CHAPTER 7 - FOOTWEAR & POETRY

Before Clem left, Buffy asked him about the box that Spike had told her he'd had Clem bring up here.

"Oh my goodness, girl, I'd forgotten all about that," he said, "come on."

They walked over to the DeSoto, which he'd parked on the side of the house. He took the key from the ignition and opened up the trunk, "Here, let me take this to the house for you," Clem said, lifting out the rather large carton.

"Where do you want it?" he asked.

Buffy pointed to the floor in front of the fireplace and Clem put it down there.

"Thanks, Clem," Buffy said.

"No problem, you need anything, I'm only a cell phone away," he said, as he walked to the door.

Buffy closed the door. It was getting dark again, so Buffy put some wood on in the fireplace and started a fire going. The generator was now working, so she turned on a lamp in the living room.

She pulled the box over toward the couch and looked at it.

It had her name on the top, written in Spike' s handwriting.

She pulled the tape up and opened the box.

The first thing she saw was a note laying on top of the light blue blanket that she'd wrapped around his shoulders, after she'd brought him to her house, after discovering that The First had been using him to kill.

5/18/03

Dear Buffy,

Just some things that I thought you might like to have...things I thought you might want protected and out of Sunnydale. I hope I picked what you would have.

Now, open the blanket up, first...

Buffy laid the letter down and opened up the blanket. There inside, were her drawings she'd thought had been lost. The ones Spike had drawn for her when they'd been here in Julian last winter. Tears came to her eyes as she went through them.

Underneath those were also some of her own personal pictures, pictures she'd thought had been lost to the rubble that was now Sunnydale. Pictures of her as a baby, of Joyce, of Dawn, of her, Willow, & Xander. Her old Sunnydale Yearbook, and a ton of other pictures that had been in photo albums.

How had he done that? She knew he'd had to have gotten the pictures from a variety of places in the house.

Next, were some newer drawings he had done of her, Dawn, and Joyce. He'd drawn them at the beach, out on a hike, in the kitchen, things that they'd actually done, but had never had a picture taken of. Things she'd told him about, and some that she hadn't. Maybe her mom had? Or Dawn? There were at least 25 different drawings of them as a family. Another 10 of her and the Scoobies, including Giles, Anya, and even Tara.

She'd have to give some of these to Xander, to Willow, to Dawn. At least have copies made to give them. They would be grateful to have pictures of their loved ones, too.

There were also many pictures of her that he had drawn, of her and him. In poses and in scenes they'd never been in, but that he'd wished they would have, that she wished they could have. Sitting side by side in the cemetery on top a headstone (ok, that one really did happen, lots!). Scenes from Julian, scenes of him watching her sleep (okay, that probably happened lots, too!) scenes of them looking at each other with love and awe, scenes of them being on a bridge with the Tower of London behind them (she knew that didn't happen), at Stonehenge, (great! more mystic stuff!) or the Eiffel Tower, the pyramids, the Great Wall of China, and other locations. Spike had drawn them together in all the places he'd never had a chance to take her. All the places, that given a different life, he would have loved her in, given her the world.

But the one picture that had been most moving for her, had been the one of her and him underneath an outdoor canopy. Their friends are in the foreground, while in the background, you can see the ocean. The sun is shining, and the canopy is decorated in flowers. Buffy is wearing a white dress; Spike is wearing a tuxedo. He is lifting her veil with one hand, as their fingers of their other hands are entwined. She is wearing the necklace.

Buffy stared at the picture. He'd drawn a picture of them getting married? In the sunlight, no less!

"Oh, Spike! What are you doing to me?" she asks, as her stomach was now firmly lodged in her throat.

In all their time together, good and bad, he'd never; they'd never, ever brought up anything remotely related to marriage. Unless you counted that time he talked about not still dreaming of a little tomb with a white picket fence...

"Really hitting below the belt now, Spike," she whispered staring at her wedding/not a wedding drawing.

"What no kiddies, Spike? No fat grandchildren? Torture me much?" she asked into the night.

She'd finally gone through all the pictures and went back to his letter.

Don't be mad at me (the next part read) for my little flights of fancy. If I could have, I would have taken you all these places, showed you the world, married you, even. But since that isn't possible, just having you to myself for a couple of precious hours these last few days has been all I have ever wanted, all I ever needed. Just to be near you, just to be able to love you. Just wish I could have done more for you, pet. So that's what these pictures are about - just my way of giving you the world...

"You did, Spike, you already did!" Buffy said, wiping her eyes.

The rest of the box contained some clothes of hers; clothes that she figured meant something to Spike. They were all clothes that she remembered having brought here, or if she thought back, something she wore when they'd been close, somehow. They all had memories related to him, which is why she knew he'd picked them out.

Then there had been a few things of his. Three black t-shirts, black pair of jeans, pair of socks, a black jean jacket, (consistent much, Spike?) and a couple of books. One was an anthology of poetry, one a history book of the Roman Empire. She fingered his things lovingly. Brought one of his t-shirts up to her nose and inhaled, hoping they weren't recently washed. She smiled, smelling him, his smoke, his scent.

She buried her head in his T-shirt and cried for a while against it.

After a while, she put it on her lap, and went back to the box.

On the bottom, there was at least 10 pair of her shoes and boots. She laughed, no wonder he'd dreamed he was 'drowning in footwear,' that night.

She looked back to the letter:

That’s about it, luv. Just hope I choose what you would have chosen to bring.

Love, William

P.S. Hope you’ll forgive my totally inadequate poetic expressions. Don’t believe that 100+ years have made much of an improvement in what I’d been called, pet.

She looked questioningly at the last statement, then shrugged, figuring he was talking about this letter in general.

She was just about to put the clothes back over the shoes, when something sticking out of one of her boots, caught her attention.

It was paper; taped together, rolled up like a scroll. She took it out, unrolled it, and started to read.

SLUMBER

I look down and see you slumber

Hair golden on my shoulder

Splayed, silken strands touch my face

and neck

My fingers hesitate to touch your tresses,

Waken you unnecessarily

From your needed rest

Wanted to kill you

Wanted to hurt you

Wanted to help you

Wanted to feel you

Wanted to love you

Wanted to possess you

Wanted to fuck you

Now all I want is for you to rest

Give you what you deserve

SELFISH

"You do," I'd insisted

"Love me," I'd said.

"No, I don't," you'd relied,

"I could never love you," you'd insisted

And selfishly, I tried to make it so,

Tried to make you feel it,

Hurt the girl, hurt you,

Hurt Buffy

"Should've killed me," I insisted

"I could never," you'd replied.

Instead, took me home,

Gave me your faith,

And your belief.

"You can be a better man," you'd said,

"You are," you insisted.

And your words became my truth,

Kept me alive in the darkest dark

Pushed away the evil inside me

Brought in the light and hope

I was selfish,

You never belonged

In the dark,

With me.

BLOODY AWFUL POET

I've been called a bloody awful poet

In my youth

With good reasons

That I know

I am a bloody awful poet

But because of you

I am (I think) once again

A good man

ALL THAT I HAVE

Can't give you Paris,

London, or Rome

Don't have much

In this mortal coil

Give you all that I have

My loyalty,

My truth,

My faith,

My belief,

My passion,

My love.

It's all I have

Is it enough?

It's all I have

It's all yours.

BUFFY

The word that defies,

The girl who proclaims,

To the world, she is just

a girl

To me she is everything

"Don't want to be The One,"

She says,

Just want to be a girl

Just want to be normal

But normal she

Could never be.

Never ordinary,

Never plain,

Never unimportant,

Never normal

She is everything

Reason for the sun to come out

Reason for the tide to come in

Reason men fight and die

Reason there's goodness

Reason there's beauty

Reason there is me.

Extraordinary

Lovely

Buffy

TOUCHED

"Just hold me," you said,

And set my heart free

To be close to you

Watch you sleep

Hold you...

Have you any idea,

How precious your words are?

How much they meant to me?

To be trusted by you?

Let yourself be held by me, again?

"Just hold me," you said.

There was nothing 'just' about it.

It was everything to me.

As you are,

Always have been,

Always will be.

Everything.

Everything good and pure.

Love.

Light.

Everything.

NOT ENOUGH

If I could love you forever

It wouldn't be enough

If I could hold you forever

It would never be enough

If a thousand, thousand, thousand

Years from now, the world were

To end

And by some miracle

You were still in my arms

It woudn't have been enough

You see,

I love you forever,

And still forever,

Is never enough.

SELFISH II

And now,

Spike and William

Want you to know,

You've got to go on.

On with the show.

On with your life,

Our days were done.

Done with the night,

As they’d been

With the sun.

But you are here,

So live for us.

We were selfish once,

But now, that's done.

Live for us,

Heck, live twice.

Live for us,

Try it, it'll be...

Living.

Buffy smiled as she rolled up the make-shift scroll, "You’ll never be ‘bloody awful,’ to me, Spike," she said, shaking her head in wonder, "never."

CHAPTER 8 - ALL LEGAL-LIKE

Over the next couple of weeks, Buffy worked at making Spike's house into something that she could be comfortable living in long term, as well as preserving the essential "William-ness" to it.

One of the first things she did was to take her dad's advice and establish a P.O. Box in La Jolla, it was a drive, but it was worth it. She didn't want anybody to trace her to Julian.

The next thing she did was to take some of the money that her dad had put into an account for her and go to a computer store, getting herself a laptop, printer, and scanner/fax. She might be living in a house that was anything but modern, but the only way she would be able to keep up with her friends and Dawn, would be by being online. After being there with Spike last February, she knew just how to do it, too.

Buffy contacted all her creditors and paid up her bills on her cellular phone and credit cards and changed her address with them. Her dad would take care of her car insurance and Dawn's. As for the mortgage on her old house? What house? What mortgage company? She figured she'd pretty much got out of that. Yin & Yang - no bill, but no house.

As long as she kept busy during the day, she could keep from losing it, as long as she could stay focused on the task at hand. Cleaning almost a century of dirt and dust from the house was one thing, chopping firewood, making sure she had enough propane, fixing up things that were worn out, and shopping for new things. Even silly stuff like shelf liner paper, glass cleaner, wood-cleaning stuff, etc.

Buffy would catch herself often imagining how Spike would have liked this or that purchase. She’d really never been shopping with him, only been out to a restaurant once with him…but in her fantasy, either he would be with her, arguing for or against something either of them liked, or he would be home, waiting for her return, to show him what she’d bought. In any case, he was always there with her, in her head, either agreeing or arguing with her. He was just like he always had been - opinionated.

She’d been at Walmart, picking up cleaning and household supplies, while looking for something pretty to hang up, "Why not?" she’d asked him in her head, when her ‘inner Spike’ argued against a framed picture.

"Looks like something ‘the poof’ would have," she’d imagine him saying and rolling his eyes, "that’s one thing, second thing - at least go to a regular art gallery and get somethin’ decent. Read an art book! This is junk!" he’d say and go on and on about how French Impressionists were so much better, blah, blah.

"Okay, you win," she’d say with a sigh. "Sheesh, just shut-up, Spike, please! Even now, you won’t stop yammering at me," she said, with a fond, but sad little smile, not caring about the strange looks she was getting from nearby shoppers, as she’d put the ‘unknown-starving-artist-mass-produced-flowered-painting,’ which really was kind of garish, back on the shelf.

"Just trying to teach ya the difference between art and junk, luv," he’d say.

"Just shut-up," she’d reply, "always have to have the last word?"

"What do you think?" he’d go on to prove her point.

But by far, the nights were the hardest. Gone was the familiar bantering back and forth that she could almost keep herself from being lonely with during the day. Gone was the eye rolls, the smirks, the quips. Night was when she felt the most alone, most vulnerable, and most depressed over Spike’s absence in her life, and over his death.

She would pace the house for hours, or lay in bed wide awake trying to remember things he’d said, the time they’d had together in the house, or back in Sunnydale. She was afraid to sleep, afraid to dream, because she never knew what to expect. Her dreams could be comforting, with Spike telling her that everything was alright, that he was alright, that she would be, too. Or they could be dreams where he was still alive, when they were here or in Sunnydale, (these were the hardest to wake up from, knowing they were only dreams) or they could be nightmares of him burning up and turning to dust before her eyes. She never had any way of knowing which was to come to her and so she avoided sleep as much as she could.

Finally, the day came that she'd dreaded the most. She'd called Lawrence Jr. to set up a meeting with him at The Rittenhouse, after first calling Edna to confirm that there was an envelope there for her. She asked if she could come by to talk to her privately, before the meeting.

The meeting with Lawrence was scheduled for Friday July 11, 2003 at 3:00pm. The restaurant was closed between 2:00pm & 4:00pm to get ready for the dinner crowd.

It was an overcast, as she drove the Subaru to the restaurant, steeling herself for what would be surely, an emotionally draining day. She pulled up to the restaurant at 2:00pm and turned off the car. As she did she heard it, "na,na,na,na,na,na,na,na I wanna be sedated," heart pounding she got out of the car and walked over to the young man who seemed about 16 years old, who was working on his car in front of the restaurant.

"Hi, can I help you?" he asked.

"Um, I’m here to see Edna," Buffy said.

"Oh, I’m her great-grandson, Wallace from back east. I’m out here helping Grandma Edna for the summer," he said, wiping his hands on his pants, then extending it to her, "nice to meet you."

She shook his hand, "nice to meet you, too. I’m Bu, Elizabeth," she said.

"Oh, Uncle William’s friend! She told me you were coming," he said smiling, "how is William? I haven’t seen him since I was about 7 years old, but I always heard about him."

Buffy didn’t know what to say, "I wanted to ask you something," she said, changing the subject, "who is that playing on the radio?"

"Huh? Oh, the CD, that’s the Ramones, old punk band from the 80’s. Always sort of liked them," he smiled sheepishly.

She didn’t say anything, so he asked her, "Do you like them?"

"They remind me of someone, especially this song," she said, trying not to let her voice crack.

"Yeah? That’s cool. Would you like me to burn you a copy?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"I’ve got a CD burner on my laptop, just take a few minutes, I’ll go get a blank one from inside and make you a copy."

"Really? That’s so nice, let me pay you something," Buffy said.

"No, I don’t want any money, I’m glad to do it," Wallace said.

"You sure?" Buffy asked.

"Positive! Come on, I’ll take you inside to see grandma, while I get my blank CD and laptop," he said, letting Buffy go before him.

"Thank you," she said.

"Grandma," Wallace yelled once inside, "Elizabeth is here to see you!"

"Grandma don’t hear so well these days," he said to Buffy.

"No, but I heard that loud and clear!" she said, smiling at Buffy and giving Wallace a grandmotherly look of disapproval, with a smile behind it.

"Elizabeth, it’s so nice to see you," Edna said, coming up and giving her a hug, "I see you’ve met Wally," she said.

"Yes, we met outside," Buffy answered.

"I’m going to burn her a copy of The Ramones, grandma," Wallace said, "she liked the music," he explained.

She nodded, smiling.

Wallace left the front room and Edna and Buffy walked into the dining area, sitting down at a small table toward the back of the room. It had already been set up with a pitcher of coffee and some muffins and rolls.

Buffy unzipped her sweater and sat down.

"Oh, Elizabeth," Edna said, smiling, "I see you’re wearing the necklace that William bought for you on your last visit," she continued, "and tell me, did he like Shakespeare book like I thought he would? Did you get him to read some of it aloud for you?"

Buffy looked at Edna and her façade started to crumple. Tears sprang to her eyes. Alarmed, Edna, reached across the table and in a surprisingly strong grip, took her hand in hers.

"Elizabeth," Edna said, softly, "tell me, what is it? What’s wrong?"

Buffy could only look at her, but it was written on her face.

"He’s gone, isn’t he?" Edna asked.

Buffy nodded, afraid to trust her voice.

"I had a feeling for a while now," she said, not seeing Buffy’s surprised look, "for a little over a month."

Edna looked at Buffy, "Am I right?"

Buffy nodded, then cleared her throat, "Yes."

Edna just looked at Buffy, so she continued, "He…he was in Sunnydale," she said, not knowing what other kind of explanation she could possibly come up with.

"I heard about that, everyone heard about that. Tragic, tragic. I just never imagined that’s where you two were from," she said, "your family get out? Before?"

Buffy nodded.

They were silent a few moments, then Buffy said softly, "He saved me."

Edna looked up, "That’d be our William, now, wouldn’t it? Saving you, saving me, um, I mean his grandfather," she corrected, quickly.

"Never thought I’d live to see the day…" Edna stopped, wiping her eyes on a piece of Kleenex she took out of the sleeve of her sweater.

"He loved you, you know," Edna said, looking at Buffy.

Buffy nodded, tears in her eyes.

"And you loved him?"

She nodded again.

"You didn’t realize it so much last time you were here, but I saw it. I knew that you did, that you and he belonged together," Edna said.

At this, the tears ran down her face, and she made a small choking sound.

Edna got up and came over to where Buffy was sitting, putting her arms around her.

"What good does that do me now?" she asked Edna, "a little late to show him!"

"Aw, he knew it Miss Elizabeth, he knew it. You take it from me. Man like him always knows his heart and the heart of those around him."

Buffy didn’t know why Edna’s words touched her or made sense to her, or why she felt comforted by them. Perhaps, because she was almost like his family, in a strange sort of way.

"Do you think so? You really think he knew?" Buffy asked, looking up at Edna.

"I don’t think so, I know it. I know it in my heart, as much as I know that the necklace he gave you has both your initials on it."

At that, Buffy gasped, looking at Edna, who nodded, "That necklace used to be mine. My husband Lawrence gave it to me when we got engaged. Had our initials engraved on the back," she said.

At seeing Buffy’s confused look, she explained, "His full name was Wallace Lawrence McKennitt, but he didn’t like Wallace, so he went by Lawrence, but when we got engaged, thought he ought to use his proper first name, that’s why the W & E on the back.

Buffy looked at her, "We saw it. Sp, William and I. We wondered about it, but didn’t think it was you and Lawrence."

"It was," she smiled.

"But, why did you sell it?" Buffy asked.

"Well, it was…" she didn’t want to explain the mix-up, so she said, "I had it long enough and I was so happy that William had picked it out of all the things in the case. His eye went right to it. I could see by the way he looked at it how much he thought you would like it. Must have been something about it that caught his eye. And of course, the initials on the back, matching those of yours and William’s. I just thought it was perfect!" she said, smiling.

"I treasure it," Buffy said, as she looked down at the necklace, "I always will."

"I know you will, Elizabeth," Edna said, "I know you will."

They had coffee then, Edna making sure that Buffy ate some muffins, telling her she was looking too thin.

They spoke mostly of Spike in the more distant past, and of his ‘father’ and ‘grandfather.’ Edna offered to give Buffy any leftover food that she had everyday, but Buffy wouldn’t accept.

"You know he’d want you to take care of yourself," Edna said.

"I know," Buffy replied, "I’m alright."

Edna fussed over her some, making her promise to stop by often. Buffy promised, though she wasn’t sure if she’d actually do it or not.

At 3:00pm a tall, graying man walked through the door into the restaurant.

"Mother?" he called.

"Oh, that must be Lawrence, excuse me," she said to Buffy.

She came back a few minutes later and introduced them, "Elizabeth Summers, this is my son, Lawrence McKennitt, Jr."

"Nice to meet you," Lawrence said, "Wally said I’d find you in here," he said, extending his hand to her.

"Why don’t you two go into my office," she suggested, "the envelope is in there."

They nodded and Edna took them into the kitchen and beyond the room where she and Spike had eaten dinner. She was glad the door to that room was closed, too many memories were flooding her, just being here.

Edna opened up a door to a small room, apologizing, "Sorry, it’s so small and such a mess, dear, I tried to clean up earlier," she said looking at Lawrence and Buffy.

"It’s alright mother," Lawrence said.

Buffy smiled at her and Edna left then, "Stay as long as you wish, you won’t be disturbing anything, even if dinner hour starts."

The door closed and they were alone. Lawrence cleared his throat, "First, let me say how sorry I was to hear about William. He spoke very kindly of you and your sister when we last spoke. I think he must have had some premonition, when he had me make out this will."

He looked at Buffy questioningly, but she just held his glance.

He looked away, continuing, "Can you tell me, if it’s not too painful, just how he died."

Not too painful…if he only knew!

"He was in Sunnydale, when it…collapsed, sink-holed, earthquaked…"

"I see," he said, quickly. He was satisfied with the answer, so he went on.

"Mr. Worthington, William, left you his house, all the property surrounding it, and also a sizeable inheritance for you and a college fund for your sister," he looked at his papers, "Dawn."

They talked about what needed to be done, to put it into her name and how she could access the accounts he’d left her, the trust fund for Dawn, and other things.

"So, I think that about covers it," Lawrence said, "do you have any questions for me now?"

"Just one," Buffy said, "How do I go about changing my name?"

CHAPTER 9 - I WANNA BE SEDATED

"What?" Lawrence asked her, "you want to change your name?"

Buffy nodded, "I do."

It had been something she'd been considering for the last couple of weeks. She didn't know if she could definitely say why she wanted to, or define all the reasons, but her instinct, above all else, told her that this was a move she needed to, not just wanted to make.

Lawrence studied her, "Your name is Buffy Summers, correct?"

She nodded.

"But mother calls you Elizabeth, is that your actual name?"

"Um, no, not really, but Buffy is usually short for Elizabeth, so a lot of people assume that's my 'real' name. That's how Sp...William introduced me to Edna."

"I see," Lawrence said, "and you want to change your name to what?"

"Elizabeth Anne Worthington," Buffy said, smiling.

He looked at her, sighed, then said, "You're not the first person to ever have lost someone and decided to take on their loved one's last name as a tribute, but I usually advise against that."

"Why?" Buffy asked.

"Because, in time, you may wish you hadn't," Lawrence said, "also, William deeded the house to you, Buffy Summers, if you were to change your name, then it may be complicated. For now."

"For now?"

"Why don't you let the property be deeded to you, with your name as it is now, then, say in 6 months or a year, if you wish to still change it, then we can do that. It will just be easier than trying to go to the courts with both the transfer of the property and inheritance, plus the name change. Could get confused, and we don't want any ambiguity there, alright?"

Buffy sighed, "Alright, I'll let things stand as they are now, but I want to change it, as soon as I can. I plan on..."she realized she didn't know what she actually planned on doing.

"How long will it take?"

"To change your name?"

"No, for the legal stuff with the house and all that?"

"Probably a month or two. We have to have something that states how William died, to prove that he did, and since there's no body, no coroner's report, no nothing from Sunnydale," he sighed. "I'm sorry, I know this is probably upsetting to you. Hopefully, the courts will take into account what's happened in Sunnydale. They may need a written statement from you and anybody else who can verify that he was still there when it...collapsed..."

"What else do you need?" Buffy asked, wishing she could be anywhere other than here.

"You wouldn't happen to have any personal papers of his, would you? Any legal resident papers? Social Security numbers? Birth certificate?"

Buffy let out a little laugh. If he only knew... "No, I was hoping that you did, considering..."

He shook his head, "No, but I'll come up with something that should satisfy the courts, if that's alright with you?" he said, looking pointedly at her. "Don't worry, I'll make sure it's all fine, we'll meet again before the final court date and I'll show you what I 'found' in the way of papers, okay?"

"Thank you," Buffy said, rising to leave, "and then afterward, I can change my name?"

He nodded, "Shouldn't be a problem, let's just let this go through first."

She nodded.

They walked to the door, she told him, "Say goodbye to Edna for me."

"I will," Lawrence promised.

Buffy walked out, letting out a sigh. It had been hard, but she'd gotten through it, she'd...

"Elizabeth!" she heard her name called and turned around to see Wallace sprinting up to her.

"Here," he said, handing her a CD, "here's the Ramones CD I made for you!"

"Oh, I'd forgotten, thank you so much, Wallace, Wally?"

"Wally's fine, or Wallace, sounds more grown-up, don't you think?"

She nodded, "Thank you Wallace, you have no idea how much this means to me," she looked at him, then continued, "William. It was William's favorite group, but I didn't know their name...so thank you," Buffy said, holding the CD gently in her hands.

"No problem, I'm glad to do it," Wallace said, embarrassed, "grandmother told me about him, I’m sorry, I didn’t know…"

"That’s alright, I knew you didn’t," Buffy said, getting into the car, "bye, take care of your grandmother."

"I will," he said, "bye."

She opened the case and popped the CD into the car's player, "...na na na na na na na na, I wanna be sedated..."

She turned up the volume and sang along, tears streaming down her face, "You don't know how much, Spike, you don't know how much!"

"...I wanna be sedated..."

CHAPTER 10 - A BUFFY BY ANY OTHER NAME...

As promised, a couple of months later, all the legal processing of the deed and will had been done and the house was now in her name.

As Buffy had said she would, she went about changing her name to Elizabeth Anne Worthington. A check had to be first done on Buffy Anne Summers to make sure that she wasn't a wanted fugitive or deadbeat. Once that cleared, it only took a couple of minutes in front of a disinterested judge to legally change her name.

She walked out into the sunny, late October afternoon with a new name and new identity. She took a deep breath of the fall air and felt a weight lifted from her shoulders. Buffy Summers was now dead. Well, not dead, she told herself, just officially retired.

And hopefully, forgotten.

Within another couple of weeks she'd had all her paperwork - driver's license, deed, accounts, etc., changed to her new name.

Now what was 'Elizabeth Anne Worthington' going to do for the rest of 'her' life?

Buffy kept in touch every other day or so with Dawn, who was now in her junior year of high school. She seemed to be doing well at the new school and with living with Hank. Every 2-3 weeks, Buffy would drive up to see them and they'd spend the day shopping, talking, visiting, having dinner with her dad. She even spent the night there a couple of times.

She convinced her dad to wire the money to her bank account, rather than sending a check, so she was able to keep from telling him and Dawn about her name change. She wanted to tell Dawn, but she never wanted to put Dawn in the position of having to lie to her friends about it. And she didn't want to tell any of her friends or former watcher about it. She'd never told Dawn or anybody what Spike's last name had been, and she was sure he hadn't. So, she was afraid if Dawn found out, she might figure it out. For now, it would all have to just be between her and ...well...her.

Maybe someday.

She emailed Willow at least once every week at first, then it had become once every couple of weeks. She kept asking what Buffy was doing, what she was going to do, where she was living, and other questions. And through it all, Buffy felt bad for lying about living at this place or that, with this imaginary 'old' friend or that one. She was sure Willow knew she didn't have those sorts of connections outside Sunnydale, as she'd spent all her time there for the past 7 years. Soon, Willow stopped asking those sort of questions, figuring that sooner or later, Buffy would tell her that if she wanted to, so they mostly talked about Willow and Kennedy.

Willow and Giles had come up with an ingenious plan to contact the new slayers. The Internet! First, with a locator spell, Willow had been able to come up with an approximation of all the slayers that had been called, within a rough geographic location. Then it was narrowed down to approximately a 1-block area. Finding the Internet access of all people living within a one block. Once that was done, a carefully worded Spam could be sent out to all those within that one block area. Something along the lines of, "Do you feel different lately, since May? Did you all of a sudden feel a surge of power, a rallying of your inner resources? Did you feel the urge to make a difference in the world all of a sudden, but not know how to go about it? Want to know more about where your power came from and what it means?" Then there was an email address given out. There was an online quiz, to weed out the curious from the real, the wheat from the chaff. In fact, there were three such questionnaires, only those who passed through all the steps were given the real email to Willow or Giles for further assessment.

So far, the had at least 50 inquiries check out and of those, 43 girls were interested in furthering their education in England as soon as the 'school' got set up.

Willow and Giles were soon going to be extremely busy.

Willow was also enrolled in college, completing her studies. She was double majoring in computer programming and political science.

Strangely enough, but not totally unexpectedly, Giles had only emailed once. She'd emailed him about a month after she'd settled in, telling him she was alright, and making up the same stuff she'd told Willow and just to tell him she was alright. He'd told her he was glad to hear from her and that if she ever needed anything or wanted to help out in England, she was more than welcome. That had been it. She was sort of relieved. Their relationship had been strained over the past year, especially over Spike, and she'd not quite forgiven him for that, nor did she feel that what she did anymore was his concern.

Willow had mentioned to her often about how many girls were going to need guidance, and that maybe Buffy should consider going back to school for a degree in Psychology. She wasn't sure that appealed to her or not. She'd only been half okay at it, if she was honest with herself. And from what she understood, that would require a masters degree to actually become a psychologist, not to mention there was a lot of self-analysis involved. Buffy and self-analysis, not a good match, that she could see.

Buffy started looking into going back to school. She hoped that the few meager credits she had accumulated, from classes she'd actually completed might still be in a data base somewhere in the state of California.

Around the middle of November, she decided to call a local college and set up an appointment with a counselor.

She arrived at California State University San Marcos at 9:00am on November 20, 2003 and found the office of Ms. Linda Sexton without too much difficulty.

"Come in Elizabeth," Ms. Sexton told her, ushering her into her cubicle.

"After we talked, I was able to locate your old transcripts. Looks like you only had about 8 credits from U.C.S.D.,

she looked over at Buffy, "your grade point average wasn't very high," she said.

"But they count, right?" Buffy asked, knowing full well how low they were.

"Yes, but if you keep them, even if you get all A's and B's the rest of your college career, these will still bring your grade point average down."

"How much down?" Buffy asked.

"Well, let's see," she did some calculations.

"Say you got all A's, but with these factored in, the highest G.P.A. you could hope to get would be a 3.3."

"Which is?"

"A 3.2 is just over a B, on average, and that's if you got all A's and high B's."

Buffy looked at her; "I'll keep them. I think if I were to show that I was the kind of person to get all A's and B's from here on out, that should count for something, shouldn't it? Wouldn't it be enough?"

Ms. Sexton looked at the serious young woman sitting in front of her. A young woman who looked like she'd seen more than her fair share of life already, "Yes, I would think that it would be looked at very favorably if that were the case."

Buffy nodded, "Then that's fine. If afterward, I want to take them over, then I still can, right?"

Ms.Sexton, nodded, "Yes, that would be fine."

"There's just one more thing, I've changed my name," Buffy said.

"Oh, did you get married?" Ms. Sexton asked, "I know how that goes, I just got married last year, but I decided to keep my name, so much hassle with changing everything, everywhere.

Strange, but nobody had asked her before why she'd changed her name. They'd just changed it.

She cleared her throat, "Yes, I was married, but he...he died," Buffy said.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Elizabeth. That's so tragic, you're so young, he must have been so young!"

If only she knew.

"How?"

"Sunnydale."

"Oh," Ms. Sexton said.

It always shut them up.

"Now, let me show you what papers you'll need to fill out and the course selections."

CHAPTER11 - BECOMING

CHAPTER 12 - SUMMER SCHOOL, PHILOSOPHY, AND THE AMULET