Sang et Ivoire
By Holly
Chapter Nineteen
A sense of peace settled over warring minds, and before the ending credits rolled, most everyone had fallen asleep. Though she had only been awake for a few hours, the Slayer was the first to topple into deep slumber, setting the bar for the others to follow. Curled into William's embrace, she clutched at him contentedly, blissfully unaware that her companion was still wide-awake, tracing her features with poignant fondness. The taste of her confession tainted the air in pleasant afterglow, but the ambiance fell sour for the knowledge of impending goodbyes. He sighed wantonly, wondering how any of it had ever come this far.
He knew it still changed nothing. Despite what was shared, despite how he felt, there was no way he could remain here. No way he would rob her of life like that. The Slayer was marked with an expiration date, and true, Buffy was different. Special. Assuming all went well with the looming big evil, she would be the oldest slayer in history.
But it changed nothing.
It didn't matter that she had already died twice fighting darkness. The Slayer wasn't supposed to have the support system she did; it kept her alive. And William knew that if he stayed, if he allowed himself to grow that selfish, the day would inevitably arrive when he would be forced to say goodbye. He had something she could never possess, something he would never grant her, despite how the thought of a Buffyless world plagued his already-tortured soul.
He sighed and cast his eyes about the room. Dawn was sprawled across the floor, snoozing soundly with a copy of Streetcar lying ineffectually on her chest. After things had calmed, Willow informed the girl that the ending of the movie differed from the play. They had fallen asleep reviewing study questions.
Xander was the only other one awake, and he was simply staring at the screen - blank as it was. There was no want of sleep. So they sat in silence, not looking at each other, and he was lost in knowledge that plagued the deepest layers of his subconscious. Serenity, temperate as it was, blanketed and cocooned. A grim final peace before hell broke loose.
Neither knew how much time had passed before William stirred. Wordlessly, he lifted Buffy out of his embrace, stopping to caress her cheek. A look of reverent peace overcame him, though briefly. The smile shadowing his lips never surfaced. Instead, he emitted a sigh and ran a hand through blond strands. It occurred to him off-handedly that it wasn't necessary to continue bleaching his hair, but decided there was no harm in it. Regularity filled the voids of tedium. He stood at last and strode passed Xander, taking a seat at a card table; caressing his brow in the loom of an oncoming headache.
Behind him, he heard Harris rouse, heard the grunt of the couch springs as he lifted himself to his feet. Heard him walk to the refrigerator and peer inside. Heard him pop something in the microwave but didn't look up until a familiar scent wafted through the air and was finally presented before him in a glass. William's eyes peered open at the offering, and he glanced at Xander skeptically.
"Angel was here earlier," he explained airily. "Dropped some stuff off. Thought you might be hungry."
Timely, the vampire's stomach produced a long growl, and he could do nothing but shrug his compliance as he took a modest drink. "You 'ave no idea. 'Preciate it, Harris. Thanks."
The other man nodded and cleared his throat, indicating the sleeping girls with a jest of his head. "I think she'd like it better if I made nice." There was a prolonged pause of discomfort before he found the courage to voice an inevitable curiosity. "You're not going to hurt her, are you?" If the inquiry had been made in any other context, William would have growled his discontent and sneered something unpleasant. However, it was genuine and coated with concern. The least he could do was offer his honesty in return.
"I'm not stayin' if tha's what you're askin'. No matter." He took a protracted, exaggerated breath. "I'm not that selfish."
Harris couldn't suppress a snicker. "Sorry," he said shortly. "That just sounds funny coming from you."
William rolled his eyes and took another drink. "Oh, 'ere it comes. Listen, mate. I-"
"I'm not going to tell you how much I hate you," he amended quickly. "I don't think I understood until...what happened earlier. For the life of me, I'll never know why you did what you did. I'll just...never get it. And I'll never approve of anything that happens between you and Buffy. I've been there before, and I've seen what happens. But she...well, you heard her. For whatever reason, she's able to love you." Xander sighed and looked to his clasped hands. "I just don't want to see her get hurt."
The root to all his fears was summarized with such simplicity. William exhaled and closed his eyes tightly. "An' hurtin her's the last bloody thing I aim to do," he replied. "I've told 'er that. I've also told 'er that I'm going back once this is all over. Nothin' that 'appens 'ere's gonna change that. Doesn't matter how much I...I couldn't do that to 'er. There's no place in the world for a slayer who loves somethin' as black as me." He shook his head in continuous awe. "She deserves so much more than this. An' if I were to stay, there would come the day when I'd hafta say goodbye, an' the longer I'm 'ere, the harder it'd be." A dry chuckle rasped his throat. "I'll tell yah, Harris...immortality's a bitch."
"Do you love her?"
William arched his brows. "More than anythin'. If I didn't, it wouldn't be this sodding difficult to say goodbye." Another sigh rolled off his lips. "Won't tell her, though. It'd just make things harder. 'Sides, 's no secret how I feel about her. Think I'd risk my hide for anyone?"
"I dunno," Xander confessed. "If you'd asked me that yesterday...things are different. What I saw earlier...you're not even like Angel. You're-"
The vampire scoffed and finished his drink. "Figures. Y'know, I can't lose this, right? Got it for her. 'S not a curse. 'S mine forever. Long after she's gone and you Scoobies are nothin' more than a footnote in some archival book for the ninnies in England. I'll still be 'ere, mournin' her, lovin' her. Till the day finally comes when the world ends an' no one stops it, or I get a pretty piece of wood in my chest."
The other man sighed and nodded. "I can't imagine that," he conceded. "I never thought you could do something so selfless."
There was a rich chuckle. "Cor, mate. Nothin' selfless about it. I told myself the entire time that I was aimin' to get this blasted chip out. Never really believed it, but 's more plausible than what I did. An' even so...even if I did understand what I was doin'...all I wanted it fo' was to make her love me. Give 'er a reason to love me. To be the kind of man that she could love." William shook his head at himself. "I'm such a prat. An' then she's all forgivin'. I don't get it, Harris. I just don' get it."
A brief silence settled between them.
"What happens if the Master finds a way around it?" Xander asked softly. "Angel and I were talking about this earlier. Truthfully, we're more concerned about him going off the deep end. Angel's annoying when he's soulful, but a goddamned bastard when he's not. You're just annoying. But if you're right about this guy anticipating our every move, why is so hard to believe that he might work some magic to retract the curse? Or take your soul away?"
"Already covered this with Ripper. Red works the curse again-on whoever, an' everythin's rosy."
At that, Harris leapt forward, eyes going wide with alarm. "No!" he objected fiercely. "Willow doesn't work magic. Not anymore. She-"
"Oh, that's what you think." A voice from behind them. Both men turned in time to see the Witch sit up and yawn, though it was obvious she had been awake for a while now. William saw something significant flicker behind her gaze, and immediately understood. She smiled softly, sheepishly, though there was confidence behind it. "Might as well come clean if I'm expected to work a curse on command."
There was no feeling behind Xander's eyes. Nothing but raw comprehension, tainted by sparks of garish duplicity. "You've been working with magic," he said softly.
"Ever since I got back. Nothing big or anything, but yeah." Willow pursed her lips, looked to William and smiled in reassurance. He could tell she was battling a frontage of instinctual guilt. "Actually, I didn't do much of anything for a while. Just a few good luck potions or whatnot. Like when you got your job. I'd done a spell that day so the interview would go well."
"Oh, that's great," he retorted. "What a way to tell me, Wills. 'The world might end in a few days, but hey, here I am to make it go quicker.'"
Something dark coursed through the vampire on reflex. A protective older-brother sensation that raged at the thought of anyone attacking his Red - verbally or otherwise. William growled tightly and, before he could stop himself, a hand had curled around Xander's throat, then immediately retracted when the chip activated. "Bloody hell," he grumbled, caressing his forehead. The look he delivered when his eyes leveled with the boy's could have frozen hell. "Don't be a prat, you sodding ninny. Red's harmless. I know what she did before, and I don't give a bleedin' fuck. I won't let 'er fall while I'm 'ere."
A long beat of cold reproach settled between them before Xander's eyes softened. Something undoubtedly nasty was coiled on his waiting tongue, but he swallowed the comment and aimed for a barb of neutrality. "I won't, either," he replied softly; hand around his neck, even though there was no pain. "Sorry, Willow. You just...took me by surprise."
"Hey. Understandable." She sighed meaningfully. "But seriously, Xan, I've been doing this for a while now. And this is the exact reason I decided to lay off. You guys wouldn't...or maybe you would've, understood. At the time, it didn't seem like it. Everyone was on pins and needles. And the more time that passed, the less important my mentioning it became. I just didn't want you guys going wiggy with the worrying. That's all. It's all a part of me. The magic and stuff." Pursing her lips, Willow tapped the vampire and earned his eyes in return. "You want me to be ready to work the curse, then. I'll need to go back and decode the original text...not sure if the same curse applies to everyone or if I'd need to change it so it works on you."
William nodded and leaned back. "Yeh. Figured there 'ad to be some catch to it. Listen, Red, I dunno if this aims to amount to anythin'. Chances are you won't have to touch any of that ritual mojo. I just wanna be prepared."
"It's a good idea," Xander agreed, nodding fervently. "If this guy's as bad as you've indicated, there's no reason to think he might not try something like that."
With a sigh, Willow stood, stretching with a sleepy nod. "I'll get working on it," she said before consequentially collapsing in a tired heap on rickety springs. "First thing in the morning."
"What are you going to tell Buffy?" Harris was staring at the vampire intently, dark eyes heavy but not angry. "With everything you said a few minutes ago...you saw her earlier. It's going to tear her up when you leave."
"I know." Something heavy crashed in William's head, and the room started to rotate. "An' it bloody kills me. But she knows. I've told 'er time and time again...I'm goin' back to London. 'S my home."
The Witch frowned, forcing herself to her feet. "This is your home," she insisted softly. "It'll always be your home. And if you told Giles that when-"
"No, Red. Nothin'll change my mind." William exhaled deeply and pushed himself away from the table. "I love her too bloody much to ruin her by stayin' here. I love her so much it hurts. Like my lungs are fightin' to breathe and my heart's achin' to pound, but can't. An' I want...you have no idea how much I want to stay, or to take 'er with me. But I gotta be smart." In defeat, he moved behind Willow and sunk to the space she had occupied, opposite the Slayer. For a few brief seconds, he watched her with pain-streaked eyes, admiring the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. "An' it's not just me," he whispered. "You mates deserve your fair chance at a normal life, too. Bleedin' unlikely, but a bloke's gotta do what a bloke's gotta do. It just gets one more vamp out of your way. The best way I can love her is to say goodbye. The sooner she and the lot of you accepts that, the better off everyone'll be."
Resignedly, Willow sighed and nodded, turning to face him with grave intensity. "I know," she whispered. "But...I'm going to miss you. And it'll tear her up. You know everyone leaves her. Angel did, Riley did...and you're going to, again. I don't know how many times a person can heal."
"Sure you do," he replied softly, taking her hand and squeezing reassuringly. "It takes stones, but everyone heals with time. An' she knows..." With a poignant smile, William's eyes flickered over Buffy's slumbering form again, a riveting sigh coursing through his body. "She knows as I do...the only way to really love someone is to let 'em go."
*~*~*
It was close to three in the morning when William left Xander's basement, intent on locating Giles and Angel, who he knew were still researching at the library. When challenged on his knowledge of the Watcher's study patterns, the vampire instantly provided countless accounts of life in London. There was the forty-eight hour investigation that ensued when they were first alerted to the vampires that excreted black blood. There was the night he found a relic of some demon he had heard of years back and insisted thorough research was essential. It accumulated to wasted hours. Apparently, a toddler had dropped the previously day in the library. A family emblem that had somehow worked its way into the child's overalls. The stories went on and on-most amusing, others unbelievable, but all true in their respects.
"The old git 'as his ways," William had drawled. "An' he's well-known in these parts as the Slayer's former watcher, by the demon community, at least. I'm sure he had no trouble talkin' the ole librarian into lettin' him stay fo' a few more hours. An' I know Ripper well. With a willin' accomplice, he can lose himself in those dusty old books. He's prolly jus' getting his second wind 'bout now."
Just as he suspected, the luminosity stemming from the main building provided a helpful pathway, reaching places the streetlights couldn't touch. The vampire grinned tightly, allowing himself to feel a rush of the slightest sympathy for Angel. Peaches might've been his study-buddy once, he reflected, but there's no way in hell he knew jus' how far the old man can push. He doubted that during their previous transactions the Watcher had eaten an entire evening away with his explorations. If so, it was likely a venue he traveled alone.
The previous night had seen the most hours William had slept in over a decade. It was so easy to lose himself like that, lying beside her. Watching her. Loving her. Needless to say, he was plenty rested for the next few days. Nearly twenty hours of sleep was liable to juice him through the rest of the week.
And he was certainly not doing anyone any good just lounging about; discussing the outcome of their perilous situation while maintaining the mindset that everything would pass without conflict. No one liked to voice the very really possibility that this might be the one thing they couldn't defeat, but understandably after so many years, encountering such an entity seemed rather unlikely. The Scoobies had only had a taste of death - some more than others. None of them - save Buffy - had died and been brought back.
His Red had had to say goodbye to her lover and suffered drastic consequences in return, but she had not died.
William helped himself into the library and found Giles hunched over a stack of books, nowhere near sleep, talking excitedly with Angel. Neither noticed his presence until he cleared his throat loudly.
"Oh. Hello, Will," the Watcher greeted distractedly, handing Angel the book he had just flipped through. "I thought you were watching videos at Xander's?"
The vampire's lips curled in amusement. How typical. "Yeah. Right. Movies. We got through watchin' The Matrix about five hours ago. Shoulda been there, Ripper. Jus' the kinda encouragement we need. 'There is no spoon' an' all that." Pointedly, he arched a finger at Angel, and recited with droll humor, "There is no Peaches. Peaches is a matter of mind and will that you can control on every whim."
His grandsire was less than amused, notably exhausted but willing to continue. "You're hilarious. Did you say the movie ended five hours ago? Is it really that late?"
"Yeah. You'll be wantin' to head off to bed, soon. Else you'd rather spend the day in this place. I can see that, really. No skylights." William smiled fondly and approached the book-covered table, offhandedly investigating the titles. "Had a wicked time findin' a system to hop around my place of employment without getting dusted. This place seems to be a bit more vamp-friendly. So...what're we lookin' at?"
"We believe we might have pinpointed the identity of the Master," Giles announced, still hunched over. "This book you were researching the other night mentions a vampire called Geryon. 'One born of the oldest order to slay the slayer of his kind.' He was supposed to rise sometime last year, according to these calculations, but the previous Master's death might have come a year too late."
"Mmm, name sounds a bit familiar," the bleached vampire conceded, approaching Angel to peer at the pages over his shoulder. "Vaguely. Did it mention anythin' that'd be useful? I figure the day's gettin' closer. Aim to be ready."
The Watcher looked up fully for the first time. "You didn't encounter any trouble on the way over here, did you?"
"Nada. All's quiet on the front."
"Where's Buffy?" Angel this time. Inquisitive and concerned - implicitly assured that his childe knew her whereabouts at any given time. It was a bizarre feeling; to be trusted without any form of tangible faith.
William sighed. "Sleepin', like any normal person at this hour. Well, any normal human. Sleepin' harder than I thought she could with as much as we slept last night. Bonkered herself out, she did." At his words, Giles and the other vampire looked to him sharply - halfway between accusing and amused. He blinked, understood, and rolled his eyes. "From the fight, you prats."
The Watcher cleared his throat and smiled uncomfortably. "Umm, yes. Of course. Will, I could use your opinion on this passage." Eager to escape the incredulous gaze, he tore the book away from Angel and thrust it into William's grasp. "There. There's a long paragraph about this Geryon fellow, and it's sealed with this."
The vampire's gaze dropped to the indicated text. In old script following a passage of fluent Samarian were the words:
Slayer; Even night ends two at circle
- CorouThat made absolutely no bloody sense.
"Well," he mused. "Strange.""Any ideas?"
William arched a flawless brow. "From that? Shyeah. I'm not that good, old man. Could mean any number of things." He squinted and peered closer, face softening as the inner wheels began to turn. "But...'f you look closely, the language before this mumbo jumbo s'all fluent an' what all. This doesn't make any sort of grammatical sense."
Angel perked humorously. "S'all wonky, innit?" he drawled in a thickly fake, not to mention horrible English brogue. "'S what I thought, but Ripper 'ere didn't want to believe me."
The unamused, identical stares spawned by the two Englishmen wiped the snicker off his face, and things grew uncomfortable again. However short-lived: the bleached vampire was grinning in a second, slapping his sire on the back with lively enthusiasm.
"Didn't know you had it in you, Peaches. Where would I be if I couldn't take things with a spot of good humor?" William smirked and reached for his cigarettes; ignoring the pointed look Giles directed his way in silent reminder of their location. "'S not my place, Ripper," he observed as he lit up. "Don't give a bloody lot if it roasts. 'Sides, I've been doin' this for years. I'm careful." He blew a ring of smoke onto aged pages. "My guess 'ere is code."
"Code?" they echoed together.
"Yeh. They're places in 'ere where 's in English, an' it sounds all honky dory. This looks to be the only grammatical inconsistency. 'S definitely a message to the Slayer. I'm right sure 'bout that." William frowned thoughtfully. "Corou...'aven't heard that name before. 'Ave either of you?"
"Can't say that I have," Giles replied, lips pressed together in a tight frown. That alone nearly sealed it. If the Watcher had not heard of a historical figure sprouted from the demon world, the indications typically implied deception. "You think it might be a part of the code?"
"Makes sense enough, eh? Maybe an anagram or somethin'. We can make about a thousand things with those letters, though, and only 'alf of 'em would be intelligible." William sighed, eyes falling again to the highlighted name of the revealed Master, lips playing it out, testing its sound against still air. He was aware that his colleagues were watching him - Angel with surprise and Giles with interest. "Geryon," he hissed a minute later. "Bloody hell, that name really does sound familiar."
A series of nods followed the observation. "Yes," the Watcher agreed. "We thought so, as well. It's right there on the tip of my tongue, but..." He trailed off in thought, eyes flickering in the struggle with memory and fatigue. After a minute, he sighed and shook his head, removing his glasses to caress his eyes tiredly. "Perhaps it is getting a bit too late," he murmured.
"Pish posh, Ripper," William snickered. "Some literary reference. You don' spend as much time in a sodding library as I 'ave in the past few years without reading every bloody book the place has to offer. You should know that, old git. Prolly the only prat that's spent more time surrounded by books than I 'ave. I know I've..."
"The Inferno," Angel said suddenly, eyes going wide. "Geryon was the name of the serpentine monster that took Dante and Virgil from the seventh circle of hell to the eighth."
There was a long pause of comprehension, light dawning behind weary gazes. "By George, I think he's got it," the platinum vampire said gleefully. "Oh, that ponce. Tha's it. That has to be it."
"Of course," Giles agreed breathlessly. "So he decides to call himself by the name of a serpentine monster. What..."
"Exaggeratin' his powers?" William suggested.
Angel arched a skeptic brow. "Is that a chance we want to take?"
"No." The Watcher shook his head solemnly. "We can't. Will, look carefully. Our time is running out, and fast. We couldn't find anything...do you think it possible that you decode the message?"
There was no doubt in his voice. The unshakable confidence Giles expressed had the ability to swell you with pride and make you quiver with incompetence in chorus. However, the burden of responsibility was not one that William shied from these days. With a slight nod, he sighed. "I can try. 'S a matter of time, Ripper, an' how quickly we're runnin' out of it. When's this anniversary set to take place?"
"Two days," Angel and Giles answered in unison, earning a sharp gaze of understanding from the bleached vampire. No one could question just how sharply that date stood out. Buffy's first death-however brief-must have been horrific. A pain still struck deep in his chest whenever he thought of her, lying inert on the ground before him, a martyr - the gift of life for her sister.
And then new resolution. William shared a moment of private reflection before he hardened again, closing the book and placing it aside. "Won't bloody happen," he promised them. "Didn't come across the world to watch her be killed again. I'll get started on this." Sharply, he pivoted to Angel. "An' you should take her out on patrol. She won't listen to me...this bloke's got a yen to hurt 'er. 'S not a good idea that she be out there right now, but since she...go with her. I can't. I gotta work on this."
"I will," he whispered. "But not without trying to talk her out of it first."
"Right," the vampire snickered in turn. "Good luck."
A fond smile played across Giles's lips, and he shook his head in disagreement. "Getting Buffy to listen to reason will take more than luck," he observed. "Though I believe most everyone has lost faith in miracles, it being the twenty-first century."