Sang et Ivoire

By Holly

Chapter Three

For any vampire to sleep more than four hours undisturbed was unheard of in the modern day. More than enough research had cued Giles in to the normal sleeping gestations, and he marveled at his houseguest who remained unmoved, even when the coffee cup shattered against the kitchen floor. It had been a while, he supposed, since the vampire received adequate accommodations for rest. William remained pretty much dead throughout the morning-despite the Watcher's uninhibited execution of all rituals. He made breakfast, read the paper, ran the shower and shaved. Even the telling flick of the telly could not perturb the dead man's slumber.

A bizarre sense of déjà vu had grasped him upon seeing William sprawled across the couch. It was stranger than bursting into song unwittingly. It was an all-around time warp.

Then the phone cut through the air with a shrill. Giles leapt a foot in surprise, making a mad dash for the kitchen. The receiver clutched closely to his chest, he hazarded another glance at his unconscious company. William had purred slightly and rolled over. Nothing more. Heaving a sigh, he shook his head in amazement and clicked the connect dial on the phone. "Hello?"

Whoever he thought to expect-there was no way he could prepare for the onslaught of surprise. As if the atmosphere within the studio apartment wasn't awkward enough, the fates decided to throw her in the mix. He berated himself for not anticipating it. Life, thus far, was proving to be a raging sitcom.

"Hi, Giles!" she said chirpily. "What's up?"

The aftershock of astonishment had yet to wear off. "Bu-" He looked warily at William, who stirred slightly in his sleep. If nothing else were to wake him up, it certainly would be the sound of her name, regardless whether it was whispered or shouted. "Good morning. What-umm-is anything wrong?"

"Nothing. I...oh, God...is it like midnight there or something? I didn't think...did I wake you up?"

"No." The Watcher eyed the snoozing vampire again. Still asleep. "No...I'm just surprised. You haven't...ummm...I just left yesterday. There isn't anything wrong, is there?"

There was an artificial huff of air, carrying the tenor of being terribly offended. "What? Can't I call my former watcher just to-"

Giles smiled dryly. "Buffy..." he scolded softly.

Wrong thing to say. William's eyes popped open. With sudden urgency, he bolted upright and sought the Watcher's gaze, his own shrouded in confusion. He understood immediately what had disturbed his sleep, but...

His eyes widened as he observed the phone, a look of the most remarkable pain Giles had ever seen overcoming his features. Beyond reasoning, he portrayed the vestige of a man whose entire world had been torn from his grasp. As though some sadistic soul had intently murdered his family, mutilated their bodies, and sent him the picture.

As though Jenny Calendar had died all over again, only a thousand times worse.

Giles did not know how he could endure that. Have the woman he love alive and well, and hating him. And then he couldn't do it-couldn't confirm that it was she on the phone. It was meager compensation, but the most he could offer. Clearing his throat, the Watcher shook his head. "Ummm...right. It's just been, as you can imagine, a while since you called-"

Fortunately for both of them, she remained blissfully oblivious to the searing tension emanating from the other line. "Well, I really can't lie to you, can I? I'm worried-"

"What is it?" Giles raised his eyes to William once more, who stalked forward in a steadfast, broken manner. Though it was manifest that he did not crave sympathy, to ignore a creature of such raging pain was cruel and inhumane. He blurted the first invention he could into the receiver, though he knew not for whose benefit. "Taxes? Trouble with the IRS?"

It was the first cover that came to mind and succeeded in halting the vampire's approach and silencing the befuddled slayer. A grimace wrestled his features, but he held it at bay, determined to take the route constructed-however poorly.

"Ummm..." Buffy said after a minute, throwing it all to waste. Silence was shattered by her voice, and his face fell along with it. "No...I have all the help I need in that department, but thanks for checking up. You're a real pal."

"Right then. What is it you need?" Giles shot an apologetic look the vampire's way, one that screamed, 'I tried!' The hurt in William's face was replaced with confusion and gratitude. With a huff of ineffectual air, he shook his head and smiled sadly.

"Don't worry about me, Ripper," he assured him. "Like I couldn't avoid it. Bollocks. If I'm gonna help her, I need to come to terms with the fact that she exists somewhere in the world. She's your girl-your slayer. You can't avoid talking to her."

The Watcher smiled at his humility, touched and continuously impressed with the characteristics that were so similar but split in half. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Giles?" The tiny voice prodded him away. "Giles! Who's there? Who-"

William's eyes widened and he moved away from the phone with a fury, as though distance alone was the decisive factor in his imminent identification.

"My...umm, cousin is here to visit," Giles invented rapidly, catching the vampire's gaze, eyes blaring in warning. "Fitzwilliam. Yes. I've told you about-"

"Probably," Buffy said dismissively, eliciting a sigh of relief from the two men. William put on a frontage of endurance, straining his keen hearing to savor her voice-distorted by static but still as sweet. "Listen, we have...not necessarily a problem, but..." They both heard her frustrated growl. "I don't even see why he's having me call you. Willow and Anya are on the entire research thing. They haven't found anything extraordinary, but Xander insisted I call you to get your opinion." There was a brief pause. "Does your cousin know about the family business?"

Giles blinked. "Pardon?"

"Vampires? The whole slayage thing?"

"Oh." He chuckled nervously. "Yes, yes. In fact, Fitzwilliam was training in the Watcher's Guild before the Council..." At seeing William's eyes widen at the implication, he trailed off, ignoring the questioning look. "He's a curator of a library around here."

"Wow. Like cousin like... cousin." They both grinned at her-William's features empowered by almost boyish sheepishness. It was the sort of expression that read, 'All those little inconsistencies are just so... darn cute!'

Even still, Giles did not regret lying to him. The trip back home had been keen with stress and tension. Everyone welcomed Willow back with smiles and open arms. They were especially cautious-had removed and destroyed all things Wiccan from the Summers' residence. Pictures of Tara remained but in scarcity. The first few days were the worst-everyone was on pins and needles, watching Willow as though she was a time bomb waiting to explode.

Xander took care of her. In Anya's absence, he had admitted that his apartment was bare and lonely. Now in the stages of recovery, they were especially close. The few outings to the Bronze had proven as much-Willow had not allowed him out of arm's reach all night.

However, with all his love for Willow, Xander could not resist a barb at the missing vampire. Bitterness coated his tone, and while he spoke out of line, it was understandable. The entire foundation of understanding in his strange little world was based on the knowledge that Buffy hated Spike, would never, ever sleep with him, and that Anya was his reserve only. One night had taken that safehold away forever. "You know," he had said, not at all discreetly. "I really like this. Just us. No annoying non-pulsers lurking around. Almost like old times."

Giles had immediately looked to Buffy for reaction. While there was nothing to condone Xander's presumptions, she similarly did not rush to the absentee vampire's defense. Rather, her eyes went off in that dark way they had so often in the past year, a quiver seizing her lips. The Watcher had seen his slayer cry before and had long ago memorized all the characteristics that preceded an outburst. Fortunately, no one else was aware of her mood swing and thought nothing of it when she excused herself and made a dash for the ladies' room.

It was the only event that merited consideration as far as William was concerned. Giles had purposely withheld-he hadn't been certain until the night before that the vampire's intentions were as pure as he claimed. Now there was no point in sharing. It would only wound him further, and William, as loathe as he was to admit it, did not deserve further heartache. The hell he inhabited now was enough retribution for the wrongs of the past.

"What seems to be the problem?" he asked, attentively avoiding the use of her name. Every time it was spoken, a barb struck William in the heart. And yet he was not reduced to dust as he so plainly craved. Instead, he was made to tolerate reference after reference, and rendered him helpless to do anything that was asked him upon mention.

"Well," she mused thoughtfully. "Normal stuff, really. God, I'm so glad to be getting back to the normal stuff. Patrol last night-the usual places. Ran into your basic run-of-the-mill vamp. You know-not too bright but fangy in all the right places? Didn't appear anything special. Got a couple of good garbs. Made him bleed. After I dusted him, I went home and cleaned up and..."

William had neared again, stilling his body to deathly perfection. Giles waved him back a few paces ineffectually and encouraged Buffy to continue.

"Well, this is gonna sound really weird...his blood was black."

"Black?" The Watcher echoed, looking to the vampire questioningly and was rewarded with a shrug. "Uh, ummm...are you sure it wasn't a trick of light or-"

"Giles." There was sharpness in her tone-the voice she only used when she meant business. "Honestly, how long have I been doing this? Eight years now? I think I know what blood looks like in the dark. This was like...oil. Oily blood. Any clues? Ideas? Research or whatnot?"

Another look at William confirmed a non-understanding perspective. "No ideas off the top of my head, but I will look into it. Call again if anything of a similar nature happens."

"Right. Will do."

With a smile, Giles placed the phone back on the receiver. Without looking up, he gauged the reaction from his suitemate. Helpful but devastated. He would have liked to comfort William and assure him all would be well, but that meant to sacrifice pride for the sake of false hope, and he wouldn't do that to anyone.

And, of course, there was Buffy to consider. Buffy who possessed more of his loyalty than William could ever hope to touch.

Undeniably, the vampire before him was not even a shadow of what Angel had been.

William smiled sadly and shrugged. "S'all right, Ripper. Like I said, had to happen sooner or later. Better sooner. Makes it easier to deal with. If I'm gonna help, I gotta get used to it."

The Watcher frowned and started to say something, but thought the better of it and nodded. "You better start getting ready," he observed. "I arranged your meeting with the administration last night after you retired. We will need to leave in an hour and a half."

The vampire scoffed and shook his head, gesturing to the shut window with arched brows. "Uhhh...something tells me that won't be setting anytime soon. Air still stinks of sunrise."

"You've maneuvered in daylight before," Giles returned. "Much to everyone's dismay."

"Right. That'll make a fucking-a good impression if I run into the bleeding library before bursting into flames."

"You're going to have to. This is how people conduct business, Will."

William snickered. "Right. I see. You know, my internal clock is going to be all wonky. I'm used to sleeping through the day, mate. Not getting up to pick out neckties."

There was a wry smile. "What can I say, Spike? I'll do everything in my power to make a man out of you, even if it kills me."

The words escaped with such ease that it took a minute to digest. All at once, Giles reddened and looked away, clearing his throat and casting his eyes downward. "Mmm... my apologies. I didn't mean to insinuate-"

"But you did," William observed, stepping forward. "You meant it. I want you to mean it. Like it or not, mate, you're the only sodding chance I got of making it here. I'm not used to this. Well, I'm used to not killing, but not to all these bleeding warm fuzzies. To knowing I wouldn't jump your bones and suck you dry if I had half a chance." He cleared his throat and looked away. "Because I..." Cough. Titter. Twitch. "Ilikeyou."

He spoke so quickly-buried under an avalanche of reluctance-that it was impossible to catch in one breath. What was said was beyond the lines of probability, but it sounded too...

"What was that?" Giles whispered, awestruck.

There was a growl. "I said I like you! God, bloody hell, you need me to spell it out? You gave me a chance when you coulda-and let's face it-shoulda walked away. And now with all this..." Frustrated, he grasped at his heart and screamed. "Sodding soul! Bleeding chip! I don't know what I am anymore. There should be more than this, right? More than regret and guilt. Bugger it all. What am I s'ppsed to do? Make my sodding peace-yeah-then what? I'm so new at this. It feels familiar, but it's the same old thing. It hurts so bloody much, Ripper. Like tiny soldiers knit-knacking away at my insides."

"It's supposed to, Spike," Giles replied softly, his own voice having to elevate to be emphasized in the same degree. "You chose and you have your reward. No one said that it's going to be easy. No one agreed that it should be easy. I've given you a chance-perhaps against my better judgment-but that doesn't mean it's going to be easy sailing. After what you have done..."

Darkness glazed over his eyes and his entire being quaked with impact. "I need no bloody reminders about what I've done."

"I know." And he did. Truthfully, Giles understood the cruelty of making mention of past indiscretions for spite. Out of all feasible punishments, it was the one he did not deserve. "I'm just saying... these coming months are going to be difficult. I have reason to believe that you might be more deeply affected by your acquisition than Angel was. You seem to be able to differentiate the line between yourself and your demon whereas he never could, but you have admitted that you committed many of your atrocities yourself, or that you were at least implied. You might never fully recover, but as long as you try, I can expect no more."

The morning progressed as normally as it could. William made use of the shower as Giles overviewed the agenda. Clothing selections were a minimum-the Watcher and the vampire were of similar height, but William was practically skin and bones. All the proffered attire hung off his body like a parachute.

"Bloody hell, yah wanker," he muttered, glancing into the mirror that reflected nothing in the room. "You're bigger than you look."

There was a pregnant pause when the Watcher walked in. Their gazes caught and held before Giles burst out laughing. It was too much. The image of the Big Bad in an oversized tweed jacket, long dangly necktie, and baggy dress pants resembled some horrid circus attraction.

Discouraged by the reaction, the vampire rolled his eyes and scoffed proudly, reaching up to straighten his tie. The ensemble was truly ridiculous, but there was nothing else. It was too late to run out for last minute shopping and there was no way anyone would hire him if he sported those black jeans and spandexy top. This was it. "That's right. Laugh at the neutered vamp. I'm dressed up like this for her and you... mostly her, you bloody ponce. Least you can do is let me walk out of 'ere with my dignity."

"You mean, when you rush out of here with a blanket over your head?"

William smirked at him. "Is it too late to take back my self-righteous speech? I've gone back to hating you."

Giles rumbled with light chuckles and offered a nod. "All right. Out with you. Might as well pick up some breakfast on the way, unless you've filled yourself up on Wheatabix."

In front of him, the vampire paused in mid-stride and pivoted to arch a brow at him. "Hullo? Have you gone all loony? I'm always peckish." At the implication, his mouth twisted into a familiar grin and his eyes danced. "One way or another."

There was a brief silence at the unvoiced inference that couldn't help but tag along with the statement-and both grins were wiped from their faces. When the air threatened to become uncomfortable, William coughed and turned again, continuing down the hallway. "This isn't a good idea," he said casually, attempting with futility to hide the quake in his voice. "I highly doubt you've had your windows tinted for a man with my skin condition."

"This windows are tinted-the sunlight will be indirect only."

William snickered. "Well, well. How handy. So I might only explode a little. Thanks for thinking of me, mate."

"Quiet," the Watcher admonished as he slipped on his jacket. They stopped outside where the sun struck the curb. Immediately, the vampire brought an arm up to shield his eyes, fighting the urge to hiss at the unwanted light. Giles arched a brow at him. "If you're going to be like this, I won't take you by the butcher shop."

The sudden blaze behind William's eyes informed him that he was touched by the notion, but arrogance stood in the way of returning with any sort of thanks. "I see. Dress me up like a poof, burn me to a crisp, but gimme a nummy treat to make up for it." His words were a direct contradiction to the gratitude seething in the hidden layers of his tone. The elevation to admitting he liked the Watcher was enough of the aforementioned warm fuzzies for one morning. Or lifetime. "But the tummy is making some rumblies, so let's go."

Thankfully, William had turned away before the other man's smirk could burn into his back.

There were upsides to this arrangement. In broad daylight, all he had to do was follow the smoke.

"Hurry up!" the panicky vampire yelped, performing an impressive hop dance outside the passenger window. "My blanket's beginning to fry!"

"Just out of curiosity," Giles said calmly as he strode up and unlocked the door, pausing long enough for William to bolt inward. "What happened to your duster?"

An emotional pause-the Watcher identified the resignation easily, regarded the telling fall of his eyes and the lower lip that quivered whenever she was in any means concerned in their discussions. The answer was coming, but not for a minute. With a sigh, Giles closed the door and made his way to the driver's side. Despite the promised darker tinting, he found William in the backseat, cradled beneath his blanket before the door had a chance to shut.

By the sharp, unnecessary intakes of breath, Giles could tell his answer was not forthcoming. The car pulled out and was a quarter mile down the street before dialogue broke the silence. His voice was sullen, as though he was speaking to himself. "Bet she burned it." A desolate sound-barely above a whisper. "Wouldn't bloody blame her."

There was nothing else. The Watcher exhaled and offered no reply, resigning himself as always to the recesses of his thoughts. That was what had been different about her. It looked so odd on anyone else. He had long ago grown accustomed to her hauling around that jacket Angel gave her so many years ago, but hadn't been able to identify her new coat until he was halfway across the ocean. None of the Scoobies had taken note of it, and if they hadn't by then, chances were they never would.

"You left it at her house, then?"

"Just drive, you sodding ponce." There was an uncomfortable twitch followed by a long silence. He cleared his throat. "Could we not talk about this, Ripper?"

"Of course."

The air fell silent once more, void of discussion. There was nothing left to say.

*~*~*

"I can see now why you wanted me in this job," William observed, turning down another isle of books, nodding toward the sunshine pouring in through numerous skylights. "Move a bleeding foot in this place and I'll add to the dust." With a crooked brow, he shot Giles a weary look. "Remind me again why I'm the one being interviewed. This really seems to be more your department."

"Because, believe it or not, I have a job. And you were just last night discussing the nobility of paying with your own hard-earned money."

"I said I didn't want to mooch, I never said-"

The Watcher silenced him with a look, removing his glasses and waving away the cloud of dirt hovering over the volume he had just closed. "Some miscellaneous recovery work for the Council. I'm supposed to...well...recover. Our last endeavor wasn't as-"

"I heard. Everything went all wacky. And you're helping them because...?"

"Same reason you're here," Giles replied, hands finding his pockets. "Because I believe it will eventually help her. Help them-Willow and the rest. As it is, you likely won't be required to do much around here. During daylit hours, you can settle yourself in the curator's apartment or do something helpful-like study the manuscripts downstairs. This vampire that attacked Buffy, for starters. Anything coming that would make its blood turn black. I can manage everything else."

William snickered, unable to conceal the strain that crossed his face to hear her name. It would take some conditioning. "What makes you so sure I'll get the job?"

"Well, other than blind luck, as long as you refrain from calling the administrators 'bloody ponces' or 'a useless lot of poofters'... your credentials-those I forged in addition to your knowledge of history-are impeccable."

"You shouldn't talk like that, mate," the vampire returned with a leer. "It's bloody disrespectful."

But the Watcher's focus was driven elsewhere. Heaving a sigh, he turned away to estimate the size of the room. A gallery of books could be seen in every direction. It was much grander than the position he had once held in Sunnydale, and something told him these editions would not simply waste away with only their eyes to seek higher knowledge.

"Bollocks," came from behind. "I'm going to get lost every time I turn around in 'ere." An exaggerated pause. "So where are these ponces? Don't they know how to keep a date?"

"Spike, I know patience isn't a virtue where you're concerned, but-"

"But nothing! I get all dressed up like a sodding poofter to meet the wankers, and if I didn't know better, I-"

A throat cleared behind them and the room grew deathly still. "Good afternoon, gentlemen," a stuffy voice grumbled. With deliberate slowness, the vampire and the Watcher turned. If he had a pulse, William would have turned an interesting shade of red.

Once satisfied that he had their attention, the pudgy little man turned and directed over his shoulder. "The others are inside the foyer. If you would follow me..."

They fell into step quickly-too embarrassed to opt for anything else. Through a confusing labyrinth of isles and dusty titles, they maneuvered. It was nearly a surprise when the maze ended, even more so when Giles abruptly seized William by the collar and jerked him back.

The meeting room was completely encompassed with fiery skylights-the table inconveniently position in the center. A large ray displayed heavenly across the mahogany, bouncing off balding heads and hitting the vampire directly in the eyes. He bit his tongue to wan away a scream but couldn't help the loud-"BLOODY HELL!"-from escaping his lips. It was the most primal of reactions and he was its slave, powerless to do anything but obey.

The sound of heavy Cockney filled the room, not echoing away until every pair of eyes was fixated on him in appalled surprise. Even then, the walls and volumes seemed to capture its hum, holding for prolonged seconds before everything once again fell to silence.

William, however, was not paying attention. His hand-oddly not decorated with trademark black nail polish-was caressing the blind spot over the ridge of his nose, comforted by an agitated Giles who pat his back reassuringly.

A sea of blank faces was still waiting for an explanation when attention was finally averted. The vampire might have had the decency to look mortified if he wasn't preoccupied by a sudden headache.

Giles cleared his throat-seeing he would receive no support-and turned to their waiting audience. "Ummm...my cousin has a rather serious skin condition. He reacts violently to direct sunlight. Is there any way this meeting could resume elsewhere?"

A disgruntled murmur sprang through the crowd before they decided to comply. Each shot William a rather nasty look before exiting. The agitated vampire ignored them with grave disinterest, his consideration with the Watcher. He had so wanted to do a good job and had the irreplaceable feeling that he had already messed everything up beyond the brink of no return. "Don't ask me how I know this," he grumbled, attempting unsuccessfully to gauge his reaction. "But I think that just buggered up my chances."

To his surprise, Giles wasn't as dissatisfied as his frontage would portray. Instead, he offered a grim headshake and shrugged. "Don't be too soon to dismiss yourself," he retorted, his sentiments too easily discerned. "They haven't heard you speak yet." At that, he paused and cracked a good-natured though concerned smile. "Take that back. We are doomed."

"Bleeding sunlight," William sneered, hopping artfully to avoid another beam. "I thought libraries were supposed to be dark and musty."

"That's the stereotype, Spike."

"I like the sodding stereotype. Fits my character. Has a nice 'no dusty' policy that comes along with it."

"For heaven's sake, lower your voice."

The attic-the least likely place to hold a meeting of this nature. The only place where they were guaranteed no natural light. It was amusing to see a group of suits hovering over crates. William had not fully recovered from his sunlight excursion and to refrain from rubbing his eyes. Something told him it was unprofessional.

Sod professional. It's over before it started.

A minute adjustment passed before the first cleared his throat and began.

"Now...that we're all comfortable..." There was unnecessary emphasis at the end of the sentence, which the vampire decided to ignore. "What is your full name?"

"William...ummm..." Somehow, he didn't believe 'the Bloody' would cut it with these gents. With quick desperation, he glanced at Giles and invented, "Ripper. William Ripper."

The Watcher threw his head back and moaned lightly to himself. No one seemed to notice.

Amused by the concealed burst of what had to be pride, William smirked and added, "the second. William Ripper II."

"Right." One of the administrators tossed Giles a discreet, disbelieving glance. "Now then, Mr...Ripper. Tell me, why do you believe you would be the correct choice to fill this position?"

William had never been to an actual interview before. Vampires, by common knowledge, didn't attempt to incorporate themselves into conventional society. He knew Angel ran that investigations shindig like only Angel would, but this was different. An actual bona fide job. Something anyone could do. Something to fit the shoes of Joe Average. Honest money to buy his own goods with. That was, of course, assuming he had the qualifications as set by this lot of poofters. The questions were ridiculously simplistic-allegedly conjured up by some brain behind a big desk who probably didn't have to do a lot of his own thinking. Everything they asked was known territory in the land of demonhood. He indulged in lengthy accounts of both notable and unknown historical events. Those he hadn't witnessed had long ago been crammed into his cranium by over zealous parents who had wanted him to do something with his life.

Oh yes. Wouldn't mum be proud now?

There was, of course, the part of history only known to his kind and the hunters of his kind. It took a bit of stamina to separate what was conventionally recognized and what was fact. What the history booked cleverly omitted from record.

None of this, however, seemed to matter in the end. Despite his knowledge and qualifications, the board members were unmoved. None warmed up to him, even if he gave a particularly scholarly answer. The only confirmation he had to know he wasn't digging himself into a larger trench than he could afford was the continuous stream of approving nods coming from the Watcher in the back.

"You are aware of the loopholes in your background?" one of the suits asked. "You claim to have been born in 1962, but there is no birth certificate." They hadn't had time to get all the goods just yet. William's counterfeit citizenship was slow in the making. "And you were allegedly educated at Oxford. There is no record of your attending there during any of the specified dates on your résumé." The man flashed a PR smile for good sport. "We can't lie to you-there's a psychiatrist with an absolutely flawless record to his credit competing for this job. Why should we hire you, a man of rather ambiguous background-not to mention serious skin condition, in this place? There are no flaws in his qualifications, and he knows his material more thoroughly than any man I have ever met."

William's fists curled tightly at his sides. Ignorance could be a bliss, but it tasted foul along with natural stupidity. There was no one who could beat him in qualifications for this job, unless it was Peaches or some other demon. But that was impossible. Demons by nature were thieves-if they wanted something, they took it. No questions asked. It was what they did. But to make an honest living? An honest normal living? He had to be the first in history. Simply the prompting urged him to release his demon and show them exactly why he was preferable over any sodding shrink. Just a little show and tell for the nice men. And he couldn't bite them if he wanted to...no harm done.

A look from Giles confirmed that his thoughts had been read, and that it was in the worst manner of approach. He had to swallow a grumble. Fine then, mate. The hard way.

"Ummm...well..." There was no sure way to get around this. "I can't offer anything concrete, I'll admit. But-I, of, bloody hell. What I can give you...I know I know more than this poof. I can't tell you how, but..." William growled. He was slipping-badly-and he knew it. "Unless you really want..." Desperately, his eyes shot back to Giles for permission. Pleading.

When he received no instruction, the vampire took that as the go-ahead. There was no way he could bugger this up any more for himself-might as well go all out. With a primordial, throaty growl, he jumped to his feet and flexed. "You wanna know why I'm your man?" he hissed. "This is why."

Before Giles could leap forward, before he could raise his voice in opposition, William's human vestige melted away and the demon emerged. It felt weird at first-he hadn't had cause to morph in over two months. And yet here was. Unchanged in so many ways. William the Bloody-Spike-growling deeply as his yellow eyes flickered over the wave of mortified faces. "This is why. Because I, you sodding buffoons, am the...well, neutered Big Bad. I've lived history, mate. I've been there. I've tasted it. I've-"

"You're..." One of the men was so startled by the transformation that he had fallen backward over a few crates. "Not human. You're-"

"A vampire." He nodded. "Right, bint. But I'm a, well, not good vampire, but I haven't been bad for a while." William looked desperately to Giles, who was muttering incoherently to himself while cradling his head in shame.

"Like I was saying," the vampire continued. "I'm right for this job because of who I am, because of what I've seen. What I've done. Tell them, Ripper! Tell 'em everything!"

"It's true," the Watcher said firmly, voice angry but compliant. He answered with unexpected rapidity. "Spike-William, rather, has a chip in his head that prevents him from feeding on humans." When the vampire cleared his throat, Giles irately rolled his eyes and added, "Oh. Yes. He has a soul, as well. He's comparable to an immortal human in many regards. As harmless as a puppy." A flash crossed William's eyes, but he knew it was just. In truth, these accusations of wholly goodness hadn't annoyed him for some time. It was habit that made him react rather than will. More over, he felt himself yearning for approval with every day that passed. He saw that he had edged to the Watcher's sour side with his audacity and couldn't convince himself that he didn't care. He did. He cared a lot.

Thankfully, the weight measured equally on either side. The anger in Giles's tone was counterpoint to the growing comprehension. Perhaps the slipup was forgivable. The administration hadn't asked them to leave and had yet to decline William as a potential candidate. Perhaps this position of power by suggestion could come in useful-only used for dire emergencies, of course. On a softer note, the Watcher continued. "William really is the best man for the job. He is attempting to incorporate himself into society. Who could be better for reference than someone who has been there?" Irritation was vacating his eyes slowly, and William allowed himself an unneeded sigh of relief. "I can vouch for his character. Spike-Will-whatever has admittedly enjoyed as much mayhem as any other demon in his time, but for reasons unknown to me, he changed. He has saved the lives of those he once considered his enemies as many times as he attempted to kill them, perhaps even more so. He changed then and again. Acquiring a soul was simply the next level."

The vampire smiled, touched.

A cautious voice dared make the first move. "So...he won't attempt to-"

William shook his head and sat back conversationally. "All right. So I lied. Haven't been the Big Bad for a few years. I was in spirit the entire time, don't get me wrong." He stopped himself to chuckle at the irony. "In spirit," he repeated to himself, shaking his head dryly. A look of warning from Giles sent him back on topics. "Anyway, I mean, for a while I still tried to do bad, evil things. But that ended about two years ago. I've been-well-" Even soulful Spike had difficulty with the terminology. "Bugger, I need to accept it. I've been a bloody boy scout ever since. I got me a soul. Even endured torturing from a bitch Hell-goddess without telling her what she wanted, and-"

"Fine!" the head suit said hurriedly. "I don't need any more convincing. You got the job."

William grinned. "Cor, mate. You don't hafta plunder outta 'ere. I was just listing my qualifications, since you asked. If ya wanna-"

"Spike," Giles said sharply. "You're still in game face."

The smirk was stolen from his lips. "Oh. Right. Sorry about that." The contours of his face relaxed and masked over once more as human. An audible breath rippled through the men, who were slightly pale on a collective whole. One in particular was studying him hard, as though still uncertain.

William rolled his eyes. "Look, I'm not going to eat you if you wankers don't hire me. Wouldn't even if I didn't have a pretty piece of silicon lodged in my head. I was a good vampire-best to my ability; got the sodding job done before the change-and even a good man, once. Long time ago, true, but that little prat is somewhere within me. Here." He tapped on his chest-a habit becoming more and more secondary. "Like Ripper says, I know more about any bloody historical event than whatever educated doc you have on the list. I've lived it-don't need schoolin'. Gimme a chance at least. If yah don't like, you can fire me, and I still won't eat you. Just tell me somethin' real. I need work."

"You got the job," the same man warily acknowledged. "All right? Just... for god's sake, shut up! Good lord, is there a mute button on this rambling buffoon?"

"Believe me," Giles chimed in. "I've looked."

However, little attention was paid to the side commentary. The head administrator squared his eyes levelly with William's and he said courageously, "Don't make us regret this."

The vampire issued one of his patented cocky grins and leered victoriously at the Watcher. "No worries, mate. I don't intend to."

*~*~*

After dark, the library obtained that highly sought stuffy feel, as if all the pages of the numerous volumes decided to mend together. The administrators had left hours before in a humorous frenzy, all conjuring up falsities of other priorities to tend to. William was issued the key to his curator's apartment as well as a brief though edited guideline to etiquette expectations. Despite the frequent claims of integrity, most of the board members remained on pins and needles around him-half-expecting him to reveal his demon at the slightest prompting.

Knowing the position was his, honestly, no less, gave William a sense of accomplishment he had never before experienced. In his practice, if you wanted something, you went out and took it. Didn't matter if it was held, owned, or loved by someone else. The law didn't apply to demons, and the years had molded him into the craftiest pickpocket on either side of the Atlantic. To stand in the middle of the library-the LIBRARY in all its musky goodness-and know that the employment he sought was his by honest means, by, ironically enough, being himself, made him swell with pride.

"There now, Ripper," he said to Giles as he tested the door he had locked. Sturdy as a post. "And you were worried I'd bugger it'd up. Tsk tsk tsk. Next time, try to have a lil faith me, eh?"

The Watcher came into view, a thick ancient book cradled in the nook of his left arm. He appeared engorged in the text, but William had seen this before. Giles was perhaps the one man alive who could read, process unrelated information, and speak without confusing his thoughts. When he had digested the concluding sentence, he made his soft reply without looking up. "Mmm, yes. You handled yourself brilliantly today, Spike. You firstly made a fool out of yourself by not watching where you were stepping, then you scared the management into hiring you, else you eat their children in the dead of night."

William frowned. "Hey, wait a sodding minute, you old bint. I-"

There was a sight not many had the privilege to witness. A devious spread nether with Watcher's lips as he finally closed the book and glanced up. "My, my, aren't you quick to jump to your defense? Actually, I thought you did quite well today, Will. I admit you have had better moments-(William Ripper II?)-but when things got rough, you did something that I never thought possible."

"What?"

"You told the truth." Giles smiled kindly. "Without prompt, at your own discretion. You won yourself this job by being you. Spike. William. Whoever you are. You did yourself proud today." There was a good-natured sigh as he slipped on his coat, moving for the front door. "I suggest we hit the butcher's before they close."

A smile of pure pride anointed William's pleased expression. Imagine, two nummy treats in one day! With uninhibited eagerness, he tossed the keys into the air and caught them with a closed fist, turning to lock the door before slipping them into his pocket. "That's me, all right," he decided smugly. Then, without warning, he fell serious, running a hand through browning hair. "Listen...ummm, Ripper. I know things have been weird-"

"Spike, there's-"

"No. Lemme say this." He huffed out a breath. It was odd watching William at times. Unlike other vampires, it was easy-it had been easy for a long while-to forget that he didn't need food like humans do, that air was optional and water was just as effective if left alone. Regardless of his abbreviated list of needs, he always indulged in additional pleasures. Breathing came as naturally to him at times as it did Ripper or any mortal-he often felt he might fall over dead if he didn't inhale quickly. Human food was a delight he would not soon give up. Gives the blood texture, he had explained a lifetime before.

It was easy to forget he was dead.

"You took me in when you didn't hafta, old man. After what I did...everything I did. I've put you through hell more than once, I know. Balls, I've put everyone I've ever encountered through hell." His feet shuffled uneasily. "I don't know... I haven't figured out where I end and Spike begins. Things that I usta love have just lost all their... I'm-"

"Lost." Giles's lips pursed. "It's all right."

"No! It's not!" The words came violently; the Watcher blinked and stepped back in surprise. "I mean... you've been so bloody damned nice to me since last night. I know I hadn't done nothing to deserve it. I'm a ponce, Ripper! Wanderin' around, not knowing what's what or why anything's the way... it's just wonky, that's what it is." He sighed again, heavily, chest constricting as though he needed the air he robbed from the earth in which to fill his lifeless lungs. "It, and don't take this the wrong way, mate... it was almost easier for me when you were all Watcher like. Defenden' her to the bleeding tenth degree, scrutinizin' every look I gave you in that way that screams, 'What is that sodding bastard thinking now?' I'm suddenly worried that whatever comes out of my mouth might have serious consequences. I know I'll never have your friendship, or even your trust. I don't want it. I don't deserve it." Another long, exaggerated breath. Where did he store all that air? "But I'm afraid that one day you'll forgive me. Forgive me fo' what I did to her. What I've done to you." A last pause for emphasis. Clear blue eyes set into his with the coldest sincerity he had ever seen. "You can't ever let yourself do that."

The request hit Giles like a bucket of ice water-stealing the air from his body. There was no correct way to respond. What was there to do? Nod and confirm that forgiveness would never be an issue, so there was no point in even bringing it up? True, the Watcher was a long way from ever considering clemency. William might be himself now, but he was too much a shadow of Spike to ignore the past's numerous indiscretions. Last night, he had stopped hating him. Hating him for what he did to the girl he reflected as the daughter he never had, hating him for trying to kill the Scoobies over and over even when they offered friendship, hated him for being human without being alive. For expressing more humanity than some people ever got around to revealing. Hating him for loving her with such purity that it took two deaths and a rebirth for anyone-Giles, the least likely of the entire gang, to realize the feelings were genuine. That a demon could love and feel his share of guilt. That Spike might have been the offender, but he was also the savior of his own darkness. He had left to change himself, and, for better or worse, here he was. The man time and the past two years had made him into. The man. The man. He had never thought of Spike as a man before, but with more moments like these, the notion didn't seem as far away. It was near. Tangible.

But forgiveness? How long had it taken him to forgive Angel for murdering his girlfriend? For torturing him mercilessly? Giles had the fuzzy memory of Spike rolling in and preventing Angelus from spilling his blood onto the carpet of the mansion. He knew now, of course, that at the time, the vampire had been working in cahoots with Buffy and his motives were anything but pure. He also knew that Spike had abandoned the slayer when he could have fulfilled his end of the bargain and kill Angelus.

It was fortune for everyone that he hadn't. Even then, however, he had displayed his humanity. His tough, impenetrable humanity. Giles knew Spike could never be good simply for the effect of being good, but what did it matter as long as he was? His love for Buffy had morphed him into something none of them were prepared for. A man.

And now, here he was. Standing in all his suffering-the extended misery that would remain until the end of time for the knowledge of what he lost, what he could not have-begging the man who should have hated him never to forgive him of his crime. William the Bloody.

Giles exhaled slowly and regained his breath, shaking his head to wan away conflicting thoughts. He stepped forward. "Why?"

The returned question was unexpected-William had obviously thought to find no conflict in his request. It seemed most natural, after all. "Why? Because I don't want anyone to. I don't want forgiveness. Yours will do me no good-I know I will never forgive myself. Why should you?"

"Because that's what people do, Spike," the Watcher replied softly. "We hurt, we bleed, we cry, we heal, and we forgive. Sometimes it takes days, other times...well, a lot longer. What you did to Buffy was terrible. Terrible. I know that. I can't think of anything worse...anything that you could have done to violate her more than what you did. But I also understand that you had no control over it, and that a part of you realized that at the time. I won't fancy myself into believing you would have stopped yourself had she not. We both know the answer to that. You're a demon. Demons hurt people. It's what they're made for. I know you tried to overcome that and weren't given the fairest chance. You must realize that we were so accustomed to you trying to kill us that this New And Improved Spike was simply...an enigma. You did really noble things as a demon. You saved Dawn, Buffy, and the others countless times. You would have given your life to Glory if you had had the chance." A perceptible flinch from the bewildered vampire. Giles could relate. He had died that day and remembered well Spike's reaction. A sullen sight-the broken-hearted, guilt-wrenched vampire, moping and sobbing, but protecting as he promised. Ah, that was another thing. "You kept your promises. Buffy trusted your word as strongly as she trusted any man's. But your inner nature was evil, it still is-you can't deny it. Darkness courses through you as it does Angel, but you ignore it. You mastered ignoring your dark side long ago. So you see, Will, when you ask me never to forgive you, I can't say that I ever will, but I can't promise that I won't. I'm not sure if that is the sort of thing you ever can forgive. This is a unique situation-what hasn't been that we faced? It's in the past. You can't do over again, and I don't believe either of us could say things would go over differently even if that were an option. What you can do is help her here. Help her through me. Help me watch her and protect her." Giles sighed and stepped away to admire the building they had exited. "You've braved yourself into things this far."

There was a short silence and a huff of air. "It's hard," William said begrudgingly. "Knowing I'll help her but never see her, and know it's what I deserve. I deserve it, Ripper. I bloody well know it, too. I'm not gonna complain. Just being allowed this..." He gestured meaningfully at the sky, arm waving toward the library. "It's more than I coulda hoped for. I don't deserve it."

"I know." Cold, hard acceptance. The vampire didn't deserve his chance at redemption, but here he was. Weary, afraid, but willing. "But try to, Spike. Try to deserve it."

He snorted. "Believe me, mate. I've never wanted to deserve anything this badly in my entire existence."

The air fell silent and they walked. Side by side. Hands stuffed respectfully into their pockets. One pair of eyes cast upward, the blue gaze fixed steadfast on the toes of his boots. Both somnolent and cagey, both with one person in mind. The girl that shared their similar affections. Daughter to one and love of his life to the other.

To them, the night breathed for her. She resided an ocean away, and yet raised such angst wherever her name was mentioned. She owned both their hearts and didn't realize it yet. Didn't realize the magnitude of that devotion: the power that drove two very unlikely enemies to this state of awkward friendship and compliance. That which prompted Giles to offer his couch one more night so William would not have to be alone.

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