III

Buffy never ceased to be amazed at Angel’s headquarters. She knew it drove him crazy to be the head of such a large organization at times, and then he drove everyone else crazy, but he’d brought them all so far. Without the resources he had placed at Giles’ disposal, as the de facto head of the Council, they would never have gotten off the ground as quickly as they did. Not to mention all the help he’d given in finding and training the Slayers themselves. Suddenly she felt slightly guilty for not coming more often. Angel had been incredibly accomodating in letting her do pretty much whatever she wanted to do for the past eight, almost nine years. Oh well. She’d be in town the next few months anyway, maybe the entire year. Willow was planning on being in L.A. for that long as well, and Dawn had been right. It would be nice to be around some of the old gang full-time again.

She looked over at her younger sister, who was also looking around, impressed. They shared a smile, and then something caught Buffy’s eye. A man was walking through the lobby, not an unusual event, but he struck her as familiar. Frowning, she watched as another guy called to him and handed him a bill. “Looks like you were right about Man-U, Will,” he said. “They’re fielding a great team this year.”

The man he’d called William grinned in return, and made a disparaging remark about his friend’s choice of teams, resulting in a slap on the shoulder. And then he turned towards Buffy just enough so that she got a good look at his face. It was impossible, of course, but there he was. Even from across the lobby she could see that it was the same eyes, the same cheekbones, the same stride, even the blonde hair. She froze and then started after him as he made his way towards the elevators, turning angrily when someone grabbed her arm.

“Buffy.” Angel had her upper arm in a firm grip, and wasn’t letting go.

She tried shaking him off. “Look, Angel, I know it sounds crazy, but I just saw Spike. He was right there—” Buffy turned her head back in the direction William had gone, but turned back towards Angel when he didn’t let go. And when she saw his face, she knew. “You knew,” she whispered. “How long have you known?”

“Let’s go up to my office,” Angel replied softly. Dawn watched the entire scene with fascination and rapidly blossoming anger.

“That’s really Spike?” she asked, eyes flashing. “Spike is here, and you didn’t tell us?”

“Look,” Angel said, casting a glance around the bustling lobby. “I know you’re upset, and I promise I’ll let you yell at me all you want to, but in my office.”

Buffy wanted to say no. She wanted to make a scene out here, in public, where he couldn’t hide, and she was just mad enough to do it and damn the consequences. But she reminded herself that Angel was the head of a large, successful corporation, one that paid a number of her bills, and what that boiled down to was that she owed him. She owed him enough to stop the rant and follow him up to his office and listen to his rational arguments for why he never told her Spike was alive. “Fine,” she hissed, yanking her arm out of his grip. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Angel cursed silently as the elevator reached his floor. He knew he should have made William contact Buffy. Or, if nothing else, he should have told her himself. His plan had been to catch her in the lobby and let her know that the man she knew as William Smith had been Spike, but he’d been just a hair too late, and William had been just a little too early. Dammit.

“All right, Angel,” Buffy said, once the door had been closed behind her. “Spill.”

Angel barely managed to contain a flinch when he found the eyes of both Buffy and her sister on him. The wrath of the Summers was fierce. “First of all, the man you saw is William Smith, and he’s been working for me for about three years now.”

“The VP of personnel and special projects,” Buffy murmured. “I wondered about him when he first started, but—”

Angel shook his head. “Will’s human, Buffy, or at least he’s close enough. It seems he’s still got some left-over abilities from when he was a vampire, for instance he’s as good a fighter as Spike ever was, but other than that he’s completely human.” When Buffy might have interrupted, he held up a hand. “Just hear me out. He also has no memory of his life as Spike. What little he does know comes in dreams, and those are sketchy most of the time. He didn’t even remember me, Buf, and the only reason he’s here now is because I prevented him from becoming a midnight snack.”

Buffy’s anger dulled to a simmer. “But you told him that we were friends, right?” she asked. “I mean, he knew that there were people who would want to know that he was still alive.”

Angel shook his head. “William didn’t think you’d want to know. I think he thought it would be best if Spike remained dead, and I let him make the call.”

Buffy wanted to scream, and she could see from the look on Dawn’s face that her sister was equally frustrated. So maybe Spike—William—didn’t know her and didn’t remember her. Angel had known how she felt about the vampire, and still hadn’t contacted her. “I still think you should have contacted me when you found him, Angel. You would have wanted me to do the same for you if it had been one of your friends, like Gunn or Cordy.”

The big vampire winced visibly. Buffy had a really good point, and she was probably right. If it had been one of his friends, he would have been furious that he wasn’t contacted, but she didn’t really know William. And he told her that.

“You might be right, Angel,” Dawn said, from her position by his window. “But the way he died, there were a lot of things that didn’t get said. I would have liked…” she trailed off. “The point is that you knew and you didn’t tell us. Spike, or William, or whatever you call him, he doesn’t know us, so he couldn’t know.”

Angel nodded wearily, letting it go. They were right, he was right, there wasn’t a clear-cut answer in this particular situation. He was about to say something else when the intercom buzzed impatiently. “Yes?”

“Mr. Angel, I know you’re in a meeting, but Miss Carletti’s here with Ty. There was some emergency at his school and Mr. William is in a meeting in the White Room with strict instructions not to be disturbed.” Angel frowned. Meetings in the White Room were not something you disturbed unless you felt like it would be a good time to end your existence. And that meant he was the go-to guy.

“Send them in, Deb.” Buffy watched as a young woman, several years Dawn’s junior, came into the room leading a little boy of about eight.

The boy didn’t even pause coming into the office, shooting straight towards Angel’s arms. Much to Buffy and Dawn’s surprise, the vampire didn’t even blink, just grabbed him and held on tight. “Hey, I got you now, little man,” he murmured. Angel looked up at the woman. “Bad one, Emmie?”

“Bad enough,” she said, her face grim. Her dark hair was cut short, and dyed black with red tips. She had several earrings in each ear, and there was both a hardness and a softness to her that Buffy found reminiscent of Faith. “School called me because he’d passed out at recess. They thought maybe he was sick. I passed it off as one of his seizures.”

Angel nodded in reply, all the while stroking the boy’s back. “All right. I want you to notify Wes. Tell him I need him here ASAP. He’s probably the best one at asking the right questions. Let Gunn and Fred know too, since this is probably big. Leave a message for William so he knows to come here as soon as his meeting’s over, and put Lorne on stand-by. Ty can stay with him for a while.”

Emmie blinked several times. “You mean—”

“You’re coming with us,” Angel said, a smile tugging at his lips. “We’ll need all the fire-power we can get on this one, I think. Buffy,” he turned to the other Slayer. “You want to kick some ass?”

“When do I not?” she replied flippantly, looking at him with a huge question in her eyes.

He smiled grimly. “Sorry. Buffy, Dawn, this is Mary Elizabeth Carletti, also known as Emmie. She’s Ty’s nanny and a Slayer.” He looked down at the boy’s dark hair. “And this guy is Ty. William’s son. Emmie, Ty, this is Buffy Summers. The Slayer.”

Buffy was still trying to process the fact that Spike—William—had a son when the man himself strode into the room. Fred, Gunn, and Wesley had all showed up about thirty minutes earlier, and they were all trying to decipher what Ty had told them he’d seen. Buffy had to admire the kid. The stuff that he was describing probably would have shocked her to tears if she’d been eight, but after about five minutes in Angel’s arms, he’d recovered sufficiently to give a good description.

Angel hadn’t had any time at all to tell her exactly how Spike had managed to come by a son, but she wasn’t sure he was biological. There was little resemblance, except for Ty’s startling blue eyes, though she supposed it was possible he looked like his mother. In any case, she was reserving judgment. At first glance, however, she did like Emmie. The girl was sharp, but gentle with the boy, and willing to sit back and listen to what was going on.

When William entered the room, Ty scrambled down from Angel’s lap and went directly for his father, even as Buffy stood silently. She had no idea what, if anything she should say, so she waited as the man that had been Spike greeted his son. “Hey, little man,” he said softly. “You okay?”

Ty raised his chin and nodded, a gesture that reminded Buffy of Spike as they headed into battle with Glory, with the First. “Yeah.”

“Good boy,” William said, pulling his son in for another hug. And then he saw Buffy. For an instant, the Slayer saw both recognition and raw desire there, and it seemed that time was literally slipping away. The last time she’d seen that look on his face was when she’d come back from the dead, and he’d seen her on the stairs. Then the look was gone, replaced by mild interest, the look you would give an old acquaintance you hadn’t seen for a while. “Buffy.”

“I see you remember the Slayer, Will,” Angel said. “And her sister Dawn?”

“Of course,” he said, reaching out to shake both their hands, his son still firmly planted at his side. “It’s good to see both of you here. I have a feeling we can use all the help we can get on this one.”

“Good,” Angel said, throwing a cautioning look at Buffy when it looked as though she might say something else. ‘Spike’s dead,’ his eyes seemed to say. ‘Get used to it.’ “Then let’s get started.”

Buffy had watched him all evening long, the way he moved, the way he fought, the way he spoke. He still wore the same dark colors he had in the past, but the pants were no longer ragged black jeans, and his shirt was blue silk. The way he fought was the same; he moved with the same grace, the same flash that he always had, giving Angel a hard time from his spot across the room, stepping in to help Emmie when she got herself into a sticky situation.

What wasn’t the same was the way his eyes slid right past her, the way he seemed to purposely avoid her. It made Buffy want to cry, because it was that avoidance that told her Angel had been right. Spike really was dead.

Dawn had chosen to stay behind with Lorne and Ty. Though her sister could fight with the best of them, she felt uncomfortable going into a fight with people she didn’t know well. What’s more, Buffy could see from her eyes that William’s presence made her uncomfortable; he was so like, and yet so not-like their dead vampire. And so now Buffy sat in the back of Wesley’s SUV with Emmie, with William in the front passenger seat. She couldn’t help but feel she was in a car full of strangers.

“Why on earth did you dye your hair, Will?” Wes asked from his position from behind the wheel. They had been lucky no one had gotten hurt. Some idiot of a warlock had decided to open a dimensional porthole and release a number of demons, and there had already been a few big ones waiting by the time they reached the point of disturbance.

Buffy’s ears pricked up in the back seat. The only thing that seemed to have remained the same was William’s bleached blonde hair, even though it was shaggier than it had been in the past, and not quite as slicked back.

He shrugged, and she could tell he was uncomfortable from where she sat. “It was a bet.”

Emmie piped up from behind him. “You know how Ty wasn’t real excited about getting his schoolwork done last quarter?” she asked. When Wes nodded, she continued. “Will and I promised that if he got all his assignments done, with no incompletes, and he read 50 books of a certain length over the summer, we would dye our hair. He got to pick my color, and I got to pick Will’s. That was the deal.”

“I didn’t think he’d actually do it,” William admitted, a certain rueful amusement in his tone. “But he kept us busy going to the library, and the next thing I know he’s reminding us of our deal.”

“Well, it seems to have taken,” Wesley said, barely hiding a smirk. “Ty was asking me the other day if I would start teaching him Latin.”

William shook his head. “Well, ‘m bloody glad he decided he wanted to know a few more things than the right move in one of his sodding games. Took me ages to get him off of that thing last year.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that this time around,” Emmie said. “He’s pretty much sold on the learning thing. With any luck, you can ship him off to Oxford when he’s ready for college.”

“Cambridge,” both men said at once, and shared a smile. To say that Buffy felt left out would have been an understatement. She knew that Angel had his own friends here in L.A., and she’d expected to feel a little out of place with them. But to run across Spike, who’d been as close as her own shadow, one of the few people she’d trusted implicitly in those last days, and have him fit in where she did not. It was worse. Infinitely worse.

Especially since he wouldn’t even meet her eyes in the rearview mirror.

IV

Erin lay with her back against him, her breath coming in hitches and spasms. There wasn’t a point to her being in the hospital at this point; it was easier on the both of them if she could be at home, especially since they wouldn’t allow children into the ICU. William’s gentle fingers stroked her hair, and she felt herself melting into him. Almost five years of marriage, and she still wanted him. But it was an impotent sort of wanting these days; it had been over a year since she’d felt well enough to do much, and he’d still stuck by her.

“How’s Ty?” she whispered. Her laboring heart was warning her that she didn’t have much time.

“Asleep,” William replied, equally softly. “He was happy you were feeling well enough to talk for a while earlier.”

She smiled. “I want you to promise me something, William.”

“Anything, Erin-luv. You know that.”

She closed her eyes against the reproach in his tone, knowing that he would gladly switch places with her if he could, if it were even possible. And she, in her selfishness, was just as glad he couldn’t, because she didn’t think she could have borne another loss. “I want you to be happy.”

“Erin—”

“No, William,” she replied, her tone as strong as she could make it. “Someday you’ll meet someone else, and I don’t want you to hesitate to be happy because of me.”

He shut his eyes, holding back the tears, knowing she was slipping from him. She wouldn’t be saying these things if the end weren’t very near. “I promise, luv. I’ll try.”

She felt her breath shudder and hitch. “Come around where I can see you.” He shifted underneath her, and moved so that she lay against the pillows he’d stacked there, perching himself on the side of the bed. “You’ll look after Ty.”

“Of course,” he said. “He’s mine.”

“He has your eyes,” she agreed. “And he’s more yours than mine.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she gave a weak shake of her head. “I often thank God for sending you to me that night,” she whispered. “You came just when I needed you, and I can’t help but wonder what might have happened if you hadn’t been there. It wasn’t coincidence, William.”

“No,” he breathed.

“You’ll tell him that I’ve gone to be with God,” she instructed. “I know you don’t believe it—”

“I don’t not believe it,” he corrected. “Hard to say, really. Erin, I’ll tell him. I’ll take care of him. You know it.”

“I know it.” Her breath was harder to catch now, and she couldn’t help but think of the million other things she wanted to tell him, and that she wouldn’t get to say any of it. “I can’t hold on, William,” she gasped. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he said, grasping her hand tightly. Oh, how he didn’t want to let her go. He wanted to beg her to stay with him, but he loved her too much. For weeks now, she had been fighting for every breath, and now he wanted the battle to be over for her, for himself. He couldn’t stand to see her suffer any longer. “You go when you have to, luv. I’ll be here.”

She drew in a deep breath. “William, I love you,” she cried. And then her eyes opened wide at something he could not see. “Oh,” she sighed reverently. It was her last breath. William laid his head down on the bed and sobbed until the sun rose.

V

“Sod this!” William snarled angrily. “We’re not getting anywhere at all.”

Angel and Emmie looked at one another, their eyebrows raised. They had been going over Slayer placements for the last hour, with William getting noticeably more irritable as time went on. “Will, we have to get this done. Look, maybe we should call Buffy in on this. She’s had contact with most of the known Slayers—”

“Forget it,” he said, not at all appeased. “Just bloody well forget it. We’re not getting anywhere and we’re not going to. This is a waste of time.”

“Will, don’t you think—” Emmie began hesitantly.

“No, I don’t,” he interrupted rudely. “I’m out of here.”

They watched him go, and when the door slammed shut behind him, Angel turned and looked at the woman. “Do you have any idea what that was about?”

She sighed. Hesitated. “He’s been dreaming,” she said softly. When the vampire’s forehead creased in a puzzled frown, she continued. “Ty called me the other day at 2 in the morning. Will was moaning in his sleep, and he couldn’t wake him up. I finally had to dig out the smelling salts to pull him out of it.”

“Do you know what he’s been dreaming of?” Angel asked.

“I’ll give you three guesses and the first two don’t count,” she said wryly. “I think he’d feel better if he would at least talk to her, but…”

“But William won’t even let Buffy within ten feet, and it’s driving everyone nuts,” he finished, rolling his eyes in exasperation. Buffy was miserable and hiding it badly, William was on edge, and no one was very happy, especially if they were in the same room with either of them. “Well, I think I will ask her to help with these assignments. Some of the girls don’t have any desire to follow the traditional calling, but that doesn’t mean they don’t need to know what’s going on.”

Emmie nodded. “Yeah. Look, I’d better go see to Will. Make sure he’s calming down.” She gave him a wistful look. “Are you sure we can’t just lock them in a room together until they hash things out?”

“Don’t tempt me,” he replied with a smile, his eyes following her admiringly until she was out of the room. That was a girl with some fine legs.

Buffy came in about ten minutes later. “Hey, Angel. I thought William was meeting with you now.”

“He bailed,” Angel said shortly. “I wanted to ask you to help me with some Slayer assignments. I just got word from Giles that there’s a few new hot-spots that are going to need some watching.”

Buffy nodded. “Sure. I didn’t have any plans for this afternoon.” Whereas a few years ago that might have been said with a great deal of sarcasm, at this point she was perfectly serious. She really hadn’t had any other plans.

“Great.” Angel hesitated briefly. “I was wondering if I could ask you a couple favors.”

Buffy’s eyebrows went up. “From the look on your face, this could result in much badness,” she commented.

“No.” His lips twitched at her distinctive phrasing. “I wanted you to start training Emmie. As the longest living Slayer on record, you could be invaluable to her. And while her job is fairly tame, if it ever gets dangerous—”

“Hers isn’t the only life on the line,” Buffy said, understanding completely. As a bodyguard, Emmie had a duty to be in the best possible condition. “Done. What’s favor number two?”

“Well, that one’s a little more awkward,” he admitted. “There’s a charity ball in two weeks that I need to attend. And I need a date.”

“And I’m it?” Her words were dripping with sarcasm.

He met her eyes squarely. “Look, Buffy, we haven’t always been friends, but I think we are now.” Angel waited for her nod before continuing. “I know this could be awkward, but there isn’t anyone else I’d be comfortable asking to go with me, and I’d like you to. As friends, I mean.”

Buffy nodded. It wasn’t what she wanted. What she really wanted was apparently out of her grasp, namely that William would come to his frigging senses and get his memories back. It seemed she’d have to settle for Angel’s friendship and accepting that her Spike was well and truly gone, never to return. She hadn’t even realized until now that she’d harbored the tiniest grain of hope that he would come back. “All right,” she said slowly. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to dance.”

VI

Buffy’s roundhouse sent Emmie flying into the padded wall of the training room. “Good,” she said, meaning it. “That was a good defense.” She watched as the girl picked herself up off the floor, making certain that she hadn’t been injured. “I think that’s enough for the day.”

Emmie smiled gratefully, wiping her face off with a towel. “Good, because I’m starving. You want to grab lunch somewhere? I know a good place close by.”

Buffy’s first impulse was to say no, to play up the ‘I’m the Slayer and you’re a puny nobody.’ If she were completely honest with herself, she knew that she didn’t want to like Emmie, mainly because she got to spend hours with William, who was still doing his best to avoid her. In truth, there was nothing to dislike about the girl. She was a sharp fighter, dedicated to her work, and had a wicked sense of humor. Buffy saw the dawning disappointment on the girl’s face and made a quick decision to squelch her petty jealousy. She was bigger than that. (Or, at least she wanted to be.)

“I’d love to.”

Buffy took an appreciative look at the small deli. “This is a great place,” she said. “I never would have known it was here.”

“Not if you relied on the guys,” was Emmie’s amused reply. “They’re more into the burgers and red meat, and you know how Angel is about people-food. I come here with Fred sometimes though.”

The other Slayer smiled. Emmie definitely reminded her of Faith, or what Faith might have been if she hadn’t gone over to the dark side. She still felt a pang of sadness, remembering the other woman’s death a few years ago. She and Robin had died in the same fight, going at it back-to-back. This girl had the same dark looks and lean musculature, but her hair was cut short and had been tipped with red. She had several mismatched earrings in each ear, and was wearing her trade-mark baggy pants and heavy boots with a tight t-shirt. Emmie definitely fit the stereotype of a punk, and she would have fit right in with Spike in the old days, Buffy suddenly realized. And with a suddenness that startled her, she wanted to know whatever she could about this girl, remembering the Slayers that had died in the cavern, some of whose names she hadn’t even known. “So, where are you from?”

Emmie looked up, startled by the question. “Angel didn’t say anything to you?”

Buffy shrugged. “He asked me to train you. Beyond that, I don’t know much. Why?”

“I grew up here, on the streets mostly,” she admitted. Emmie looked down at her salad. “When I tell people that, they usually give me this really pitying look, you know? I don’t talk about it much.”

Buffy felt a stab of sympathy for her, this girl who was just now discovering what it meant to be a Slayer and a woman, if her own memories of being 21 served. On the other side of things, she could relate. “I got that a lot after my mom died. I was about your age.”

Emmie gave her a grateful look. “Yeah, well, it’s not a big secret, I guess. My dad took off when I was a baby, and my mom remarried when I was like, three, so he was the guy I thought of as my dad. When I was 12 he started to, you know, notice me. I don’t know if mom knew about it or not, but I guess I’m still pissed that she didn’t stop him.” There was a satisfied smile on her face. “I was 13 when I got Called. From what Will and Angel have said, that’s probably when you activated all the Slayers. I broke his nose and tossed him out the door when he tried it with me that afternoon. And then I kicked him in the balls when I left for good. Never went back.”

There was nothing Buffy could think of to say to that. Somewhere inside, however, she realized yet again that activating all the Potentials had had ripple effects across the globe, some good, some bad. Here was an instance of it working out. “What happened then?”

“I lived on the streets till I was 18. Killed my first vamp when I was 15. Things started getting rough, and I knew I’d end up turning tricks or worse if I stayed out there. I’d heard about Wolfram & Hart and what they did, and I went to see William for a job.” Emmie smiled softly. “He was the first decent guy I ever met, you know?”

Buffy felt a pang of jealousy and stuffed it down. “You love him.”

“Who? William?” Emmie asked. “Yeah, I mean, he’s been like family to me. I can’t imagine what would have happened to me if it weren’t for him.” Then understanding dawned as she saw the look on the older woman’s face. “You’re in love with him.”

“No!” Buffy looked panicked. “No, I mean, we’ve hardly said two words to each other.” Then, giving into Emmie’s implacable look, replied, “I’m in love with Spike. Apparently that’s not the same thing.”

The girl shook her head. “I can’t say, Buffy, since I didn’t know Spike, and I know a lot of people say that, but I don’t believe it. I’ve heard the stories about how he went and sacrificed himself to save the world, and I don’t believe someone who was really evil could do something like that.”

“He wasn’t really evil,” Buffy said softly. “Even before he got his soul, he loved me and Dawn. Spike almost died protecting us.”

Emmie was silent, digesting what Buffy had just told her. She didn’t want to see William hurt, but at the same time she knew he was miserable. And he didn’t know that Buffy loved Spike. That was big news. “He doesn’t remember getting his soul,” Emmie finally said. “What he does remember pretty much centers around the bad stuff, I think, even though he doesn’t talk about it.”

Buffy frowned, and Emmie continued. “In fact, from what I understand Will thinks you hated him, and from the way he talks, he figures you have every right to.”

The Slayer understood. She and Spike had never been gentle with one another, not until that last year, and even then it had only been at the very end that they had finally come to a real understanding. It was no wonder William had been avoiding her like the plague. “What am I going to do?” she asked.

Emmie frowned. “Look, Buffy, Will’s kind of gun-shy when it comes to women. He hasn’t dated in all the time I’ve known him, and that’s been about three years. Some of it is probably because of Erin and her death. But I think some of it is from before.” She paused. “It’s just a theory, but I think there are some things that happen to us that scar our souls so deeply that it effects us forever. What happened to Spike, where it concerned rejection, I think it still effects Will. Does that make any sense to you?”

Buffy nodded. “Yeah, actually that makes perfect sense.” She sighed. “So you think I’m stuck?”

“Did I say that?” Emmie asked. “I just think you’re going to have to be sneaky about it, that’s all. In fact, you’re going to have to ambush him.”

Buffy was skeptical. “Ambush? I’ve already tried that, and he just keeps running away.”

Emmie shook her head. “No, I mean a serious, all-out frontal assault. Look, Angel asked you to go to the charity ball on Friday, right?”

“Sure, but what does that have to do with anything?” she asked, taking another bite of her salad.

Emmie grinned. “William asked me to go with him, so I think we should switch dates.” When Buffy didn’t look convinced, she continued persuasively. “Both of them have to go, so if we switch at the last minute, they’ll have to live with it. Sure, they might be upset, but if both of them think we’re doing it for a good cause, they’ll get over it.”

Buffy was beginning to be interested. “And what good cause would that be?”

“Your crush on Will. Angel knows, so I’ll tell him I found out about it and offered to switch places with you.” The younger woman grinned mischieviously.

Buffy’s eyes narrowed as she picked up the flaw in her plan. “What am I supposed to tell William?” And it was her turn for the lightbulb to turn on. She’d noticed that Emmie got slightly doe-eyed around Angel, but hadn’t thought much of it until right now since the younger Slayer had still kept up the smart-ass teasing. “You’re in love with Angel.”

“I’ve got a crush on him,” Emmie corrected her softly. “And I know the difference. And it’s stupid, because even if he noticed me like that, we couldn’t do anything about it. It’s not like I don’t know the stories.” She hesitated, wondering if she could really trust Buffy with the truth, a truth she hadn’t even confessed to Will. “I never got a prom, or anything like that. I just want a night…” She trailed off, unable to completely explain, but Buffy knew.

“I know.” She met Emmie’s eyes and smiled. “Trust me, I know. So, I take it William knows?” At the girl’s nod, Buffy smiled. “Then I tell William that I found out you have a crush on Angel and offered to switch places. And both of them think we’re being kind to the other.”

“Which we are,” Emmie said, smiling. “They just don’t know we’re being kind to ourselves as well.”

“Speaking of which,” Buffy winced. “I have to look for a dress now. As long as it was Angel, I didn’t have to do any serious dress shopping, but now…”

“Same here,” Emmie groaned. “And I have to pick Ty up in a little over an hour. There’s no way I’m going to have time to go shopping in between now and then.”

“Could we bring him with us?” Buffy asked, noting Emmie’s surprised look. “I mean, there’d be two of us to watch him, and I wouldn’t mind a second opinion.”

Emmie nodded slowly and then smiled. “I think Ty could be persuaded. As long as you aren’t against a little bribery.”

“Are you kidding?” And Buffy felt the first faint stirrings of hope as well as excitement. “I’m an expert at judicious bribery.”

VII

Ty was slurping his promised Orange Julius, as well as looking forward to dinner at McDonald’s, as he and Buffy waited to see the dresses Emmie was trying on. Along with the bribes, Buffy had managed to get him to agree almost graciously to the shopping trip by pointing out that they would need a man’s opinion, and he was elected. While he was fully aware of the fact that she was manipulating him, that didn’t change the fact that one of his childhood heroes wanted him to come along. It made the whole shopping trip very cool.

Emmie had refused to leave him unattended in the store, even with both of them within earshot, so Buffy was waiting with him while Emmie tried on her choices, and then they’d switch places. “Okay, what do you think?” the younger Slayer asked as she came out in dress number three.

“That’s the one,” Buffy said immediately, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s incredible.”

Ty nodded sagely. “You look really pretty in that one, Emmie.” The dress itself was a deep crimson color, with a loose neck and low-cut back that hugged every curve of her body. The slit up the leg left both everything and nothing to the imagination, and the color matched the red tips in her hair.

She smiled in return. “I thought so. I love it. Give me a second, Buffy, and then it’s your turn.”

Buffy had a much harder time. By the sixth dress, she was beginning to get frustrated. They didn’t fit, or they weren’t the right color, or it was the color of the dress she wore to prom, or it was too much like the dress that she’d worn when she’d (briefly) died at the hands of the Master. Nothing seemed to be working. “I don’t know,” she finally sighed, frustrated. “Maybe I should go somewhere else on a different day. This is getting old, and I know Ty’s probably bored out of his mind.” She gave the boy a sympathetic smile.

“It’s okay,” he said, hating to see his hero upset. “I don’t mind waiting.”

“How many more do you have in there with you, Buffy?” Emmie asked.

She shrugged. “Two more.”

“So try on the other two,” the girl suggested. “If neither of those work, we can go again tomorrow.” Emmie gave her an evil grin. “In fact, we could make Wes crazy by skipping training in order to go shopping.”

Buffy smiled in reply and went back into the dressing room. When she re-emerged, Emmie’s eyes widened, and Ty’s jaw dropped dramatically. “That’s it, Buffy,” Emmie breathed. Buffy’s dress was also form-fitting, but in a green so dark as to be almost black, with something embedded in the fabric to make it shimmer. It was low-cut enough to show an appetizing amount of cleavage and bare in the back except for criss-crossing strips of fabric. And the slit up the leg would be enough to jump-start a rock’s imagination.

“That’ll make Dad’s eyes pop,” Ty said matter-of-factly.

Both women stared at him. “What are you talking about, kiddo?” Emmie asked. “You know I’m going with your dad.”

“Please,” he replied. “You’re going with Uncle Angel.”

“And how do you know that?” Buffy demanded.

He gave her a smirk that reminded her so much of Spike, it was scary. “I’m psychic, remember?” he asked. And then his grin broadened. “He fancies you, y’know.”

“How do you know that?” Buffy asked, suddenly realizing that she had a fount of information on the new Spike sitting right in front of her.

“He dreams about you, and he talks in his sleep,” Ty said. “And he’s told me stories about you since I was born, practically.”

“What kind of stories?” Buffy asked, suspicious.

The boy hesitated. “I don’t know if I should talk about it. It’s kind of private.”

“Name your price.”

Ty’s face lit up, and Buffy could see that she’d been manipulated by a master. “Two—no, three stories about my dad from before, when you knew him.”

The Slayer hesitated, well aware that William may not like his son hearing about his days as Spike, and also knowing that few of those adventures were G-rated. “All right,” she agreed. “You’re on.”

Emmie groaned. “I should have asked for stories. I’ll bet some of those are even better than a date with Angel.”

Later that night, when William went to pick his son up from Emmie’s, he was somewhat disconcerted to find that Buffy was just leaving. And for some strange reason, Emmie kept looking at him thoughtfully and murmuring something about a black leather coat. There was just no understanding women at times.

VIII

William knocked on the heavy wooden door, feeling acutely uncomfortable. He couldn’t help but sense that this wasn’t the place for him, and yet he wasn’t sure why exactly. The man who answered was his own height and balding, dressed in black with the requisite clerical collar. “You must be William,” he said, shaking hands warmly. “Please come in. I have someone on the phone right now, but I’ll be with you in a moment.” Father Joseph Leary showed him into a comfortable study and then quickly ducked out again.

Here the feeling of being uncomfortable was still present, though not as strong. He wondered again what he was doing here, except that Erin had encouraged him to talk to Father Joe, as she called him. Who better than a priest to talk about sin and redemption, right? And he’d been her parish priest since she was a teen, and she trusted him. William wasn’t so certain, but he knew he needed to speak to someone, and he wasn’t sure that Erin was the right one, as biased as she was in his favor.

He wandered over to the wall, where a heavy wooden cross hung, the grain looking warm and mellow in the light from the dim lamps and the fireplace. Hesitantly, he reached out and touched it, half-expecting a reaction of some kind. But as he looked down at his unmarked fingers, he knew that it was only a body-memory, left over from a past he couldn’t remember.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” came the deep voice behind him. “A friend sent it to me from where he was stationed in Mexico. The people in his village have made wood carving their specialty.”

William turned slowly to face the priest. “I don’t belong here,” he confessed.

Father Joe regarded the younger man with deep compassion, Erin having told him a little of the story. “This is a house dedicated to God, son. There is no one who doesn’t belong here.”

He swallowed hard. “Has Erin told you anything?”

Father Joe waved him to one of the seats in front of the fire, the study walls reflecting the flickering light. “She’s told me a little, enough to understand why you’re here I think.” The priest looked at William, and then said bluntly. “You don’t think you’re a good man.”

“How can I be?” William asked. “Father, I have these dreams, and even if they aren’t real, if I didn’t do those things I dreamed of, how can a good man dream horrors?”

“They say evil men do the things that good men only dream,” Father Joe returned gently. “I know what you dream, William. Erin has told me a little, and she told me how you met. Do you believe you were a vampire at one point in time?”

The matter-of-fact way the priest said it caused William’s jaw to drop, and he chuckled. “There are those within the Church who believe evil exists only in the minds of men and in social injustice,” he admitted. “But there are those of us who know better.”

“I don’t know,” William said. “The dreams are so vivid, but I can hardly believe…”

Father Joe spoke quietly. “I am not you, William. Nor can I pretend to know what you are going through, having lost your identity. But I know this—Erin has been happier this last year since you have come into her life than I have ever seen her in the past. Knowing Erin, I know that only a good man could truly make her happy.

“Whatever you were, forget about it, William. You have been given a second chance, whatever your previous circumstances. Be thankful, and do your best. That is all anyone, even God, can ask of us.”

“Is atonement possible?” William asked, his voice troubled and plaintive.

“No,” Father Joe said softly. “Not by us. What we have done, cannot be undone, no matter how much we might wish it so. But redemption—redemption is always possible, as is forgiveness. Remember that, William.”

And William remembered until his dying day.

IX

Had she known it was the last dream, she would never have woken up. Buffy had been in L.A. a week, and William hadn’t said two words to her. The only thing that kept her going was dreaming of Spike. She’d had a particularly good one just before moving. This one was the first since she’d come to the city.

“Buffy,” he whispered into her hair. They lay on the beach, she in his arms, a light breeze stirring the air and the moon shining on the water.

“Please don’t go,” she begged. “I can’t stand to have you gone.”

“I told you, you have to find me,” he reminded her gently.

She shook her head almost violently, starting up from her position against his chest. “I did find you, and you won’t talk to me.” She paused, realizing it didn’t make much sense, but he smiled at her.

“I’m only truly myself here, luv,” he said. “I’m only whole in dreams, because I only remember in dreams. Just be patient, pet. It’ll take time.”

Buffy pouted. “I don’t want it to take time. I want you now.” And she kissed him hard to show him how much.

“Patience, luv,” he reminded her. “One of these days I’ll figure it out. And you’ll be the one that helps me.” He kissed her back, the moon gleaming white-gold on his hair. “You have to find me, Buffy.”

And when she woke, she wept for fear she’d lost him forever.

X

Buffy was more nervous before this date than she’d ever been in the past. Perhaps it was because her feelings for Spike/William were so strong, and she had no idea how he felt, not really. She had to wonder if this was how Spike had felt that night he’d taken her on the stakeout, the “date” that had ended so badly. If she had known then what she knew at this moment, standing before his apartment door, she wouldn’t have treated him quite as badly. But then, hindsight was always 20/20, and she’d had no idea that his feelings were quite so real, or quite so strong. It took the grave, and a soul freely sought, and a cavern deep below the earth to teach her those hard lessons.

Ty opened the door at her knock, giving her a broad grin and an enthusiastic thumbs-up. She and the boy were solid friends since the evening spent story-telling, and she thought it kind of funny that a little kid would think of her as a hero. She was more used to people not knowing about her existence at all. “You look awesome,” he said.

“Thanks, Ty,” she replied, following him inside, satisfying her curiosity as to the type of place William would be living in. In some ways, it reminded her of Spike. There weren’t a lot of frills around the place, a few pictures on the walls, plain curtains on the windows. The couch and chairs were overstuffed and comfortable looking, however, and there were toys and books scattered around, giving it a homey air that the crypt had never quite attained. In spite of herself, she really wanted to see what the bedroom looked like.

“Is Emmie here?” William’s voice came from his bedroom. “I’ll be right out, pet. Just give me a second.”

Ty clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a giggle, and Buffy gave him a conspiratorial wink, pretending more confidence than she actually felt. A moment later, William came strolling out of the bedroom in a tux, his tie still hanging around his neck and his jacket hanging from one finger. “I can’t seem to get this bloody tie done up. Would you mind—” He froze as he realized that he was looking at Buffy and not his nanny. “B-Buffy? W-what are you doing here? Is something wrong? Did something happen to Angel?”

Amazing how his reticence vanished as soon as he thought he was getting ready for a fight, Buffy observed. Some things never changed. “No, nothing’s wrong, Sp—William. Emmie and I decided to switch dates this evening.”

Both his eyebrows went up, and he threw a quick glance at Ty before gesturing her into the kitchen. “What’s going on here, Slayer?” he asked, the familiar tone sending shivers down her spine. She wanted him, she realized. Right here, right now. Stifling her lust, she reminded herself that this was a delicate operation.

“Emmie and I were talking the other day, and she let it slip that she had a crush on Angel. I suggested that we switch dates, since I didn’t really care if I went with him or with someone else, and I knew she would appreciate it. We didn’t tell you because we didn’t know if you’d go along or if you’d tell him.”

William ran a frustrated hand through his hair. His evening had just gone from simple to complicated in about five seconds. Though, if he had to be honest with himself, he wasn’t entirely displeased with the developments. “Right then,” he murmured. His face broke out into a wide, slightly self-conscious grin. “I’d love to see the look on the poof’s face when Emmie shows up at his door.”

“So would I,” Buffy admitted candidly. She didn’t often get to see Angel look surprised, but it was usually priceless.

“Well, since you’re stuck with me for the evening, would you mind helping with my tie?” he asked, looking a little uncomfortable.

She smiled at him, and began the business of setting his tie to rights. “If it makes you feel any better, I think I got the better end of the deal,” she said, just loud enough for him to hear, and was rewarded by seeing his cheeks flush a faint pink.

~~~~~

Emmie didn’t think Angel would have too big a problem with the great switcheroo, as Ty had termed it. After all, it was just the other week that they had talked about locking Buffy and William in a room together. This was just a more civilized means of achieving the same end. Telling herself that was not settling the butterflies in her stomach, however.

She unlocked the door, using the key she’d purloined from William. There were sounds coming from his bedroom, and she sat quietly on the couch, waiting for him to emerge. “What the—” Emmie felt well-rewarded for her stealth by the surprise in his voice.

“Hey, Angel.”

His eyes narrowed. “Where’s Buffy?”

“Well, you know how we were saying it might be a good idea to lock them in a room together?” she asked, grinning mischieviously even as his eyes darkened with suspicion. “I found out Buffy still liked him, so I told her we should switch dates. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Angel’s lips twitched suspiciously. Being around an eight-year-old had softened him up quite a bit. “Let me guess. You didn’t tell William about this.”

“Naw,” her grin grew even wider. “And I wish I’d remembered to have Ty snap a picture.”

The vampire shook his head, somewhat in awe of her deviousness. “Who’s watching him tonight?” he asked.

“Robbi. She was in from London for the month and said she’d be happy to,” Emmie replied, referring to another Slayer.

“She’s good,” Angel said, agreeing with her choice. Then he watched as she stood and he got the full effect of her gown, the rich red glowing against her skin, the fabric accentuating every curve. “You look incredible tonight, Mary Elizabeth,” he said softly, liking the way her face glowed when he complimented her.

“Thanks,” she said, a touch of shyness in her voice. “So you’re not too disappointed I’m the one that showed up then?”

“No.” His cool hand reached out to take hers in a gentlemanly gesture. “Not in the least.”

~~~~~

The car ride to the Plaza was quiet, neither Buffy nor William sure of what to say. Finally Buffy decided to break the silence. She’d learned the hard way that you didn’t always have all the time in the world, and she wasn’t at all certain that William wouldn’t go right back to not talking to her once the evening was over. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

He looked over at her, surprised at her bluntness. “No, I—” He stopped at the look on her face. “Somethin’ like that,” he admitted.

“Why?” she asked.

William gave her a look tinged with both annoyance and amusement. “You don’t pull your punches, do you, Slayer?”

His voice sent shivers down her spine. “Well, I was getting a little tired of trying to chase you down.”

William smiled a little bit. “Seein’ you was too hard, Buffy,” he said frankly. “I—I know what I did to you, an’ I just—I just couldn’t do it.”

Buffy frowned. “That was over and done with years ago, William. You sacrificed yourself for the good of the world. Don’t tell me you’re beating yourself up for something you did when you were a different person entirely.”

He shook his head. “You don’t understand, Buffy. I dream of the things I’ve done almost every night. I dreamed—” he broke off abruptly. “There are some things that aren’t forgivable. An’ I have a son now. I can’t afford to get involved in a relationship that’s gonna hurt me or Ty.”

Buffy was stung. The last thing she wanted was to hurt anyone, and she said so. “Look, I get that you don’t really remember everything about our relationship, but Spike was my friend. He was the one person I trusted more than anyone else in the world at the end. And I loved him.”

He stared at her. It was the last thing he’d ever expected her to say. “But—what I did—”

“What you did was save the world,” Buffy replied. She watched as a shudder ran through him, and she felt a deep burgeoning love within her heart for this man who was so like, and yet so unlike the one she’d known. “We don’t really know each other,” she said. “Maybe we used to, but we’re both different people now. So let’s start over, blank slate.” She smiled, remembering the last time they’d had a blank slate. They’d made a pretty good team.

Buffy stuck out her hand. “Hi. I’m Buffy Summers.”

William took her hand, an awestruck look on his face. This was the first time he’d come face to face with part of his past that he’d just about destroyed, and found himself forgiven. “William Smith,” he replied. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Buffy.”

~~~~~

“So are they here yet?” Emmie asked, craning her neck to look around the room. Her hand was tucked through Angel’s arm, and she was searching anxiously for William and Buffy.

Angel looked down at his date amused. Emmie was a couple inches taller than Buffy, but given how short the Slayer was, that wasn’t saying a whole lot. He glanced over at the door and caught a glimpse of the blonde couple entering, Spike presenting his invitation to the doorman. “They just came in,” he reassured her. “Were you thinking they weren’t going to show up?”

She shrugged. “Knowing William? He can be a little erratic at times. He decides he doesn’t want to do something, then he won’t do it.”

Angel looked at Buffy from across the room and felt the old, familiar desire hit him, along with a sense of jealousy aimed at William. “Trust me, Will would be completely insane if he hadn’t decided to come.”

Emmie grinned. “I know. I helped her pick out her dress.”

A few minutes later, Buffy and William strolled up to meet them. Emmie thought they made a stunning couple, and she stole a look at Angel to see how he was taking the sight of them together. Other than a slight tightening of the jaw, he seemed to be doing fairly well. “So you decided to ditch me, huh?” he asked Buffy, deliberately keeping his tone light.

“I had my reasons,” she replied, sharing a look with Emmie. Both of the men thought they knew what she meant, even though they didn’t know the extent of the deception. To stem any potential questions, Buffy turned to William. “Aren’t you going to ask me to dance?”

He smiled in reply, suddenly feeling as though his greatest wish had been granted. And he hadn’t even known it was what he wanted. “Would you dance with me, Miss Summers?”

Emmie stole a look at Angel as they walked off and patted him on the arm. “Come on,” she said. “You need a drink, and then we can dance.”

“Fred looks good tonight,” Buffy said softly as they danced. They’d seen and greeted both Wes and Fred as well as Gunn and his date. There seemed to be a general consensus to let everyone retreat to their respective corners, however. Fred was busy saying something to Wes that made him smile. And Gunn couldn’t take his eyes off his date, a woman named Gwen who seemed to have at least a passing acquaintance with the rest of them, but whom Buffy had never met.

“Mm,” William agreed. “’Bout time the two of them stopped dancing around the issue. Took ‘em forever to get around to realizing that they liked each other.”

“What happened?” Buffy asked, always keen to get the latest gossip.

He chuckled. “Told Wes to hurry up an’ make his move. Then I took ‘em to Lorne’s and left ‘em by themselves.” He paused, and then observed, “Kind of like they’re all doing with us this evening.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Buffy replied primly.

He raised an eyebrow. “Minx,” William said with affection. “Like hell you didn’t. You and Emmie both were in it to your eyebrows.”

“How did you know?” she asked.

“Besides that little speech in the car?” he asked. Tenderly brushing her hair from her face, he glanced over at Angel. “The boss-man isn’t throwin’ a fit about me bein’ with you, which means Emmie told him somethin’ to keep him calm. Plus, the dresses. Ty told me you took him shopping. Women only spend that much time pickin’ out a new dress if the man’s important enough.”

“Shows how much you know about women,” Buffy teased. “We’ll look for any excuse to shop.”

“Maybe,” he laughed. “Don’t know as much as I should probably, since you’re all still a bloody great mystery to me.”

The song stopped, and there was clapping coming from all around them. “I think I need to get some air,” Buffy said. “Do you mind?”

“No, luv.” He offered her his arm. “There’s a balcony over that way.”

~~~~~

Emmie watched the two leave from her position in Angel’s arms. She hadn’t thought he would spend as much time with her as he had, much less dancing with her. “They look good together,” she observed.

“They do,” Angel agreed, hardly believing the words were coming out of his mouth. But eight years had softened the edges of their relationship, even if it hadn’t extinguished the love they felt for one another. Truly, they had both managed to move on, and time had taught them that they could. “It was kind of you to let Buffy have him to herself tonight.”

Emmie looked up at him in surprise. “I couldn’t be selfish after finding out how she felt for him, Angel. It wouldn’t have been right.”

It was Angel’s turn to look surprised. “But I thought you—”

Emmie rolled her eyes. “You know, I swear you can’t have a platonic relationship with someone without everybody thinking you’re secretly in love.” She looked him straight in the eye. “I’m not in love with William, Angel. I never have been.”

The vampire read the truth in her eyes. “Emmie—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted. “I know already. You don’t have to say it. Let’s not ruin the evening, please. Just pretend for a minute that it’s me you want to be with, please?”

Angel ran a tender hand down the side of her face. “That’s easy.” Cool lips tasted hers, and he could scent her hope. “You’re not a hard person to be with, Mary Elizabeth.” As he said it, he realized that it was the truth. In some ways she reminded him very much of the women he’d loved before: Buffy with her fire and Cordelia with her sharp tongue. But she had an essence that was her own, one he could definitely get used to having around.

“And I thought you barely knew I existed,” she said softly, half teasing, half serious.

He smiled. “As if you were someone who could be overlooked.” Angel’s eyes darkened. “You know this isn’t going anywhere, don’t you?”

“I know the stories, Angel,” she replied calmly. “They don’t matter. Not tonight. Tonight is for dreaming.”

~~~~~

Buffy shivered slightly in the cool evening air, and even as she did, she could feel William drape his jacket across her shoulders. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure, luv.”

Stealing a look at him, she thought something was missing, and she blurted it out before she could think. “You don’t smoke anymore.”

“Guess I don’t,” he replied easily. “Gotta set an example for the kiddies you know. Plus, I’ve heard they’re not good for you.” William grinned at her easily.

The moonlight hit him squarely, and Buffy felt a sudden sense of déjà vu. To see him like this, whatever her intentions had been to let things progress suddenly, she wanted him with a passion. She wanted him to look at her in that old way he had, the way he’d looked at her in her dreams. “I missed you.”

“Buffy—”

“I know we’re starting over,” she continued, babbling now. “I know you’re not Spike, and that you don’t remember, and you probably don’t even know where this is coming from. But I dreamed of this so often, and what you would say and what I would say, and I have to say it. Because if I don’t say it now, you might not want to hear it later. You could leave again, because everyone always leaves, but I can’t stand to have you gone.”

Whatever protest he might have offered died on his lips, his eyes widening in surprise. “I told you, you have to find me,” he replied, repeating the words from the last good dream he’d had.

“Spike?” she whispered, searching his face for answers. “Wait, you dream, you remember…”

“Only when I’m in them,” he said. “They disappear like smoke when I wake, most of them. But the ones with you in them, those are the clearest.” William took a step closer, touching her cheek. “I couldn’t stand to speak to you because I knew you’d hate me, and in my dreams you told me you loved me.”

Buffy rested her head against his shoulder, feeling his (warm) arms slip around her. “In my dreams we’re always on the same beach,” she whispered. “And you hold me like you did at the end, like you are now.”

“And in some of my dreams, we’re doin’ a bit more than huggin’, luv,” he said, his suggestive tone making her laugh. And remember.

“Those were some of the most memorable,” she admitted. “You need to know,” Buffy said suddenly. “You need to know what you were, William. Because there was a lot more to it that ‘you, evil, Slayer, good.’ There was so much…”

“Show me,” he whispered, kissing her hungrily, feeling a desire that was both strange and familiar. “Show me what I was.”

Part 3: Filling in the Blanks

“One look at love/and you may see/it weaves a web over mystery,/all ravelled threads/can rend apart/for hope has a place in the lover’s heart./Whispering world,/A sigh of sighs,/The ebb and flow of the ocean tides,/One breath, one word/may end or may start/a hope in the place of the lover’s heart./Look to love/you may dream/and if it should leave/then give it wings./But if such a love is meant to be;/Hope is home, and the heart is free./Under the heavens/we journey far,/on roads of life/we’re the wanderers,/So let love rise,/So let love depart,/Let hope have a place in the lover’s heart.” ~Enya, “Hope Has a Place”

I

Titus William Smith was more frightened than he had ever been in his young life. A reluctant whimper escaped his throat as he thought about the men who had grabbed him from the school. He had known they weren’t from Wolfram & Hart; his gut had told him that, even though he thought maybe he’d recognized one of them. His dad had always told him to listen to his instincts and he hadn’t, so it was his own fault he was in this mess.

That thought gave him enough strength to stifle the tears that were still threatening. Buffy had told him that his dad was a hero, and Uncle Angel was a hero too. And Buffy and Emmie were heroes because they were Slayers, and so were Uncle Wes and Uncle Gunn and Aunt Fred. So he had a duty to be a hero just like his dad. Buffy had told him that a very bad woman had tortured his dad for information, but he’d kept quiet because he knew if he didn’t Buffy and her sister would get hurt. He’d be brave like his dad.

“Bloody hell.” Ty whispered his father’s favorite curse. Dad would kill him if he ever heard him say it. So he said it again, and then he repeated every bad word that came to mind, including a few that he’d overheard Uncle Angel use when he wasn’t supposed to be listening. Feeling much better, he closed his eyes and concentrated hard on the ropes encircling his wrists. Uncle Wes had taught him the spell, but you had to be calm and focused to use it.

“Eximete.” He wasn’t strong enough to actually have the ropes dissolve, but they loosened up enough so that he could twist out of them. He grinned proudly and held out his hand, concentrating again. “Luminous.” A tiny light danced in the middle of his palm, and he could now see the room they’d tossed him into. It looked like a janitor’s closet, but it could be anywhere in the city. They’d put a bag over his head once they’d gotten him into the car, so he had no clue where he might be.

Frowning, he looked at the door, holding out a hand to unlock the door just as Uncle Wes had taught him. Then he paused. If he went out the door, and there was someone there, he’d just be leaping from the frying pan into the fire, as Aunt Fred would say. Dad always told him that you didn’t need brawn, just brains to survive in the world. The guy with the brains would beat brawn every time. “Of course,” Uncle Angel would always reply. “It doesn’t hurt if you have both, William.” And then they would usually get into one of their fights that weren’t really fights at all.

He whispered the word for the unlocking spell, hearing the faint click and then turned to look at the ventilation shaft above him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a dime, which he figured he could use to unscrew the fasteners. Ty smiled. He was out of there.

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