Sang et Ivoire

By Holly

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Home is where the heart is.

Buffy bit her lip and attempted to kick the thought out of her head with little success. There was nothing to suggest a forlorn displacement on William's face as they stepped off the plane. Nothing but bland acceptance, perhaps a flicker of his eyebrows in recognition of something he had missed over the past month or so.

The first light of dawn was creeping past the horizon. She had smelled its intensity while in the air, but shivers ran up her spine now with grim forewarning. A long time ago, Angel had told her that flying was not in the best interest of vampires, and she had accepted it. William, however, had more experience when it came to the art of skipping the country in a blink. They had spent the better of the previous night working out a timetable that would allot them to miss the sun completely on their venture.

"Had to do the same thing with Ripper," he had explained, cigarette puckered between his lips. "Right before we came over 'gain. Gave 'im a right lesson on how to deal with delays, cancellations, an' the like. It was fun, knowin' stuff 'e din't."

She had smiled and patted his hand in an almost condescending matter. "I'll bet."

They had beaten daylight by a hair. It was beginning to crinkle into perspective, and she suddenly felt stripped and barren. Cold and alone. Without thinking, she grasped William's arm and held tight for reassurance.

"'S all right," he said. "Trust me, luv. That coat you're wearin' 'll swallow you whole. 'S gotten me through many a sticky situation."

At that, Buffy grinned. She couldn't help it. "I remember."

He arched a brow and granted her his eyes. "You do?"

"Well, I'm guessing you went through a thousand blankets at the very least." She tugged at the leather lapels of her duster. "This has its marks, but is otherwise unscathed."

"Made to last forever, baby," he agreed with a grin.

"What about you?"

"Me? Pet, I know every street in this ruddy town back an' front. I know exactly where the sun hits at what time. I can dodge the bullet pretty well, 'f I don' say so myself."

Her eyes narrowed. "You can't be serious. I'm not going to leave until I know that-"

William smiled gently and removed the single carry-on they had taken aboard the plane. "Peaches an' I used these to see the Nibblet graduate. 'S a pain in the arse, but I figure, better safe then a pile of dust."

Inside the bag were an overly large poncho, an umbrella, and a pair of sunglasses in manner of Men In Black. She couldn't help it; Buffy dissolved into giggles.

"Got you an' umbrella an' specks, too," he announced, grinning at her reaction but making no note of it. "Nicked 'em from Peaches." When she narrowed her eyes, he shrugged sheepishly and conceded. "Fine, I asked 'im nicely an' he handed 'em over. 'S not like 'e had any great use for 'em, anyway."

"I always knew you two could become very best friends if you put your mind to it," she teased.

"'Ey there. Tha's not-"

"Shhh." She leaned supportively on him; drawing in the scent of long-extinguished cigarettes and the remnants of the brandy they had shared the night before. "Your secret's safe with me."

The platinum vampire smirked at her, steering her down one of the darker hallways. There was no need to visit baggage claim - neither had brought anything. A stop by the library and his curator's suite would provide more than enough clothing to supply him for the next few days, and she, despite all reasoning and logicality, had exhibited no desire to pack a shred of fabric. She had assurances that there would be plenty to wear.

"Once the lights go out, I'll give yeh a tour of the town," he said, taking her hand. "Oughta be a kick."

"I'm just itching to see this library Giles has told me about," Buffy replied in earnest. "Will we be meeting the administrators that hold you in such high esteem?"

"Likely not. I'll need to phone 'em an' let 'em know of the situation."

"What situation?"

"That they'll be needin' to find a new keeper."

The slightest hint of tang tickled his tone. A frown creased her face, and while she ran her hand supportively down the length of his arm, the will to keep closely guarded by a short-trained leash was slowly leaving. Realization was a funny thing; it struck only after she had what she wanted. What she has lost everything trying to gain.

It was time to stop being selfish.

"Will," she said softly. "You don't have leave the library if you don't want to. I mean, you don't want to. I know that well enough. Just... looking at you confirms that. You shouldn't have to give all this up for me."

He paused shortly, grip on her tightening with protective animality. "I want to, luv," he said. There was every hope of authenticity in his voice, in the way he looked at her as though her words formed the stake that pierced his nonbeating heart. "Thought I'd made that clear."

"No. What you made clear was that you wanted me to be happy, despite what that costs you." She shook her head with a heavy breath. "What... what happened has opened my eyes up to more than one... I've been so self-involved. And I knew it. I knew that I knew it... I've told you time and time again, but I couldn't stop. Even when I knew it was destroying me. I won't let it destroy you, too."

William arched a brow and grasped her chin fiercely, jerking her eyes to meet eyes. "Do I look destroyed?" he demanded. "Li'l scarred, sure. You got a mean right hook, luv. I won' kid 'round with you. But it takes more than that to destroy me, an' it sure takes a hella lot more to destroy you. All what 'appened did was open my eyes."

"Yeah, and what a sight that must've been," Buffy retorted bitterly, pulling out of his reach. "I can't do this to you. Make you give up everything you started here just because I have issues. Because I-"

"Everythin' I started 'ere?" The platinum vampire was only minimally aware that his voice had elevated, and didn't care for the inquisitive glances it earned from bystanders. "Luv, you 'ave no idea what I started 'ere. I came 'ere to get away from myself. Myself an' every bloody thing I'd ever done wrong by you or the rest of the sodding Scoobies. It was blind luck that I ran into Ripper that night an' said all the wrong things. 'S always been about you. Always. 'S why I got up every... well, yeh, every mornin'. 'S why I came halfway across the world to see you, even when I knew I..." He trailed off, eyes darting in a thousand directions. "I wanted to do what was right by you. 'F that Master 'adn't sunk his teeth in yeh, things woulda been different. You woulda had your life ahead of you. Now you 'ave more than that: you 'ave a thousand lives. God-willin'... Unless you right tell me to, I don' aim to go anywhere."

Tears of an unknown target clouded her eyes. She had cried so much these past few days. It was amazing there was still anything to give. There they stood for several minutes, encompassed in each other's soothing company. Standing in the heart of consolidation.

It was time to go.

There wasn't need for further discussion. William took her hand and guided her through the airport, and they were outside before she knew it. Shivers of radiated warmth shimmied down her spine. Even in the shadows, the sunlight could reach her. Chill her. Much to her surprise, her companion neglected to withdraw the supplementary deterrent wear he had been so insightful to pack. Instead, he nodded her down a labyrinth of various alleyways, hailed a cab, and had all but managed to beat daybreak altogether until she felt a fiery sensation spring across her back.

"'Ere," he said hurriedly, producing an umbrella. "Use your coat, luv. We're nearly there."

"What about you?"

William flashed her a patronizingly cocky grin. "Don' worry. I've been 'ere a time or two."

It wasn't much for reassurance. The sleeve of his shirt had burst into flames.

"Bloody hell," he grumbled, extinguishing it the spark with panicked rapidity. "Hate it when that 'appens."

"Ummm... indoors? Anytime soon?" She yanked the bag of goodies into grasp and threw a poncho over his head. At his incredulous glance, she rolled her eyes. "Humor me. Let's go."

The library was larger than she had imagined. In the years that Giles had been her Watcher, she and the gang had kidded him endlessly about his life in England. It was odd to have at least a part of their well-founded theories validated by fact. However, interior wasn't dark and musky as she would have expected. Skylights beamed arches of sunbeams through empty aisles of endless books. It was truly a Watcher's haven.

"Home sweet home," he drawled appreciatively.

Skeptically, she arched a brow and pointed to the rather problematic situation of the ceiling.

William grinned. "Told Ripper when I firs' came 'ere that I understood why 'e wanted me in the job. It was a nice easy way to get a quick dustin'. 'S really not that bad, pet. You jus' gotta get that rhythm to it."

"Rhythm?"

If his smile grew any wider, it would qualify for its own zip code. There were parts of him simply bursting with ecstasy at the promise of being back, despite how he tried to hide it.

"Jus' watch an' learn."

Like a trained dancer, he moved gracefully (but in a very manly way, of course) across the library floor. Every motion was made in an elegant arch away from any potential beams of light. He completed the routine with a stylish skid across one of the mahogany tables, miraculously without knocking over any books.

A rumble of mirth was captured before it could erupt from her throat. "What? No jazz hands?"

He turned back to her with a swaggering flex of his brows. It was such a natural characteristic. "There, now, luv," he said. "Easy as can be. Jus' gotta develop your own rhythm. Want a lil help across? Might take some time."

Buffy laughed in spite of herself. "Dear God," she replied, shaking her head. "I really, really hope that dance number was some residual thing from Sweet that you never got over."

He scoffed jokingly, pride hurt. "Dance number?"

"Oh, come on, Will."

"Let's see you do any better."

"Oohhh, a challenge." She dropped their bag full of sun-protector goodies to the floor beside her feet. "I love a good challenge. Prepare to be astonished. Even inspired."

"I'm all eyes, Slayer."

Granted, he had experience on her, but she was a quick learner. With several improvisational steps and more than one mocking routine, she managed to navigate herself to the table unscathed. When she looked up, he was grinning madly at her, and she realized she was smiling back. How easy it was to fall into old patterns. How easy it was to have fun...

A shudder of regret claimed her before the thought could progress. It was not right to have fun. Not after everything that had happened.

That notion alone threw her balance askew. Before she could make with the grand, overdone finale, she lost her footing and nearly stumbled into a stream of sunlight. William acted quicker than she could have foreseen, catching her with admirable swiftness and pulling her safely to the other side.

"See?" he said, trying without success to mask the concern in his voice. "Tha's what overconfidence does to you, pet."

"Yeah." Heaving a breath, Buffy pulled out of his arms and hugged herself tightly. "Overconfidence. I guess I don't have the rhythm down yet."

Their eyes met with mutual understanding.

"It'll come," William promised. "One of these days, you'll find your own to dance to."

The gravity abandoned her eyes, and releasing a long-winded sigh, the Slayer nodded, tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear. "It takes time," she acknowledged. "But that's what I got. Time." She met his gaze with the shadow of a smile tickling her mouth. "Someday, I'll get it down even better than you."

That was all it took. The casual atmosphere returned with much appreciation, and he grinned wickedly at her in silent challenge.

Then she saw the man behind him.

The voice was soft-spoken and metallic, reminiscent of the Master's in an eerie fashion. Its owner was an older, attractive man with piercing eyes. He looked to her at first, accusing, before frowning at the platinum strands in the other vampire's hair. "I do hope I am not interrupting anything highly illegal."

William's brows arched and he pivoted to face him. "Who the bloody hell are you?"

"Dr. Arthur Fell," the man replied. "Provisional curator of this establishment. I'm afraid to inform you that the library is not open for another hour or so. How did you manage to get in?"

The bleached blond produced a key with a decidedly baleful sneer. "Oh, the temp guy. Forgot about you. Well, you can pack your bags an' move the hell out. For now, anyway. I'm the reg 'round 'ere, 'kay, mate? Why don' you jus' sod off?"

"Will," Buffy said warningly. "Maybe if you asked nicely-"

Dr. Fell's eyes narrowed with aching skepticism. "William Ripper II, I presume?"

The vampire grumbled and shot her a look of strangled exasperation. "Tha's right," he replied temperately. "An' I'm gonna be needin' the joint 'ere for a few days. After 's all said an' done, I'll let you 'ave 'er back."

"Is the administration alerted to your return?"

"They will be soon as I phone 'em up. 'S all right, Doc. I can run the place." Demonstratively, he plucked a cigarette between his lips and earned a look of serious skepticism in return. "'F you want confirmation an' all that, call Ellie an' tell 'er I'm back."

"I don't suppose you have any credentials handy?" Dr. Fell's eyes ran him up and down. "You don't exactly strike me as the... curator type."

"Yeah? Hmmm. Innit that strange? Might mention how much I don' care." He huffed a long string of smoke onto the doctor's face. "Be a good lil boy an' run along, now. Shop's closed for the day."

A look of malicious irritation flashed across his face. This was not a man who liked being told what to do. "Do you mind horribly if I make a call first?"

William gestured broadly. "Be my guest."

"Care to point me in the right direction?" There was not one word in the question that did not insinuate challenge.

That was easy for him to say. The phone was in the office down the pathway of several sunbeams. Arching a brow, the vampire scoffed. "What kinda wanker do they got workin' 'ere 'f 'e doesn' even know where the bloody phone's at?" Generally, he waved in the indicated direction. "Want the number, too? 'S-"

"Thank you, Mr. Ripper. I believe I can take it from here."

Dr. Fell was gone the next instant, disappeared through a maze of books and card catalogs. When he was out of earshot, Buffy elbowed William sharply in the ribs. "Hostile much? What was up with that?"

He frowned as if only then catching himself, drawing a long puff of his cigarette. "Dunno," he replied, puzzled. "That chap jus' rubbed me the wrong way."

"And that has nothing to do with the fact that he's running your library?"

"Easy there, luv. Don' start that again."

When Dr. Fell returned, he verified that the management not only confirmed that the normal curator was an ill-mannered Cockney with a smoking problem, but that they were positively ecstatic to have him home.

The look on his face was not a happy one. "I will be stepping out of your way, then," he said. "I believe you will find the curator's apartment is as you left it. At the administration's request, I acquired living quarters a suitable distance away from the library. They were rather... adamant on your return."

"'Course." William finished off his cigarette and consigned it to the floor without looking away, smothering it with the toe of his boot.

Dr. Fell's eyes narrowed even further in scrutiny. "Such charm," he drawled. "I can see why they would be hesitant to let you go."

"What can I say? I'm a keeper. Run along then."

The library was quiet within minutes. He performed the hopscotch routine across the foyer once more to lock the door behind the doctor, and was back in seconds, no longer trying to impress anyone. Through it all, William avoided Buffy's accusatory gaze. "Problem with some poofs," he said, reaching for another cigarette. "Like that prat. 'E 'ad absolutely no rhythm whatever."

"Yes. I'm sure the lack of rhythm was his problem."

"Oh lay off it, pet. I jus' wanted the place to myself. Might as well enjoy wha's 'ere while I can, right?"

At that, she sighed and rolled her eyes. "Spike, listen-"

"No... bah. I'm such a ponce. I din't mean it like that. Not at all." He held up a hand. "Let's head upstairs for the grand tour, eh? 'S got nice digs."

The upper levels of the curator's suite looked relatively unchanged in style. Buffy nearly felt she had stepped through a time transport - everything was of old age and a rustic elegance; something she would never have expected of either William or his demon counterpart. A large dining table greeted the entryway, set with guest books, floral arrangements, and two candelabras. To the left stretched another room, evidently used for storage. The right curved into an immodest though small staircase that led to the upstairs. For an apartment, it was gracious in size but somehow remained unpretentious. There were three housing rooms: a master chamber, a guest room, and the lavatory.

"Looks bigger than it is," William said, gauging her wide-eyed amazement. "There's a big room, but I don' stay in there. Well, maybe once or twice, but it wasn' my style. You can 'ave it 'f you want it, pet. The other is small an'... well, doesn' really match the rest of the joint."

"You stay in there?" she repeated softly, tearing her gaze away from the grandiose atmosphere, somewhat dazed. It completely baffled her that he had lived here comfortably for three, nearly four years. She felt she would break something with every turn.

"Yeh. Like I said, 's not much, but-"

"I'll stay wherever you stay," Buffy decided with finality. "I don't sleep well in... unfamiliar places."

He smiled grimly. "Whatever you want." There was a brief, slightly awkward silence. "You want to change, luv? Sleep a lil? 'S been a long day... night."

"Until tonight, yeah. I'd like to see the town."

"'Course."

The room he inhabited was - without a doubt - smaller and the most out of place in the entire establishment. The walls were a creamy off-white, and the bed, though moderate, was not nearly as grand. However, his conclusions were correct. It was indeed homier, and though a month had passed, the air still smelled of cigarettes and liquor: the full element that constructed him into Spike.

She rested, but he didn't. Couldn't. There was so much to be done.

At one point, William retreated downstairs once more and opened the library to the public. He buried himself in research and old text to keep occupied, but his wandering mind refused to settle. Terrible and continuous cases of premonition tackled his sensory, and try as he might, he could not expel the sensation from conscious.

An hour passed before the bell above the door announced a visitor. So far from the present, he didn't register another presence until a familiar shadow overcast his studies.

"So, William. See you couldn't stay away after all."

He looked up and grinned. "Oy there, Professor Hawkins. Din't 'ear you come in."

"Up to the usual?"

The vampire grinned and shrugged. "Researchin' the Big Bad, what else?"

"Ellie called. Said you were back."

"Oh right." William's eyes twinkled mischievously. "'Ad to get rid of the doc someway. Figure'd a call to the board would do it."

"You have no idea how much we've missed you around here." Hawkins paused thoughtfully. "Not that Fell wasn't an adequate replacement, of course. I believe you were told before you got the job that his records were flawless - almost too good to be true. He was very helpful to all local patrons, but never as popular. We've had several inquires, by phone and email, wondering where you had gone off to."

The smile on his face turned bittersweet. "I s'pose I should tell yeh that I'm only 'ere for a day or so. There's somethin' I gotta do for a friend of mine. It shouldn't take long, but I doubt... honestly, Professor, I doubt I'll be back after."

The previous note of manifest support faded in Hawkins's eyes, and his face fell to tired displacement. "Oh. I see. Any specific reason?"

Buffy's timing was impeccable. That very instant she chose to come down the main corridor, wearing his oversized bathrobe and looking very disheveled. "Will?" she asked sleepily. "I woke up and you weren't..." She stopped when she saw the stranger standing directly in one of the sunbeams. "Oh. Oh God. I didn't know you had opened up. I-"

"Don' worry, luv," the platinum blond excused. "This is Professor Hawkins. 'E's with the administration. Jus' came by to say 'ello an' what all. Professor, this is-"

"The reason you're leaving us, I presume?" Proficiently, he stepped forward and grasped her hand with cold warmth. "Hello. I don't mean to sound bitter. I'm sure-"

"Y'don' understand." William jumped up immediately, protective and fierce. "This is Buffy Summers, Professor. This is Meus Amor. She-"

The grim insipidness in his eyes expired without further provocation, replaced with instantaneous understanding. "Oh. I see. My mistake." His grip on her hand tightened. "It's a real pleasure to meet you, Ms. Summers. Will always told us the inspiration for that poem was a real beauty, but I see his way with words - for once - simply did not do justice." He frowned then and glanced to the peroxide vampire. "I didn't realize it was this cold in here. Is the-"

"She's like me," William explained softly. "That thing that Ri... Giles an' I were workin' on... it went wonky, as things tend to do."

"He knows you're a vampire?" Buffy questioned skeptically.

"'S actually how I got the job, luv." He grinned. "Bloody well almost gave Ripper a heart attack. We 'ad to meet upstairs in the attic an'-"

"Quite an amusing tale," Hawkins agreed with a jovial laugh. "He scared half of the committee, but after a couple weeks, it was clear we had picked the right man for the job. He got along with everyone and was extremely well liked among the college students. The young ladies, I seem to remember-"

At that, William adopted a sheepish visage. "Y'don' 'ave to mention that, mate."

"Oh no," the Slayer countered. "Please do. Go on."

Without shame, the Professor complied. "The girls really fancied him, if I remember properly. Now, I won't lie to you, Ms. Summers... from what I know, he was very... umm... formal with the lot of them. Helpful but unresponsive." When the look on her face fell to dubious respite, he chuckled loudly and shook his head with every strain of conviction. "I'm being very serious. Will is one of the most invaluable curators this library has ever known."

"They let me smoke in 'ere an' everythin'," he confirmed.

"You say you'll only be here a day or so. Where do you plan on going?"

The two vampires exchanged a heady glance. "Bit of everywhere, 'm guessin'," William replied dismissively. "Got somethin' to take care of, then the world's ours for the takin'."

"Well, I won't pretend we won't miss you," Hawkins said regrettably. "But I wish you two the best. And you know, there's always a place here in case you decide-"

"'Preciate it, mate."

The remainder of the conversation was cordial but brief. When they were alone again, the atmosphere settled into thick silence. Buffy busied herself practicing a routine of sunbeam navigation, tiring eventually and stretching with the affects of cabin fever. The platinum blond remained immersed in a number of books, not looking for anything and consequentially finding nothing of interest.

"See, luv," he said when she completed her sixth round. "This is why most vamps sleep through the day."

"I'm on California time here," she countered. "Around two tonight, it'll really catch up with me."

"An' tha's when the real fun starts bein' 'ad," William observed. "You hungry? Got some pig's blood in the fridge upstairs, but 's prolly not much anymore."

An expression of pure distaste flashed through her eyes. "Mmm. Yummy. Month old blood. Sign me right up."

"There's a butch not too far from 'ere." He stealthily rose to his feet. "'F you-"

"I'm good." She didn't want to mention that the transition from human to pig blood was affecting her in the worst of senses. The respect she had for his endurance was on a steady increase. After feasting on people for over a century, he had been forced to adapt to controlled conditions and animal essence. On only a few days running, it was giving her a headache. "How much longer till sunset?"

"Not very."

"So this is how you spent your days with Giles?" Buffy paced across one of the tables, earning a sardonic glance. "You mentioned he had you on his timetable, and I rather doubt he's the type to sleep all day and work all night."

William grinned wryly. "Sometimes, pet, we worked 'round the clock. Took turns dozin' every half hour or so, 'f that. 'F we got on a roll, we din't usually fancy stoppin' to catch any shut-eye. Up till the last when 'e found that thing 'bout the Master... God, I don' think I slept a wink."

She nodded, pursing her lips and flopping cross-legged to the base of the table. "You had some life here," she observed. "I mean... demony you would hate it. I can't quite get passed that... but if I go on Giles's word, and from what that guy... what was his name...?"

"Hawkins."

"Right. It must've been wonderful."

At that, he shrugged, flipping his book closed and hopping to an opposite stance, whirling on the mahogany with a slight grin. "Not wonderful, luv," he replied softly. "I mean... sure. Respected an' all that. I do like the blokes who hired me. I liked workin' with Ripper on everythin'. Bein' treated like a friend an' not... well, I s'pose I 'aven't had any genuine friends in a while. Despite our time together, Dru an' I were never really friends. We shagged like rabbits, of course, an' enjoyed reapin' all kinds of wackiness, but we were never friends. Peaches... 'e annoyed me. At first 'e was all right... I mean in the early days. But after 'e came back... nothin' but a bloody pain." He fidgeted, and she knew immediately he was fighting the impulse to fish for another cigarette. Perhaps it was the London air that had him back smoking with such regularity. She didn't think she had seen him light up so actively since he came back into her life. "An' then the Scoobies. Nibblet an' I were close for a spell, but tha's 'bout it." It was amazing to hear him speak of that period of their acquaintance without reflecting a note of bitterness. "Then I came 'ere, an' everythin' changed."

"Do you regret it?"

"What?"

"Going to Africa. Getting your soul."

William arched his scarred eyebrow and forfeited the battle against will, reaching for his cigarettes. "Tha's a bloody stupid question."

"Yeah. And so was your asking me back home if I loved you. Answer me."

He had to give her that. An obvious inquiry deserved an obvious answer. Releasing a breath of concession, he smiled and shook his head. "No, luv. Wouldn't take it back for the world. I mean, sure, sometimes what I've done catches up with me. Sometimes it hurts so much I..." He trailed off briefly, lost in a sea of collection. When he found his wording, all sense of plausible remorse had driven out of his voice. "But look at what all's 'appened as a result. I mean, I got a right wicked job for a couple years. Got Ripper not hatin' my guts. Got you sittin' 'ere, listenin' to me. Wantin' to listen to me. I-"

"Will you ever forgive yourself?"

William sighed. "For which?"

"What you... what I forgave you for."

There was a briefly cold - not harsh, but reflective silence. He puffed dependently on his fag, eyes lost in a sea of wonderment and inward rejection. "No," he replied at last. "Somethin' like that... forgivin' yourself 's somethin' you never really do, pet. I know... I know tha's not what you want to hear. But I can't, I can't imagine feelin' anythin' but the deepest-"

"I'm not concerned with that I want to hear, Will," Buffy rejoined resolutely. "I already know what I want, and I know that I'll never get it. Just be honest with me. You've never been anything but, even when the truth is at its ugliest."

He snickered. "You'd see right through me."

"Yeah. I would." The look they shared was a midpoint between doting and disdainful. A sort of complex familiarity that could not help but draw them together. "That's why I know I can count on you," she continued. "You're straight with me."

"Would be afraid to be anythin' but. You do 'ave a knack for makin' it difficult, pet."

The Slayer grinned tightly to herself and glanced down. "You will miss it here, won't you? Just a little?"

"A lil? Well... yeh. I'll reckon there'll be missin' every now an' then. But I know I got me the better end of the trade." The look in William's eyes was all the confirmation she would ever require; it did more than wipe away reservation - it assured her that regardless, he would be there. He would hold true to his word and do whatever it took to make her the happiest person on the face of the planet.

And for one blessed diminutive fraction in the whole theory of time continuum, that was all that mattered.

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