "Though more often than not, I'd end up writin' you. I've written you every way from Thursday and still you come to me - a faithful muse - begging for more poetry."

Buffy felt heat rising to her cheeks, and knew he sensed it as well. The thought that she could instigate such fervor shook her beyond words.

"What's with the twenty questions?" William asked when she didn't respond.

"I told you in the graveyard that I wanted to know you," she replied. "If I get annoying, you have permission to thwap me."

There was a warm pause. "Not annoying, luv," he retorted, voice throaty. "What else do you want to know?"

"What was the first poem you wrote?"

A hangdog grin tackled his boyish features. She found the humbled manifestation thoroughly adorable. "It was a sonnet. Or rather, an attempt at a sonnet. Maybe the only thing in the bleedin' book that wasn't about you."

"Which one? Do you have it memorized?"

William nodded against her and settled before realizing the question implied she expected a recitation. "Oh," he said, composing himself. "You've read it, if Red's speakin' the truth. Not my favorite work, but Ripper seemed to think it was all right.

'The day begins when night has set the sun
And vanished have noon's hours empty crowds
Rays of sunshine wither until they're gone
Setting the stars adjust behind the clouds

The taste of blood runs old against the tongue
Heartstrings pull tightly on a blackened soul
My deadened spirit never really won
And pulls me back into a restless lull

Of course the light will once again prevail
To chase the dark before it breaks the dawn
Unto my mind this light will doth impale
Until the dark returns to claim its spawn

Thus trapped forever here I will remain
To find some sanction from this endless pain'

"Like I said, luv. 'S all right for a beginner, but-"

A muffled sob tore his voice in two, rendering him to a startled speechlessness. With an ache of desperation, Buffy twisted in his arms so she was facing him, pulling him down for a chaste, comforting embrace.

"You liked it, then?" William asked, struggling. The hands that held her trembled, caressing her softly, as though she was liable to break at any minute.

"That one always made me cry." There were tears in her eyes. Good tears, however painful to reflect. "I just...knew, or felt...just...every time I read that..."

"Cor, luv," he replied, awkwardly. "'S really not-"

"It speaks to me."

An emotional silence settled over them, encompassing with empty comfort. They were twisted inelegantly - William's arm now trapped under her torso from her spontaneous change of position, but he didn't seem to mind. His free hand had finally ceased the gentle caresses to her face. It was harder when he looked at her. When he could see that she was real.

Buffy tentatively placed a hand on his forehead, reveling when he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. "I'm afraid," she whispered.

"So am I." The deep tenor of his voice sent shivers up her spine. There was no offer of elaboration. It didn't seem to matter anymore.

"I had a dream that the Master killed you."

William's eyes edged open, revealing no sense of alarm. "Won't happen," he said softly. "I'm a tough git."

"Yeah, and he's a Master. The Master killed me, and I'm reasonably tough. Hell, I kick ass. I don't think being tough has anything to do with it."

"Not the same bloke," he retorted. "An' that won't happen, either. Not while I'm bloody standin'." A pause as he reflected his words and the anxious beat that skipped in turn. He offered a grin of compensation. "Guess then that he'll get neither of us. I won't let him get you." His hold on her tightened. "Even if I hafta die to ensure that...but I won't."

The Slayer shook her head. "You can't promise me that, so don't try."

"Just did." William leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "An' I always keep my promises." At her skeptical look, he sighed with a slight smile. "'Sides, you've had Slayer dreams that 'aven't amounted to diddly, 'aven't you?"

"Yeah, but they've...most of them come true in one way or another."

The vampire tugged his arm free from beneath her, propping his head against his fist. "Right, then. What happened?"

Buffy bit her lip. "Ummm...it started in the bathroom." He winced, and she did too, in affect. "I...ummm, well, you know what happened. Only there was someone else there. It was...you. Like two you's. This was before I knew that you had...umm, a soul, so I think that was trying to tell me...that. You attacked yourself, or you attacked Spike and beat him to a pulp. Then it all went away back to Acathla, and my sword fight with Angel. Only it was you, and not Angel. I was about to kill you, but I...couldn't. I kissed you instead. Then the Master killed you, bit me...you said something like 'Make me what I was.' I can't remember everything, but that much is vivid."

A long pause followed before William could tear himself away, breathlessly, eyes darting as he struggled to find his voice. "'S what I said to that demon in Africa. After I passed the last test. Asked him to make me what I was. Well, not quite what I was, but close enough." His evasiveness made her scowl, but when he finally granted her his eyes, the manifest concern wiped aggravation away. "I'm more worried about that last part. But it won't happen. Not while I'm here. An' the only way you'll get rid of me is if Harris decides to box me up an' ship me back to England."

"Don't make jokes," she warned. "I haven't had reason to worry like this since I dreamt that Drusilla killed Angel."

The admission left her lips so thoughtlessly that it sent a gasp of surprise through her system. She covered her mouth with exceeding astonishment, drinking in the similar storm that thundered behind his eyes in impossible recognition. Tears came, however unwanted. The additional accompaniment of forgiveness and love. However impossible this all was. How painful.

"But," William choked a minute later. "He's 'ere. All Peaches to share his bloody logic. So you see...nothin' to worry about."

"That was right before he lost his soul."

"Don't worry about that, either," he said sharply. "I made Ripper bring along insurance. Fought for this bloody soul, an' I aim to keep it."

"What?" Buffy blinked.

"I know you Scoobies 'ave the curse locked away somewhere. You 'ave to. Can't risk Peaches gettin' a happy and goin' all wonky again. Figure you all could curse me, if this chap has a way of stealin' what's mine."

The Slayer drew in a sharp breath. "But it took Willow to do that. Curse you? None of us have that kind of power. I-"

"Red does."

"No. She-"

"She's been workin' mojo ever since she got back from London," William said, and she felt a sudden rush of heated anxiety. "Oh no. Don't worry. She works it in moderation. Worked it to keep me from runnin' for the sodding hills when I saw her the other night. She's not evil, my Red. But she can't stop bein' a witch any more than I can stop bein' a demon."

Buffy shook her head, not in denial as much as surprise. Betrayal? No, she couldn't feel that, either. "Why didn't she tell us?"

"What? An' 'ave you watch her back like she's some bleeding time bomb? Everything's been rosy, hasn't it? When was the last time you really worried about her?"

"It's been a while," the Slayer conceded. "She's Willow."

"Red," he agreed. "Anyway, I didn't know that till I got back, but I figured if she couldn't do it then Ripper could. Or someone else in this bloody town. On the Hellmouth, there has to be more than one witch in the neighborhood."

"You think you would just do it all over again?" Buffy asked softly. "Willingly?"

William sighed and shrugged. "I sure as hell hope so, pet. You've gone all out and told me you loved 'im. An' I know he wouldn't pass up a good toss an' tumble. If he knows what's good for you, he'd go to Ripper an' 'ave someone work the curse."

It was weird to hear him refer to himself in the third person. Similarly, it was disconcerting not to know what she preferred. Colliding feelings for William confused the love she felt for Spike. Could she give the soulless vampire up again if it came down to it? Would she want to? Cradled now in William's embrace, she began to have her doubts, and a rush of guilt soared in repose.

Giles's reassurance calmed her warring conscious. They were so alike, yet so different. Where did Spike end and his counterpart begin?

"Tell me something no one else knows," Buffy whispered, running her forefinger across his lip.

William closed his eyes at the tenderness and turned his face downward, hand moving to capture hers. His thumb unconsciously drew small, feather-light patterns on her palm. Something heavy had landed on him. "About two years ago," he said seriously, "I contacted the Council. It was after one of your phone chatties with Ripper. I had taken a walk earlier, just after sunset. Saw a girl that looked...I thought it was you for a minute. I was so broken then. Can't say much 'as improved, but Ripper used to not be able to even say your name, else I'd get upset. I don't know what but...it hit me extra hard that night. I asked the Council to send me some of that...dunno what it's called. Killer of the dead poison."

A sharp pain ran up Buffy's spine, and she closed her eyes tightly. In a flash, she saw Angel falling to the ground, arrow run through his chest. The scar on her neck throbbed in effect. "Oh God," she gasped. "You-"

"Couldn't take it anymore, luv." William sighed and shook his head. "Council was more than willin' to oblige me. Never had them send me somethin' so fast. I took what they gave me to the roof of the library an' stood there for what felt like forever. Just lookin' at the stars. An' I knew you were out there. Somewhere. Under the same sky, maybe seein' the same constellations I was. Maybe lookin' at the moon. Maybe fightin' a vamp or takin' your sister to some school thing. An' then I knew that killin' myself was the coward's way out. For everything. What I did...what I almost...I deserved to live in a world with you in it. With you livin' happy without me there, mucking it up." Absently, he pressed his lips to her hand, still clutched tightly in his. "If I killed myself, it would've made the whole thing in vain. An' I deserve everythin' I've got. I deserve more than what I've got." He sighed again. "Threw the stuff over the side of the library, an' went to work the next day like nothin' had happened. Ripper never knew." Buffy didn't realize she was crying until he released her hand to wipe the tears away. "I didn't tell you that to make you sad, pet," he said a minute later. "Or to...I just wanted to let you know that nothin'll prevent me from doin' what I came 'ere to do."

"I still don't understand," she sobbed, tears running freely down her cheeks, despite his efforts.

"What?"

"Everything! I don't understand any of it, and I can't. I'm so sorry, William. Spike. Whoever you are. I-"

The tenderness of his touch was retracted with a fiery growl, as though her pain stung his skin. "Don't be sorry," he snapped. "Don't ever be sorry."

"I can't help it! I see what I made you-"

He tugged viciously at her wrist, pulling her off her side so he was looking down at her, eyes flashing with intent and lasting heartache. "I did it. No one made me. I wouldn't take it back for anything. Understand, luv? I'm 'ere now by choice. 'Cause I want to be."

"Can't I be sorry?" she fired back. "I've never said you weren't wrong. You were. But God, so was I. I was so wrong for everything."

There was no way they would ever reach an agreement on the matter. William looked away, hand subconsciously returning to her face, drawing renegade strands of hair from her eyes. "That year wasn't made for people to be right," he concluded. "I blundered up so bloody much...took you along with me to a place you should never 'ave seen. I did wrong by you, Slayer."

Buffy suddenly grasped his wrist and his eyes shot back to her. "You didn't do anything that I didn't let you," she whispered, hushing him with a look before he could object. "And at the end, you reacted to all the abuse I gave you. Stringing you along like...I was so wrong. Can't you see that?"

At that, he grew angry, sitting up with a start, teeth bared menacingly at her. Though they knew the threat was nonexistent, it startled her still. "Don't you dare!" he growled. "Don't you dare say you were to blame for that. I attacked you, Buffy! When I think about what I coulda done-"

"But you didn't," she returned. There was a familiar edge to her voice. "You didn't-"

"I could have. And then where would we be? Certainly not here. Not 'aving this bleedin' conversation. You would've staked me good and proper a thousand times over, an' if you 'aden't, I sure as hell would have. I can't stand to think of...if I 'adn't left that night, I woulda done something drastic." William pushed himself off the ledge and hopped to the floor, beginning another characteristic pace.

The continuous avoidance of this issue effectively wore her down to her last nerve. "Will you stop it? I'm so tired of having the same discussion with you. Get over it, Sp-William." The ferocity behind his eyes blared briefly even as her storm began to calm. "William," she said softly, stepping forward. "I can understand why you don't want to get involved. Trust me, it hurts but I know it's for the best. We can't...but you can't keep blaming yourself for something you didn't do."

"But what if I had?" he growled, though there was no venom behind it. "What-"

"I don't care about what could have happened," Buffy whispered, taking another step forward. "We'll never know, okay? All I know is that you're punishing yourself over and over for something you can't be held credible for. And even so, I forgave Spike. I forgave the demon. I love the goddamn demon. It's gross and disgusting and wrong but no less true. I fell for a monster. A monster that hurt me and killed hundreds, if not thousands of others. He gave you to me because of what he did, not what you did." The final step forward brought them a hair apart. "Not you."

A moment froze between them, leaving the air stinging of accusations and trades, self-remorse and loss. Mingled breaths hung soundlessly, eyes daring the other to look away. But they remained connected: locked in a moment of reluctant complacency. A pivotal stage filled with a cast that forgot the lines. Two battling souls struggling to find the pathway to some sort of personal fulfillment.

It was William who growled first, a sweet ring of his surrender as he grasped her shoulders and brought her fiercely to meet his mouth. The kiss was cautious and daring, brutal and tender. A gateway opened with a flood of relinquished anxieties - and they tasted each other with trepidation. And just as he initiated it, the vampire pulled back, breathing harshly, bringing his hand to stroke her cheek, but not to push her away.

"You've been talkin' with Ripper, haven't you?" he asked with mirth.

Surprise had not vacated her cheeks. The intensity he exhibited revealed more than he would have liked. Shared more than he was ready to disclose, and she knew it. "A bit." Buffy's tongue darting out to lick her lower lip.

Likewise, whatever she saw he picked up without hindrance. Damn him and his bothersome prudence. William smiled sadly, shaking his head, berating himself. "I shouldn't have done that," he murmured, hands retracting to her shoulders, caressing her skin with his thumbs. "Sorry."

"No, I-"

"We better get some rest. The faster morning comes, the better." The vampire sighed emphatically. "This is making me crazy."

"Me, too." With reluctance, she took a step backward.

"If things were different-"

"But they're not. I get that. I told you." Heaving a breath, Buffy paced around him and reclaimed their cooling spots on the sarcophagus. "But for tonight, can we just pretend the world doesn't exist outside this crypt? Just...I need..."

His eyes met her with understanding before he looked down and offered a small nod. And without needing any sense of verification, William moved toward her, taking the proffered space beside her. When he was relaxed, he lifted an arm and invited her head to his shoulder. She felt him jitter beneath her when soft tears meshed his skin through his shirt. It was inevitable - she couldn't hold them back, just as he couldn't refrain from caressing her with empty consolation. They snuggled: a sort of painful comfort. A moment not likely to repeat itself.

For the second time that night, she fell into deep sleep.

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