CHAPTER 161 - BLACK LEATHER DUSTER

OCTOBER 11, 2009
SATURDAY
4:00PM

"Oh bloody hell!" William cursed for the second time that day, just as shocked seeing himself in the mirror with white hair, as he'd been earlier. One reason, being that he'd just gotten up again, having gone back to bed to sleep off his hangover after his earlier discovery. Quite happily, he'd forgotten all about his new look, until this moment.

"Oh God!" he muttered, as he stared unbelieving into the mirror, shaking his head.

"How could you? You idiot, you...you stupid git!" he sputtered.

William paced around the apartment cursing all the more, and stopping every so often to pop back into the bathroom and look in the mirror, hoping every time he would find he'd been mistaken.

"Maybe I'm still asleep...yeah that's all, a dream, I'm still..."

He walked back into the bedroom, lay down and closed his eyes. A few minutes later he got up, and went into the bathroom, slowly lifting his head to dare another look into the mirror.

"Oh, bugger!"

Shuffling into the living room, he flopped down on the couch, defeated.

“Bugger!” he said again, suddenly having remembered about the cat. He’d forgotten all about feeding him this morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4:30PM

“I’m coming Charley,” William said to the cat that was meowing piteously from the other side of the door. As he let himself in, the cat took one look at him, and hissed, its fur standing straight up.

“What’s the matter boy?” William said, bending down to stroke him.

“Ouch!” he said, pulling his hand back, when the cat clawed at him.

Finally it dawned on him, “Yeah, right. I do look a fright, don’t I?”

Sitting down in the middle of the floor, he extended his hand to Charley, talking softly to the animal, “It’s okay kitty, still me, just looking like a git...”

After a while, curiosity overcame the cat’s initial fear. He came nearer, sniffing William’s hand, and responding to his soft voice.

“So, we okay now, are we?”

Charley purred in response.

After he fed the cat, and made sure he took his pill, he stuck around for a while to make it up to him. Sitting in a recliner in the living room, the cat jumped up on his lap, and let him assuage some of his guilt through petting. Eventually, the cat got bored of the attention, and went off to do his own thing, leaving William free to leave.

“Be back tomorrow morning, Charley. I promise.”

The cat gave his silent consent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

8:30PM

Tapping his foot with nervous energy, William tossed the book aside he’d been trying to read for the past two hours. Wondering what he was going to do with himself for the rest of the evening, he glanced surreptitiously at the laptop, then once again ignored it. He didn’t dare take a chance on seeing Dawn online again, or more importantly, Elizabeth.

After feeding Charley, he’d come back to the apartment, and tried to write her a letter, but hadn’t gotten much farther than the salutation. Afraid once he started, he’d pour his heart out, making her feel sorry for him. She didn’t need that and neither did he; better it come from Dawn that he was alright and leave it at that.

“She’s better off,” he told himself like a mantra.

“And what about you?” his inner voice asked, as he got up and paced the apartment. “Is this better for you? Being without the woman you love?” In answer to his question, he took down the bottle of Jack Daniels from the cabinet, poured some over ice, and took a drink.

He walked into the bathroom, glass in hand, and stared at his reflection in the mirror again and shuddered. Suddenly it occurred to him that he could undo it! He put the glass down, grabbed his car keys, and headed out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

William entered the drugstore, head down, as if that would prevent anyone from noticing the bright beacon of platinum hair that now crowned his head.

Although, in this day and age, so different form his own, anybody could look anyway they pleased with nary a glance, this still wasn't Los Angeles or San Francisco. This being the case, indeed, he did draw a few curious stares.

Glancing upwards only when he found the right aisle, he stopped in front of the shelf of hair dyes again. Studying the different shades of hair color for men, he found one that seemed near what his color had been, and took it down.

"Aw, you don't want to do that, do you?" a female voice asked, just as he was about to take the box up to the front of the store to pay for it.

William looked up, "Do what?"

"Dye your hair brown, I think you should leave it the color you have now," she said, smiling at him. She had short, raven black hair, which she wore in a sort of glam-punk style. It contrasted with her baby blue eyes, and just the hint of dimples. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but he couldn't place her.

"I don't think so," he said, shaking his head, eyes downcast.

"It's your hair, I'm just saying it looks good...sexy," she said the last part in a low voice.

He looked up at her in surprise. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it.

"How long have you worn it like this?" she asked, when he didn't answer her.

"Um...just did this yesterday; it was a mistake."

"Some people might buy corn flakes instead of oat flakes by mistake, but I've never heard of anyone buying hair bleach by mistake. Were you drunk or something?"

William's cheeks flushed, and he nodded; "Actually, yes. Not when I bought it, but when I decided to do it. Woke up this morning and..." he gestured with his hand towards his hair.

The girl laughed, but not unkindly, and he gave her a lopsided grin.

"Well, my advice would be to wait a bit before dying it back; you could really mess up your hair, if you put too many chemicals on it so close together."

"Really? Why? What could happen?"

"I don't know, your hair might fall out, break off, turn green...,” she said, her eyes laughing. "Look, I'm sort of teasing about all that, but in all honesty, it probably isn't a good idea to do a bleaching job on your hair, then dye it back the next day."

"Oh," William said, reluctantly putting the box back.

"Look, it's really not that bad. Makes you look...I don't know, I was going to say British, but you already are British, right? I know, you sort of look like that one punk rocker guy from around twenty, thirty years ago."

"Great," William said, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, he was kinda cool!"

"I’ll bet. Well, thanks for your advice; guess I'll wait a while. How long do you think I need to wait?"

"I don't know, I’d say at least a few weeks, to be on the safe side."

William groaned, "Great. Well, thanks again,” he said, and started walking away.

"Wait!" she called after him.

William stopped and turned.

"Um...look...what's your name?" she asked, as she took bright, neon yellow piece of paper from her purse.

"William," he said, hesitating a moment.

"William, if you want me to help you with your hair when you get ready to dye it, give me a call. Here's my work number; stop in sometime and have a drink, okay?” she said looking him in the eyes, as she scribbled something on the flyer, folded it, and put it into his hand, letting her fingertips rest there just a bit longer than necessary.

"Oh...I...uh...thanks," he mumbled, taken aback.

"Bye now," she said, as she walked off, hips swaying, sure that he was looking after her.

William stared at her until she turned the corner, then looked down at the paper, and unfolded it, to read:

Ipso Facto Lounge

Music
*
Eats
*
Pool
*
Darts
*
Poetry Slam Now through Halloween !

Open Daily 4pm - 4am

It included an address and phone number in San Diego, and she’d written her name, Miranda, on the bottom of the paper.

He stared at it for a moment, then put it into the pocket of his jeans. On the way out of the store, he stopped at the pet section, and picked out a toy mouse for Charley.

“...Oh, I’m definitely going as soon as I leave here. By tomorrow, the best buys will all be gone!” said a woman in front of him at the checkout.

“So the Volunteer Fireman do this rummage sale every year?” asked the cashier.

“Yeah, every second weekend in October. It helps raise money for the Halloween party they put on every year for the kids, as well as goes to buying Christmas gifts for needy kids, and helps pay for new equipment for the firemen.”

“Cool,” said the cashier. “What do they have?”

“Oh my...they have everything, sports stuff, clothes, furniture, books, TV’s, computers, you name it!”

“Darn, I could use a few new things. Well, newer in any case.”

“It starts tonight, and they’ll be open until midnight, if you get off work before it closes.”

“Yeah, I just might go. Is it at the station?”

“Well, it’s behind the station, in a big garage they have. Just turn left on Henderson; then follow the signs. You’ll probably see a bunch of cars going there, just follow them.”

“Thanks, maybe I will,” she said, finishing the transaction, before turning to William’s purchase.

“Is this it for you?” she asked, ringing up the mouse.

William nodded.

The cashier grinned, “So, are you going to the rummage sale, too?”

“I don’t know, wasn’t planning on it.”

“Wish I could, I hear they have some really good stuff,” she said wistfully. “Here you go, hope your kitty enjoys the toy.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking the sack.

As he walked to his car, William looked across the street at the big neon Bank of America clock. It was only a few minutes after nine, and he wasn’t exactly in a hurry to go home to his lonely apartment. Remembering about the rummage sale, and hoping he might find something he could bring home to occupy his time with, he headed over to Henderson Street.

William soon found himself in a queue of cars, obviously heading to the same place as he was. Three volunteer firemen were of the firehouse garage, to help with the parking. He was directed past the firehouse, up an unpaved street, where he finally found a spot two blocks away, when someone pulled out. He walked back to the firehouse, and took his place in line.

About five minutes later he was let in to the large, cavernous garage, given a half dozen, paper shopping bags, and a map. It was broken down into sections such as electronics, sports, clothing, books, housewares, and the like.

The place was packed with wall-to-wall people, all pushing and shoving as they tried to get to their destination. His self-consciousness over his hair was quickly forgotten, as nobody was paying any attention to anything but their own quest for bargains. Swallowing down the claustrophobic feelings that made him want to bolt, William forged ahead after first glancing around, and making sure he knew where the exits were.

The least populated area of the garage was the book section, which he headed for first. After about thirty minutes, and a bag and a half of books, he maneuvered his way over to the electronics section. The multitude of old computers, TV’s, printers, faxes, telephones, and everything else under the sun was almost as large as the Radio Shack he’d been to with Elizabeth before. He saw someone typing on a keyboard attached to a laptop, and stopped to ask about it.

The man assured him that lots of people used a regular keyboard and mouse at home with their laptops.

“As long as there are ports in the back?”

“Yep, that’s the main thing.”

“How much?”

“Five dollars each.”

“I’ll take ‘em.”

Next, he looked at the televisions. There was mini black and white 5” TV’s, all the way up to the huge 3’ screens; priced from $5.00 to $300.00. For his purposes, he chose a small 9” color TV that was only $7.00.

He paid for those items in the electronics department, and they told him if he was still looking, they would hold his items behind the counter with his name on them until he was ready to leave.

“Can I leave these here a while, too?” William asked, pointing to the books.

“We’re not supposed to...ah, what the heck, go ahead leave ‘em.”

“Thanks,” William answered, handing over the bags. Feeling much lighter, he went off to do some more browsing.

He stopped for a moment at the jewelry display, staring at the jumble of necklaces, earrings, rings, and bracelets. His thoughts unconsciously looking to match up certain pieces to Elizabeth and Dawn, and wondering how they’d like them.

“Looking to buy something for that special someone?” the woman behind the counter asked, just as William was reaching out to pick up a green and gold tennis bracelet that caught his eye; it’s color a perfect match for the top Elizabeth had worn at Christmas.

“Um...no, thanks anyway,” he said, jerking his hand back, brought out of his daydream. He beat a hasty retreat from the jewelry counter. It was yet another painful reminder of his current reality, one that didn’t include buying jewelry for the woman you love, but left, and her sister.

Looking ahead, he could see the masses huddled at least a half-dozen deep, in each clothing aisle. Deciding the best thing would be to collect his purchases from electronics, then pay for his books, he started to look for a way to circumvent the crowds. He looked behind him, but the way he’d just come from, had filled up with a larger mass of people than was facing him if he forged forward, and so he did. He skirted around the rows of women and children’s, luckily finding the men’s clothing aisle almost empty.

He slowed down, as he read the sign:

All Men’s Button Down & T-shirts: $ 0.50
Men’s Pants: 1.00
Jeans 2.00
Sweaters 1.00
Jackets 3.00
Coats 5.00

The prices were even better than they had been at the thrift store; “Well, won’t hurt to look as long as I’m here,” he told himself.

Fifteen minutes, and three bags full later, William had enough clothes to last him without having to do laundry every other day. He didn’t bother trying them on, figuring most would fit adequately enough. As he gathered his bags, and started towards the end of the aisle, something long, black, and hanging down almost to the floor caught his eye. Putting his bags down, he wrestled with the hanger that was tightly wedged between other hangers. Finally, he managed to wrench it free and pull it out.

The long, black, leather duster was in near perfect condition, with no tears, rips, or blemishes inside or out, that he could see. Cocking his head in puzzlement, he looked around wondering if it wasn’t there by some mistake. Looking up again to see if somehow he’d missed a separate sign for leather coats. No, all coats were listed under one price. There was no label inside to tell him, but it looked to be his size. Taking off the jacket he was wearing, and laying it on top of his bags, he took the black duster off the hanger, and shrugged into it.

The coat slipped on him like a second skin, and William was immediately struck with a not quite unpleasant sense of deja vu. The weight of the coat, the feel of the leather covering him made him feel the warmest he had in weeks; and the most right.

Finding no mirror, he reluctantly took it off, and put it back onto the hanger, buttoning it so it wouldn’t fall off. He had no intention of shoving his find into a bag to be wrinkled.

After retrieving his purchases and books from electronics, he awkwardly made his way up to the front of the store by pushing the bags of books with his feet, while holding onto the with other bags, and the duster. His stomach clenched a bit, when he handed the cashier the coat, sure she was going to eye him suspiciously at the very least, or claim there had been some mistake, but she rang it through with everything else.

“That’ll be $31.00 even,” she said.

“Okay,” William said, pulling the amount from his wallet.

He made his way outside, where luckily there were people stationed to watch over purchases, while the owners brought round their cars. William left all the bags at the curb, only taking the duster with him to retrieve his car. Pulling up, a man helped him load the bags into the trunk.

“Thanks for coming by, I hope you found some good bargains,” the man said.

“Quite good. Thank you,” William replied, smiling.

As soon as he returned home, and had brought his purchases upstairs, he went back to the main house to check up on Charley. The cat seemed pleased to see him this time, with no further hissing or hair standing straight up

“Just a little something to make up for earlier, hope you like it,” William said, giving him the toy mouse he’d bought. He played with the cat and the toy for a while, before returning to his apartment to put away his purchases.

Plugging in the small television, he was pleased to see that most of the channels came in decently enough, even without the benefit of an outside antenna or cable. Next, all the books, except for the one he planned on reading that night, were put into the small bookshelf he’d bought yesterday at the thrift store. He placed the extra keyboard and mouse, near the laptop, for whenever he decided to use it again. The bags of clothing were left downstairs in the laundry room, off of the garage.

Making himself a sandwich, he settled down in front of the little television, and started watching a history of jazz program on the local public television station. He tried to pay attention, but instead, found his mind wandering to the times him and Elizabeth would sit snuggled up on the couch watching some history or nature show. Patiently, she would fill-in-the-blanks of the common knowledge his memory didn’t contain, for him. Of course now, he understood why everything he had remembered had been from 1880 and before. However, when there was a show on something he was well versed in, he‘d do the same for her.

Sighing, he flipped the channel, watching the news for a while, then a talk show before turning it off. He tried to turn his attention to one of the books he’d bought, and once again found his attention diverted by his own thoughts.

The duster had been laid carefully over a chair when he’d come home. Picking it up, he unbuttoned it and removed it from the hanger, then put it on again. For the second time that night, he felt a sense of something niggling at him just under the surface of his consciousness. Again, there was an almost ‘guilty pleasure’ to the sensation. Pushing the question of why aside, he grabbed his keys and headed out.

END CHAPTER 161

CHAPTER 162 – A WILLIAM BY ANY OTHER NAME...

OCTOBER 11, 2009
SATURDAY
11:00PM
JULIAN

Bringing her tea with her, Buffy tried to settle down on the couch to watch something, anything on television.

“Not looking over there, not looking at the desk,” she told herself yet again, but two minutes later, like a moth to a flame, Buffy once again logged onto the computer, as she’d been doing almost hourly since hearing Dawn had talked to William last night. She’d been relieved that Dawn had talked to him, but what he’d said had left her both depressed and angry. At the moment, the former was prevailing.


‘You have 5 emails waiting to be sent,’ the AOL message told her.

She looked at the letters she’d written thus far to William.

FIRST LETTER:

Oct. 10, 2009
11:45pm

Dear William,

Dawn just told me she spoke to you. How can you think I’m relieved that you’re gone? I’m not relieved! I miss you! I’m worried about you! I love you!

I love you.

Please, call me or email me. I need to hear it from you that you’re alright.

Love always,

Elizabeth


SECOND LETTER:

Oct. 11, 2009
12:30am

Dear William,

Dawn just told me she spoke to you, and I was relieved. Not that you’re not here, but that now I know that you’re not lying on the side of a road dead somewhere!

How dare you think I’d be relieved otherwise?

Did the whole year we spent together mean nothing to you? Do you think I could fake loving you?

I may have lied to you about your past, but I never lied about my loving you!

Elizabeth


THIRD LETTER:

Oct. 11, 2009
3:00am

Dear William,

I can’t sleep. I keep hoping you’ll be back online now that I know that you’re somewhere with a computer (Dawn called me tonight after she spoke to you).

I was so relieved to hear that you were alright.

I am not relieved that you’re not here with me. I will NEVER be relieved about that. EVER.

But I need to hear it from you that you’re alright. Please, call me, write me, email me.

I need to hear from you.

I miss you.

Love,

Elizabeth


FOURTH LETTER:

October 11, 2009
4:45am

Dear William!

How dare you leave me for my own good, then think I’m relieved?

You’re an idiot if you can think this, believe this!

I hate you!

Me!

FIFTH LETTER:

October 11, 2009
12:00noon

Dear William,

I heard from Dawn that you IM’d with her. I was so glad to hear that you were alright.

I am NOT relieved that you’re gone.

I will NEVER be relieved, until you come back home.

I love you.

Please call me, write me, or email me. Preferably call.

I need to hear your voice.

I miss you.

I need you.

I love you.

Always,

Elizabeth



Buffy deleted all the others, and tried again.

SIXTH LETTER:

October 11, 2009
11:30pm

Dear William,

I don’t understand anything anymore, no matter how hard I try.

We love each other, yet we’re apart. At least, I still love you.

I know that you had a horrible thing happen to you, and you must feel a terrible injustice was done to you as well - by me, which made it all the worse.

I’m so sorry, William. I don’t want you to hate me. Please don’t hate me. You’ll never know how much it hurts me, to think that you may.

You trusted me, and I let you down, though I’d only wanted to protect you after you’d come back. I only wanted us to have a second chance to love each other. I wanted us to have a real chance to be happy, without having to fight the forces of darkness, or each other this time around.

Pretty much failed at that, didn’t I?

I know you don’t want to be here with me anymore, but please William, call me and let me know how you are. I just want to hear it from you.

If you can’t call, then please write or email.

Love always,

Elizabeth


Buffy pressed send.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

OCTOBER 11, 2009
SATURDAY
11:00PM
SAN MARCOS

He’d seen the bar a couple of times before when the university’s student lots had been all filled, and he’d had to park on one of the side streets. It was just a little pub, discreetly sitting between a couple of off-campus student apartment buildings. It was the sort of place that would mostly cater to the local clientele, a place to sit and unwind, flirt with the opposite sex, and get pleasantly smashed.

Luck was on his side, as he found a parking space only a block away and big enough for the DeSoto, when someone pulled out. The night air was cold, as he walked the block to the bar, but the duster blunted it just enough to make it feel comfortably cool. He smiled at his good fortune for having found it.

As he rounded the corner, he could already hear the thrum of the music coming from the bar. He stopped, shrugging his shoulders to adjust the coat a bit before entering. From the door, he could see a long bar off to the right side, a rather small dance floor to the left, and tables and booths in the middle. A huge fisherman’s net hung from the ceiling, containing various shells, starfish, and other sea life, and there were mounted fish on the walls.

As William stood there taking it all in, it only mildly registered that the momentary lull in the volume of conversations had to do with him, as the patrons checked out the newest arrival.

As he made his way to the bar, a large man stumbled into him, spilling some beer down his new coat and onto his shoes.

“Watch where you’re going!” William said, without thinking.

“Who do you think you’re talking to asshole?”

William gulped, as he looked up at the menacingly large man now glaring at him, thinking that his face was suddenly going to get awfully familiar with the man’s meaty fist.

William’s eyes narrowed, and he clenched his jaw as his body tensed, waiting for what surely was about to follow this exchange, when the man suddenly seemed to change his mind.

“Um...hey man, I’m sorry, okay? I wasn’t watching where I was going,” he said, grabbing some napkins off a nearby table, despite their loud protests of those sitting there, then proceeded, to William’s astonishment, to wipe the beer off of his coat.

“There, how’s that? Are we good now?” the man asked, venturing a small, nervous smile.

William only nodded dumbly, as he walked to the bar and found a seat.

“What’ll it be?” asked the bartender.

“Jack...um...sorry, Guinness draught,” William said, deciding he’d be better off drinking something less likely to get him drunk, since he was driving.

William handed him a five, when the bartender came with his drink, but he refused it; “The man over there, said it was on him,” he said, pointing to a nearby table. William followed the man’s finger until he saw the man who had bumped into him. The man held up his drink, tipping it towards him in mock salute, and William did the same.

Shaking his head, he took a long pull from his beer, looking into the bar’s mirror, watching the action behind him. A dangerous looking man wearing all black, with a shock of platinum hair gazed back.

He stared hard until a bitterly amused smirk replaced the wide-eyed disbelief on his face, as it dawned on him just why, he’d been the recipient of nervous looks, apologies, and a free drink.

A harsh laugh erupted from William, causing those nearby to look towards him, but he paid them no mind. Almost mockingly, it seemed that by his looking more like Spike, the very thing he’d been running from, he was now getting something he’d rarely ever been able to get on his own, especially of late. Respect.

He downed the beer, and ordered another one, insisting on paying for his own this time around.

“Three dollars, or do you want me to run a tab?” asked the bartender, setting down the beer, and taking the empty glass.

“Tab’s fine,” answered William. He had no other place he needed to be, no place at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1:30am

“Be back,” he told the bartender, excusing himself.

“I hate this fucking town!” he heard a familiar voice, as the door to the restroom swung open. He stiffened, as he came face to face with Tommy and Ralph, who were exiting. They stared at him for a moment, before stepping aside to let him enter.

Tommy looked at Ralph, “Dude, who was that? He looked familiar.”

Ralph shrugged, “Never saw him before.”

“No, I think I know him from somewhere.”

“Do you care? You want a date or something?” Ralph asked, grinning.

“Fuck you!”

William’s heart was pounding and he let out a sigh of relief, realizing that they hadn’t recognized him. He finished up and went back out to the bar, hoping that they wouldn’t be anywhere around.

Unfortunately, they were standing not too far from where he took his seat. He saw Tommy glance over at him a few times, then look away.

“Another Guinness?”

“That’ll be...” William started to say normally, then cleared his throat. “Make it a Jack Daniels, on the rocks,” he said, disguising his true voice in a much more working class accent.

The bartender gave him a strange look, but didn’t say anything.

“Think I’ll pay my tab now,” he said, when the drink came, “how much do I owe you?”

“Twelve dollars.”

William gave him a ten and a five, and motioned for him to keep the change. The bartender gave a short nod, and went off to wait on other customers.

As he drank, he kept glancing at the mirror to see where Tommy and Ralph were, and was glad to see that they’d disappeared from view. He finished up the drink, and decided to leave by the back door, which he’d noticed when he’d visited the restroom earlier.

The backdoor opened up onto a small deck, probably used a lot during the summer, but now deserted, or so he thought. As William started towards the rear gate, which led to the alley, he heard a scuffling off to the right side of the deck, which was in darkness, but the voice was unmistakable.

“Come on Alison, I you know still want me,” the voice said, as bodies banged into the deck’s railing.

“Stop it Tommy! I told you it was over,” said an angry female voice.

“Why, because I’m not a college boy anymore?” he said, as he pushed his body against hers that much harder.

“No, because you’re an idiot!”

A loud slap, followed by a cry made William flinch, but he steered himself and started toward the darkened corner.

“It’s over when I say it’s over slut! Grab her arms Ralph! It’s time I teach this bitch a lesson!”

Ralph’s back was to him, as William whipped him around, quickly dropping him to the deck with a sucker’s punch. He then turned his attention to Tommy, “I believe the lady asked you to leave her alone,” William said, willing his voice to be as steely on the outside, as his heart was pounding on the inside.

Tommy viciously pushed Alison away from him, as he glared at William. She stumbled and fell against the railing a few feet away, her eyes fearful as she looked from William to Tommy.

“I know you, don’t I? Who are you?”

William pulled himself up as tall as he could, “Name’s Spike,” he said in a cold voice, “and you don’t know me, but I know you.”

“That right?” Tommy asked, as he started advancing towards William. “Well, when I’m done with you, there won’t be anything left of you to know!”

With that, he charged. William, although drunk, easily dodged his punch, causing the man to stumble forward to the other side of the deck. By the time he turned around, William was ready for him, and landed a hard blow to his face, causing Tommy to fall. He was on his feet in a minute, and launched himself anew into William. A crowd had gathered, as the two men fell onto the deck, and proceeded to pummel each other. By now, Ralph had gotten up, and tried to get into the fight, but others held him back.

Tommy fought hard, but William fought harder, landing the most blows, and managing to get to his feet.

“Get up you coward!” he said, stepping back as Tommy struggled to get to his knees.

The crowd cheered him on, yelling for him to punch him while he had the chance, but William wouldn’t do it, not while he was down. He wanted Tommy to know just who was going to come out on top of this fight, fair and square.

Tommy rose, staggering to his feet, trying to land a blow to his opponent’s stomach, which William neatly dodged. The next one took, or so his opponent thought, when William doubled over, gasping for air. A leer plastered on Tommy’s face, his knee came up, just as William rose, stepped back, and delivered a bone crunching left hook to Tommy’s face. Tommy went down, and it was over.

William bent over the barely conscious Tommy, who held his hands over his nose moaning, and grabbed him by the collar, “Don’t you ever let me see you here or any other place in this town again, you got it, you tosser?” he hissed at him.

Tommy nodded.

“What was that?” William said, pulling his fist back.

Tommy flinched, “Okay! Please! No more, I got it! Please!”

William smirked, and pushed him back as he released his hold on him.

Some of the patrons went to Tommy’s side, even as a round of applause went up for William. Some of them patting him on the back, as he suddenly sagged as the adrenaline surge went out of him.

Alison stood off at a distance with the friends that had surrounded her, watching and waiting. “Excuse me,” she said to them, when the crowd around William had thinned out.

He had his back to her, when she put her hand on his arm. “I...I wanted to thank you,” she stammered, as he turned to face her.

He shook his head, “No need; don’t like to see any man hurt a lady,” he said, turning away.

“But I know who you are!”

William stiffened, and turned back to face her, but didn’t say anything.

“What I mean, is that I’m so sorry about what happened that day in the cafeteria, and later in front of my dorm. I always knew in my gut that Tommy was a bully, but I didn’t want to believe it, know what I mean?”

She continued when William didn’t say anything, “Love is like that...it makes you hide the truth from yourself, and only believe what you want to believe. But the day him and Ralph beat you up, I broke up with him. I...I just wanted you to know that, and to thank you for tonight. You didn’t have to come to my aid, you didn’t...”

William put his hand on her arm, “It’s alright. Really. I didn’t hold you responsible for what those stupid gits did to me,” he said, his voice low.

She let out a sigh of relief, “Thank you; for everything.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, releasing her arm. She gave him a small smile, then went back into the bar with her friends.

Tommy had been carted off by his friends, and soon afterwards, almost everyone else drifted back inside. William, more than ready to leave, started for the alley. Just as he reached the gate, a voice stopped him.

“Pretty good fighting skills you got there, William.”

William turned around to see the woman he’d met earlier in the drug store.

“Thanks...”

“Miranda,” she said with a smile. She looked back towards the door, then discretely pulled a flask out of her purse, offering it to him.

“Miranda,” William echoed, accepting the flask and taking a long gulp, as he eyed her, curiously. The liquor burned on the way down, but he didn’t mind; he welcomed it.

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?” she asked, taking a drink herself, before passing it back to William.

“I used to spar with my...” he stopped, realizing how it might sound to say that he’d learned to fight best when sparring with another woman, even if that woman had been The Slayer. He doubted Miranda had ever heard of a slayer, “friends.”

“I see. Well, you did real well; that kid had a good ass-kicking coming to him. Scumbag tried to force himself on me one night as I was walking home. I kicked him in the balls!” she said, grinning. “Never bothered me again!”

“Wanker!”

“Yeah, whatever you said!”

He grinned back, taking another drink.

“Look William, I got to get back to my ‘posse’ inside, but I just wanted to let you know that you did good. Also, if you’re interested, I might be able to offer you a job at the bar I work at.”

“Doing what?” William asked, surprised.

“Not sure, why don’t you come by and I’ll see if we can fix you up.”

“I don’t know,” William said, shaking his head, “I don’t think so.”

She shrugged, “It’s up to you, but seriously, I could use another pair of hands, arms, eyes, whatever. I think you’d like it. Anyway, if you’re interested, you’ve got the address, right?”

William nodded, “Yes, I still have it,” he said, trying to hand her back the flask.

“You keep it, I have more. Consider it a reward from a fan,” she said winking, as she turned to go back into the bar.

“By the way,” she said, turning back towards him, “I see the ‘look’ is working out for you. Oh, and love the name, too. Spike,” she said, winking once more, before disappearing inside.

William stared after her dumbfounded for the second time that night, then walked to his car.

Although he was beginning to ache from the punches he’d received that night, he was still a bit giddy as he let himself into his apartment and got ready for bed. He couldn’t help grinning, as he thought of Tommy. For once, he’d prevailed over a bully, and it had felt great!

Not just prevailed, he’d beaten the crap out of him!

Still in good humor, he turned on the light in the bathroom to wash up, and saw himself in the mirror once again. Though not shocked any longer, the smirk faded as he studied his face, sobering up. It was still his face, bruises and all, yet there was something different about it; less innocent perhaps; or maybe it was deeper than that.

Innocent, now that’s a concept whose time has surely passed, he thought, snorting. His hands came up, as he brushed his hair back from his forehead, and winced as some pulled away from a cut near his hairline, causing it to start bleeding a bit. He hadn’t even noticed it until then. Glad for the distraction from any further troubling thoughts, he concentrated on cleaning it up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting on the side of the bed, he set the clock to make sure he’d wake up on time to feed Charley. As he did, he glanced at Elizabeth’s necklace and ring, and his fingers ghosted over them for a moment, before turning off the lamp.

Sighing, he put his hands behind his head, staring up at the darkness. Soon he was asleep, dreaming of innocent looking faces, which hid the monsters underneath.

END CHAPTER 162
 

CHAPTER 163 – THE NEW ME

OCTOBER 15, 2009
WEDNESDAY
8:00PM

“Good to be home, isn’t it?” Professor Wittman said, as he put the suitcases down by the door.

Ingrid smiled fondly at him, “Very,” she said, patting him on the arm, knowing that these trips to the clinic were as hard on him, as they were on her.

“Hello Charley! How have you been old boy? William treat you well while we were gone?” Richard asked.

The cat purred in response, rubbing against both of his owner’s legs.

“He’s just fine,” Ingrid said, bending over to pick him up. She walked into the living room with Charlie, pulling the cord on the drapes back.

“Who is that Richard?”

“Who’s who?” the professor asked, walking over towards her.

Ingrid pointed to a man with a black coat and blonde hair walking up the driveway, and starting towards William’s apartment.

“I’ll go find out,” he replied, frowning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Excuse me,” the professor said, as he hurriedly walked towards the man; “can I help you?”

William turned around, and smiled, “Oh, hello Professor, you’re home early. How was your trip?”

“My...? William is that you?” the professor asked, looking at him puzzled.

“Um...yeah, it’s me,” William replied, embarrassed as it dawned on him why the professor was asking.

“Oh...I didn’t recognize you,” he said, recovering from his shock. Still, he glanced over at the DeSoto, as if to reassure himself that the person in front of him, and the owner, were indeed one and the same.

William folded the top over the bag he was carrying to conceal its contents, then walked over to the professor.

“Guess I needed a bit of a change, though wasn’t sure I was looking for something quite as radical,” he said, shrugging.

The professor looked at him thoughtfully before slowly nodding.

“How was your trip? How’s Mrs. Wittman?” William asked, changing the subject.

“Oh, she’s doing well. Her cancer is in remission, as for the other problem, they won’t know the results until sometime next week. That’s why they sent us home early.”

“That’s great news! As for the other tests, I’m sure they’ll all turn out...”

Ingrid had opened the door between the house and garage. On hearing their voices just outside, she hit the garage door remote on the wall. As it lifted and the men came into view, her mouth fell open as she stared at William, wide-eyed.

“Ach du lieber!” she finally said, lapsing into her native German.

William blushed, realizing why she was staring.

“It’s our William,” said the professor, motioning toward him with one hand, while nodding towards her with the other.

William walked up to her slowly, his head down, until he was right in front of her, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m...I’m fine,” she said, looking at him from top to bottom, and shaking her head.

“Shocked you, did I?”

“You did,” she readily agreed. “What on earth possessed you...?”

“Ingrid!” Richard scolded gently. “Leave the boy alone.”

“That’s alright; it’s a fair question. Years ago, before I lost my memory that is, I used to look like this. Guess I just wanted to know what it might feel like to look like this again.”

Ingrid stood there, still shaking her head. Stopping, she looked him in the eyes, as if trying to ascertain something, until feeling naked under her scrutiny, William looked away.

“And how does it feel?” she asked him softly.

William paused for a moment before answering. “I don’t quite know yet; guess I’m still working it out.”

She nodded slowly.

“Well, guess I’ll be getting back to the house,” Richard said. “Charley looks well, the rascal didn’t give you any trouble, did he?”

“Not at all, we got along fine. Though, he did a bit of what you two did just now, when he first saw the ‘new’ me,” William chuckled.

“I’m not surprised,” the professor said. “Well, good-night then. Thanks for looking out for him.”

“Was glad to; we kept each other company.”

The professor walked back into the house through the garage. William nodded, then went to retrieve his bag. As he straightened up, he felt her hand on his arm, and turned to look at her.

“Don’t lose yourself, or hide behind this, William,” she said, her gaze sweeping over him, her kindly eyes imploring him.

“I...I won’t,” he said, swallowing, his mouth suddenly gone dry.

She released his arm, nodding. “Good-night, William.”

“Good-night, Mrs. Wittman.”

“Ingrid,” she said, smiling gently at him.

“Ingrid, then,” he said, nodding.

“It’ll all work out William. You’ll see,” she said, as she walked back into the garage.

He stood there staring after her, until the door came down.

“Wish that I could believe that,” he said softly, before walking up to his apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

8:30PM

Since the night of his fight with Tommy, he’d laid low, only going to the corner store for a frozen can of orange juice, milk, and another bottle of Jack Daniels. It was becoming a good friend lately, the kind that let him forget all about the things that he couldn’t face, and his loneliness. At least for a while.

Now, full of nervous energy, and strangely unsettled from the encounter with the Wittmans, William took out the bottle he’d just purchased, and poured himself a shot into the remains of his ‘morning’ tea. Distractedly, he stared at some stupid Survivor show on the television. He scoffed, as some of the tribe members whined and complained to the cameras on how they were wasting away from the lack of protein, unless they ate bugs. And oh, the hardship of having to make do with trying to open a can of beans by bashing it with a rock, blah, blah...

“Try surviving the Hellmouth for years like Elizabeth did, like Dawn did, like all of them did, then talk to me about real surviving. Let’s see any of you tossers take that on!”

He glanced towards the floor where the laptop still sat, ever since running into Dawn online the other night. He reached for it, then hesitated; "This is stupid, it's going to bite you," he said, berating himself.

“Welcome! You’ve got mail!” the computer’s automated voice told him as soon as he logged on.

He glanced towards it, figuring it was just the old mail, but then saw the email from Elizabeth. Moving the mouse to open it, William watched in consternation, as it scurried all over the screen, like when he’d first learned how to use one. He lifted up his hand, and looked at it; it was trembling. With effort, he brought it under control, and clicked on her letter.

"Oh no luv, no," he mumbled, as her pain, not relief filled words, seared him in their simplicity.

He grabbed the bottle and took a long drink, closing his eyes for a moment, before hitting the reply button.

15 Oct. 2009

Dearest Elizabeth,

You’re not alone in the not understanding anything anymore, luv. I don’t either, but I need to – that’s why I had to go.

Please don’t think that I don’t love you still, I do. I always will. I just don’t know if that’s enough right now, or even fair that I do.

I don’t hate you, Elizabeth. Please don’t ever think that; I could never hate you.

What’s done is done. I know you tried to protect me, and while I may disagree with you and everyone not telling me, I know why you did it.

You didn’t make me what I was, so I can’t see that the failure is yours at all.

Believe me, it’s not that I don’t want to be there with you!

But doesn’t really matter what I want; we have to do what’s best, yeah?

I’m okay. You don’t need to worry about me. I saw Lawrence, as you probably already know, so I now have my money to use. I’m not living in my car, or on the street, so you can rest easy on that account.

Yours always,

William

Setting the computer aside, he rose from the couch, and paced restlessly around the apartment before walking into the bedroom. Digging through the pile of clothes, which had been collecting on the floor, he found the pair of jeans he was looking for. Checking the pocket, he pulled out the yellow neon flyer that Miranda had given him.

He unfolded it, and looked at the information. Catching his attention was the part reading: Poetry Slam, nightly 10:00pm. Now through Halloween ! He wasn’t sure what that was, but since it mentioned poetry, it must be a fairly civilized place he figured. Though he wasn’t quite so sure that he could stand to hear sad or evocative verse, anything would be better than going stir crazy here another night. He checked his watch; he could easily make it by the time it started, even if it was an hour away.

“Except you don’t know where you’re going, you git!”

He thought about calling Miranda for directions, but quickly decided against that, instead he tried the printed number on the flyer. After a dozen or so rings someone answered. William tried to ask for directions from San Marcos, but all he could hear was that the person couldn’t make out what he was saying; then the line went dead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

9:00PM

“I just wanted to bring this by,” Professor Wittman said, as William opened up his apartment door. He held out a map to William.

“Oh, thanks a lot, and I took your suggestion and got the directions from Mapquest, but I’m sure the map will help. I’ll get it back to you tomorrow.”

“No, you keep this one, I have another somewhere.”

“Thanks, Professor, I appreciate it.”

“Have a good night,” the professor said, and headed back down the stairs with a wave.

William shoved the map into one of the duster’s long pockets, then tore off the page of his notebook with the directions he’d written down. Grabbing his keys, he headed out the door.

END CHAPTER 163

CHAPTER 164 – IPSO FACTO

OCTOBER 31, 2009
FRIDAY
7:00PM

Buffy rolled over towards the now all-too-empty space between her and the clock on the night table and groaned. Why couldn't she have just slept until tomorrow? As much as Buffy tried to avoid it all the previous years, this year was impossibly hard.

Halloween.

Monsters, ghosts, and everyone's all time favorite - vampires.

Although, gratefully, Montessori didn't go in for the big Halloween parties like public schools did, and didn't allow the children to wear costumes to school. Neither was it like the multi-cultural holiday curriculum that she was expected to teach. Still, it was ever present this time of year, and couldn’t be totally ignored. And so, there were pumpkins, history, and of course, stories. Even though she encouraged non-scary type books as choices, the kids would inevitably check those out of the library to take home. Last year, when William worked there, she had to veto his choice to read to the class. It was a book about Bram Stoker, which included excerpts from Dracula. Nothing like hitting close to home.

When it came to reading Halloween books to the students, she deferred to Lily. Throughout the years, her assistant came to realize that it wasn't just that she was given the task because she really enjoyed Halloween, as much as Elizabeth had some deep seated reason for avoiding doing so herself.

The proverbial last straw had come yesterday. Her class had just returned from the all purpose room, having seen a special Halloween program put on by students from the local High School theater department. She had excused Katie to go to the office, when she'd complained about a stomachache, and noticed she hadn't returned when they'd come back to the classroom. About to go to the office to check on her, she found her sitting on the floor next to the student's coat hooks.

"Are you waiting for your mom to pick you up?" Buffy asked her, wondering why the office hadn't let her know.

Katie shook her head no.

Buffy waited.

"I talked to her, she can't leave work," Katie said, miserably.

"I’m sorry, but the day's almost over, and before you know it, you’ll be going home. If you don’t feel well enough to do anymore work today, you can go and lie down in the loft until then."

"Okay," Katie said.

"Maybe you could take one of those new Halloween books that Mrs. D. has been reading with you.”

Katie shook her head violently, bursting out into tears.

"Katie, what is it?" Buffy asked, kneeling down.

"I hate it!"

"What? What do you hate?"

"Halloween!" Katie said, as big fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

Buffy smiled at her, as she put her hand on her shoulder, "Can I tell you a secret?"

Katie nodded, sniffling.

"I hate it, too,” Buffy said.

“Really? Why do you hate it?"

"Monsters; I don't like monsters very much. How about you?"

Katie nodded vigorously.

"Everybody else thinks I'm just stupid, or a scardy cat," Katie said, "but that's not it!"

"Well, I don't think you're stupid or a scardy cat. I think you're brave," Buffy said, smiling at Katie.

"You do?"

"Of course. It's a very brave thing to be true to yourself, and to follow what your own instincts are telling you," Buffy said, “sometimes that’s the hardest thing of all.”

"Do you...?"

"Do I what?" Buffy asked.

Katie hesitated, "Do you believe in monsters and vampires?" Katie asked, her lip trembling a bit.

Buffy stared at her, wondering the best way to answer that. “I think that there are things in the world that only a few, special people are allowed to be aware of,” she said carefully.

Katie regarded her solemnly, before letting out a deep breath.

“I dream of those things sometimes,” she said.

“I do, too.”

“I’m afraid they’ll hurt me,” Katie whispered, eyes downcast.

Buffy took her gently by the shoulders. “I won’t let them hurt you, or anyone you know. I promise you that,” she said, looking into the girl’s eyes.

Katie stared at her for a moment, before nodding. It seemed to satisfy her for now. A weight had been lifted off her young shoulders that someone, not only acknowledged her fears, but the possibility of the existence of monsters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thankfully, students and teachers had the next day off. The unsettling exchange with Katie, plus thoughts of both William, and her whole slayer past, had kept her up until morning. She’d spent some of the night on the computer, hoping to find him online, but it wasn’t to be.

Picking up the paper she’d printed out, she unfolded it, and once more read his email. Sighing, Buffy rolled back over, hugging William’s pillow to her, as she tried to avoid her real and very lonely world for a little while longer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NOVEMBER 13, 2009
THURSDAY
LOS ANGELES
9:00AM

"Hey, can you get those beer mugs down for me?" Miranda asked William, pointing to a carton at the top of a storage shelf.

"Sure, guess we need some more after last night, eh?" he answered, a smirk on his face, as he tossed the last dustpan full of broken glass into the garbage can.

Miranda rolled her eyes at him. There had been a bit more than the usual Friday night melee at the bar last night when a drunken Gark ‘lak demon came in, looking for a good time and a bit of random violence. Luckily, the demon was wasted enough to be at less than full strength, and William wasn’t so drunk, as to be able to take care of him without much trouble, or personal injuries.

Not that half the glassware in the place hadn’t been destroyed in the process, before he and some of the patrons were able to get the demon outside into the alley, where he was 'dispatched' of properly.

William got a small stepladder from the corner, situating it in front of the shelves, then lifting the heavy carton down. He ignored Miranda's outstretched hands, and took it to the bar for her. Handing him a utility knife, he cut open the top of the carton, and started to put the new beer mugs into the sink.

"Don't bother with that, just put them up; they're clean enough," she said with a grin.

"Okay," he replied, shrugging. They'd just spent the last five hours cleaning up the mess, and if there was one less thing to do, who was he to argue? Besides that, he was there to bartend and ‘bounce' rowdy customers, both human and demon; fighting germs wasn't in his job description.

"Why don't I do that, you look all done in, and you have to open at four," she suggested.

"I'm alright for a while," he said, stifling a yawn, "but if you want to hand 'em to me, it'll go faster."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Well, that's it," Miranda said, wiping her hands on a bar towel. "Thanks, Spike."

"Welcome," he answered, barely giving her calling him that, a second thought. At first, it had felt weird for Miranda and everyone else at the bar to be calling him Spike, even if he’d been the one who had first used it, when he'd run into Tommy and his friend again. He'd unwittingly discovered that there was a sort of power, in both the name and the look, which he’d been without. William had stood naked for the whole world to see, in his innocence, naivete, goodness, and all too many vulnerabilities. Spike - both the name, and the look, cloaked those; or so he thought.

He took down two shot glasses, and poured Jack Daniels into each of them, "One for the road?" he asked, handing Miranda one.

"Why not?"

They clinked glasses, and downed the shots.

"G' night then. See you when you come on later," he said, grabbing his duster from one of the stools before taking the towel he’d been using off of his shoulder, and throwing it onto the bar as he walked away.

"Unless you'd like to see me now," she said coyly.

He looked back at her, a small smile quirking at the corner of his mouth, "Know I can't do that, luv. Not that it's not a generous offer..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Heart belongs to another, man with a past, yadda, yadda, yadda. Go to bed Spike, all by yer lonesome; get some sleep."

"G' night," he said again, grinning.

William walked through a door next to the bar, which led to the grill, unlocking a small door leading to the basement, and let himself in. The basement was larger than most, but pretty typical in other ways, containing the usual; water heater, washer/dryer, furnace, sink etc.

However, off to one corner of the basement, there was a small, darkly paneled, windowless room containing a single bed, dresser, and bathroom. It was also what he called home for the past month, ever since he’d agreed to accompany Miranda in helping manage their other bar, Ipso Facto, Too, in Los Angeles.

It had been easier to take up temporary residence in the bar’s basement, while still keeping his apartment in San Marcos, rather than spending 2-3 hours a day driving back and forth, especially after he’d been drinking. He’d only been back to his apartment twice, to get some other clothes. Psychologically, and physically, it was just too close to what he wanted to forget. Better all around this way.

Using another key, he let himself into his small room. Pitch black, he counted out ten steps to the middle of the room, reached up and around, until he felt his hand make contact with dirty light cord. He pulled it, and the barren room was flooded with a harsh, yellow light. Nothing, save for his pile of clothes, could belie that the room belonged to anyone. If the apartment he rented from the Wittman's had been minimal in conveying William’s personality, in comparison, it was a veritable Rorschach Inkblot Test.

William took the flask out of the inner pocket of his duster, before laying it over the top of the dresser, and turning the light back off. Still in his clothes, he flopped down on the bed, pulling the thin, useless blanket over himself. Not even bothering to try to find sleep on his own, he uncapped the flask, and took a long drink, hoping that when sleep did come, it would be without nightmares or dreams. He didn’t want either anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FOUR WEEKS AGO

It hadn’t taken long for him to figure out that Poetry Slam had nothing at all to do with poetry. Getting off the highway near downtown, he recognized the neighborhood as one him and Elizabeth had to detour through, on their way to meet Dawn and John last spring.

The old, quiet neighborhood had seen better days. Half the buildings were either abandoned, or in need of repair. Still, there was something wistful about the old, colorful wood sided houses, with their sagging roofs, and missing shutters. Here and there, a hopeful little garden stood, not knowing it was out of place in its surroundings.

William turned south on Front Street and followed it to Ash Street, and turned west to the waterfront. Only a house stood here and there the closer he got; then gave way to plain lots, and industrial looking buildings. At the corner of Ash and N. Harbor Drive there was a small parking lot, across from Ipso Facto.

A bouncer wearing a nametag that identified him as Mike, stopped him at the door, “Who sent you?” he asked, giving him the once over.

“Sent me?” William asked, confused.

“Yeah, how’d you find out about this place?”

“Um...Miranda.”

The bouncer took a walkie-talkie out of his pocket and said something into it, which William couldn’t make out, over the loud, blaring music. A few minutes later Miranda appeared at the door.

“Spike,” she said, extending her hand, “glad you decided to make it. Come in, and I’ll show you around.” She gave a thumbs-up to Mike, as she took William’s arm, leading him inside.

“I just came to hear the Poetry Slam, and have a drink; that’s all,” he said cautiously.

“Sure, sure. Well, they just started up, so you haven’t missed much.”

“Who started up?” William asked, confused.

“Poetry Slam. Isn’t that the band you said you came to hear?”

William’s eyes widened as it dawned on him what she was talking about. He shook his head, “Thought it was something else,” he said, feeling quite foolish.

“You thought it was...? Oh no!” she said, laughing.

“I should just go,” William said, embarrassed. He turned and started towards the door, but Miranda’s hand held him fast.

“I insist on buying you a drink, Spike. That way you won’t have come all this way for nothing, at least.”

“That’s not necessary, really. I’ll just be going...”

“Stay for a while. It’s not a bad place, and I promise I won’t bite.”

He hesitated a minute, looking around. The place was big, darkly lit, and decorated for the upcoming holiday he supposed, with strings of little orange lights. The music was frenzied, as were the dancers on the floor in front of the stage where the band played. To William, they looked more like they were doing some sort of a primitive ritual, rather than dancing.

Still, it was a place to lose oneself in, and it was either that, or back to his lonely apartment.

“Okay,” he said, and let Miranda lead him to the bar.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Somehow, she’d convinced him to come back the following night to try his hand at bartending when her regular had to go out of town on a family emergency. He’d told her that he would only do it for that night, and only because he needed something to do with his time, which didn’t include just sitting around his apartment and feeling sorry for himself.

Although he didn’t feel very social, he found that the bar patrons didn’t want anything from him except to fill their requests quickly, and keep them plied with liquor.

When a fight would inevitably break out sometime during the course of the night, he found himself jumping over the bar to be right in the thick of things. Along with Mike, they were usually able to take care of any problems before they got out of hand.

Although, as the days passed he’d some inkling, it wasn’t until a couple of weeks later that he truly noticed that things, or rather some of the patrons, as would be more apt, weren’t exactly as they seemed. It started when a pale, dark haired woman, had come up to the bar, asking for a shot of absinthe.

“Don’t think they serve that stuff anymore, can I get you somethin’ else?” he asked, while noting something off about her, and not just the off the shoulder, floor length red dress, which despite it being Halloween night, just somehow seemed out of place.

“Under the bar, second shelf down, on the right,” she’d replied, a practiced look of boredom on her face.

He glanced at her briefly, then looked under the bar. It was right where she said it would be; “Guess you were right,” he said, with a small grin.

“They keep it for my kind.”

“And what kind would that be, luv?”

She smiled in response, eyes yellowing, and fangs descending, showing him just what her kind was.

William’s eyes hardened and his knuckles whitened, as they gripped the bar tightly. His pulse raced, as a surge of adrenaline pumped through him, his body preparing for flight or fight. Noticeably, he jumped when he felt Miranda’s hand on his back.

“Hello, Lillian. Behaving yourself?” Miranda asked, taking the bottle and pouring a large sifter full, before handing it to the woman.

“You know I always behave here, Miranda,” Lillian said easily, her countenance sliding back to her human face easily.

“That’s what I like to hear. This is Spike, my new bartender. I don’t want you or your friends to give him any trouble, got it?”

Lillian nodded slowly, “Spike is it? Think I heard of you,” she said, near-black eyes looking him up and down.

“That right?” he asked coldly, as he tried to mask his rising fear. “In that case, probably heard I know how to use a stake quite well then, too.”

She made a small hissing sound, then turned on her heels and headed away from the bar.

William grabbed Miranda’s arm, and pulled her into the kitchen area, “What the hell is this?” he asked, his voice rising.

“What do you mean? Lillian? She’s a vampire, you obviously know that much.”

“What the...? You serve them drinks here? They’re your customers?”

“Some vamps and other sorts wander in from time to time. Most of them don’t cause any trouble, so we don’t bother with them,” she said, shrugging. “Besides, their money’s still green”

“But they’re demons!” he said, disbelieving what he was hearing.

“Yeah, so what? I’ve seen many of them acting much better than the humans in here.”

“So, what? Because they have money, and God knows from what sources, it doesn’t matter if they’re soulless monsters and murderers? You let 'em just come here, and look for their next warm meal?" William asked, as he glared at her, loathing coming off him in waves.

"They don't do that, it's one of the rules. We allow them in here, and they don't cause any trouble for anyone."

"Let me get this straight, it's alright with you if they're killers, as long as they don't kill off this establishment's cash cows? But if they go somewhere else and kill, that's alright?" he asked, his voice bitter.

"That's not what I mean, you know that..." Miranda said, trying to maintain her composure.

William scoffed.

“Let me guess, the only good demon is a dead demon?” Miranda asked, her fingers tapping the coins on her belly-dancing skirt of her costume.

“Only if they stay that way,” William retorted under his breath, thinking of the pain his life and unlife had caused himself, Elizabeth, not to mention, countless others.

“What was that?”

“Somethin’ like that,” he said tersely.

“Look Spike, I don’t think that all...no, strike that! I know that not all demons are cold-blooded killers, like you obviously think they are. I’ve worked here a long time, and I can tell you, I’ve seen things that you wouldn’t believe... Or maybe you would, considering you seem to know a few things about things that go bump in the night yourself. Let’s just say if I had to choose between the human cold-blooded killers, which have been in here on occasion, or demons, I’d much rather deal with the demon variety. At least, unlike their human counterparts, they’re usually up front about what and who they are!”

“You make it sound as if they’re all noble or something.”

“I don’t think they’re all noble, as you put it,” she said evenly.

“Good, because that would just be naive, and let me tell you something, they’re not all noble by any stretch, luv,” he said, glaring at her.

“That’s interesting coming from you Spike. What’s your story, by the way? Why has Lillian heard of you?”

“Bugger this!” William said angrily, and turned to walk towards the door leading back to behind the bar.

“Wait! Spike, I’m sorry,” Miranda said, hurrying after him, grabbing the arm of his coat.

“Don’t matter, I can’t do this!”

“Because of them?”

He nodded.

“Tell you what, if you want, you can tell any or all of the demons that they’re no longer welcome here. I’ll have Mike back you up, how’s that?”

“Not my place to tell anyone or anything, where they can or can’t be; I’ll just go...”

“No, seriously. The owners and I discussed doing this from time to time, just wasn’t any need, seeing that nobody seemed particularly upset that they wandered in once in a while.”

He looked at her skeptically.

“Really,” she said.

“Yeah, just what I need, a bunch of demons pissed off at me.”

“Just tell them to go, most of them won’t put up a fight, and if they do, just take ‘em out back and deal with ‘em.”

“Yeah, what happens when their friends hear ‘bout it, and want revenge?”

She shrugged. “We’ll deal I guess, but it’s not like the Hellmouth. Not nearly as many demons here, as there is in those places.”

“How do you know about the Hellmouth?” he asked, suspiciously.

“How do you?” she countered.

They stared at each other for a few moments, at an impasse.

“So, you’ll stay?” she said, breaking the silence.

“Give it a try, all I can promise.”

“All I can ask,” Miranda said, as they walked back out to the bar. She looked up and down the bar, then back to William.

“If you’re serious, you could start with him,” Miranda said, pointing behind him to the loose skinned demon who was waiting to be served.

William turned around, shock registering on his face; “Clem?”

The demon shook his head, “Marlong.”

“Oh, sorry,” as he tried to regain his composure, “you reminded me of someone I know...”

“Right, and we all look the same, is that it?”

William just shook his head.

“Gimme a pitcher of draft,” Marlong said, breaking off the small talk.

“Yeah, sure,” William said, filling up the pitcher, then handing it to him.

Marlong threw some bills on the bar, and wandered off into the crowd, as William stared after him. He felt Miranda come up next to him. He ignored her.

“Not as easy as you thought it was going to be?”

“He reminded me of someone; an old friend,” William said.

Miranda looked at William with renewed interest, “You don’t say? Not always as cut and dried is it?” she persisted.

“Guess not,” he admitted. “So, did we get that delivery today, you were waiting on?” he asked, changing the subject.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NOVEMBER 14, 2009
FRIDAY
2:00PM
SAN MARCOS

Listlessly, Buffy stood in line waiting to register for a class that she needed to take this winter. She had five years to obtain her Master’s degree, after getting her Bachelor’s in Elementary Education. She’d put it off all month, and now the cutoff was today. Lucky for her, the kids only had a half-day, so she’d come after school had let out.

Not that she really cared about much of anything at this point, but this particular class was only offered once every three years, so she pushed herself to finally come and sign up.

It had been weeks and she hadn’t heard anything more about or from William. Dawn and her friends had tried to be supportive, but there wasn’t much they could do. It took everything in her, not to ask Willow to do a locating spell, but her resolve was melting more and more each day. It wasn’t that she thought Willow wouldn’t or shouldn’t, more so that if she did locate him, and went to him, that he wouldn’t want her there.

Buffy left the bookstore, cursing under her breath, when she saw that it had started to rain. It was going to be a long walk to the parking lot.

“Well, I don’t have to get that wet,” she said, remembering that she could go through an old hallway between the buildings, leading out to where the campus police were located in a tiny office, and she would be right at the parking lot. Besides, going that way would allow her to stop and see someone.

Instead of turning towards the maze-like hallway, leading past the theater and art departments which would’ve led eventually to the parking lot, she turned towards the English department. In an even older section of the building, it took her a while to figure out what room she was looking for.

“Damn,” she said, upon finding the office door closed, probably because he’d left for the day. Buffy knocked anyway, and was surprised when a moment later, Professor Wittman opened it.

“Yes?” he asked, trying to place her.

“Professor Wittman, my name is Elizabeth, I’m...I mean, I was...”

“William’s fiancée! Now I know why I recognized you. Come in,” he said, holding the door for her.

She walked into the small, but tidy outer office, then followed him to an even smaller, and much messier one. He took a pile of books and papers off of the chair in front of his desk, and motioned for her to sit down.

He sat down at his seat opposite her, “Well, Elizabeth, what can I do for you?”

Buffy took a deep breath, “I was wondering...you see, William and I are separated, and I was wondering if by any chance you’d spoken to him in the past month or so?”

Professor Wittman nodded, “Yes, of course.”

“You have?” Buffy asked, hopefully.

“You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” Buffy asked, confused.

“William has been living in the apartment over our garage.”

“He has?” Buffy asked, a small smile of relief starting. She couldn’t believe her good fortune. William was only a couple of blocks away!

“Don’t get too excited about it, he hasn’t been around for almost three weeks now.”

Just as quickly as it had made her hopeful, despair took up residence in her heart once more with a resounding thud.

“He moved out? Where did he go?”

“Well, that’s the thing. I’m not sure. He was back a couple of times, but the last time must’ve been 2-3 weeks ago.”

“What do you mean?”

“William paid in advance on the apartment for six months. All of his things, at least, most everything is still there. I imagine he just returned to get some additional clothes, but he still is renting the apartment as far as I know.”

“You don’t know where he is?”

Professor Wittman shook his head, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t even home the last couple of times he came by. It was in the morning after I’d already left for work. You might want to stop by and talk to my wife Ingrid. She said she spoke to him briefly both times, I believe.”

Buffy sat there biting her lower lip, as she digested this latest bit of news.

“Would you like me to tell her that you’ll be coming over?” Professor Wittman asked.

“Yes, please.”

A few minutes later, Professor Wittman hung up the phone. “Ingrid will be expecting you. Do you need directions?”

“No, I remember where it is,” Buffy said, rising. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Elizabeth.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ingrid opened the door, as Buffy walked up to driveway. She’d been expecting her and had seen her pull up, but she had sat in the car for a while before getting out.

“Hello Elizabeth, it’s nice to see you again. Richard told me you were coming.”

“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice,” Buffy said, as she entered the modest, but nicely furnished home.

She followed Ingrid into the living room, and took a seat opposite her.

“I understand you didn’t know that William was renting the apartment from us.”

Buffy shook her head, “No, he didn’t tell me. He hasn’t kept in touch very much lately.”

“I’m sorry,” Ingrid said, looking at the sad young woman before her.

“Me, too.”

“Why don’t I start at the beginning...”

Buffy listened, her heart breaking for him, as Ingrid told her how William had come to stay there, after being attacked at the university. How he’d kept mostly to himself at first, but then after they’d returned from the Mayo Clinic, how he’d seemed to start going out every night, and how he’d changed his looks so drastically.

“How so?”

“I don’t know the term for it, it’s a sort of look. Black clothes, coat, his hair is almost white now.”

Buffy’s eyes grew large. “Oh God, Spike,” she said softly.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s punk, I mean the look.”

“Yes, that’s the term! I don’t know why William wanted to go and change his looks like that for, he’s such a nice looking young man...”

“He used to look like that.”

“That’s what he told me; that he was trying to see how it felt to look like he used to look.”

“Professor Wittman told me that he hasn’t been back here for about three weeks. Can you tell me what he said, the last times you saw him?”

“Hmm...Well, I guess it has been nearly three weeks. Let’s see. The last time I saw him, he stopped by the house to say hello. He said he had a job that would prevented him from coming home very much, but that he’d be in touch. I asked him if he was sure he wanted to still keep the apartment since he it seemed silly for him to be paying rent on it if he wasn’t going to be here, but he didn’t seem concerned.”

“I’ve got to find him!” Buffy said, looking at Ingrid. “He’s going through something terrible, and I’m afraid he’s going to get himself hurt.”

Ingrid nodded, “We’ve been worried about him, too. When a man starts to act out of character from his true nature, bad things can happen.”

“Would you mind if I had a look around his apartment? I know it’s probably not the most kosher thing to do as a landlord, but I swear, I don’t want to take anything of his. I just want to see if I can find anything out about where he might be. You can even stay there with me, while I look, if you want.”

A few minutes later, Ingrid unlocked William’s door, letting Buffy inside. “I’ll leave you alone to look, I trust you. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will, thank you. I’ll lock up and return the key before I leave.”

Ingrid nodded, closing the door behind her.

The apartment was sparsely furnished, but quite different than the last time she’d seen it, when William had been cleaning it out for the Wittmans.

The small bookcase caught her eye first, and she found herself looking at the books he must have purchased, or had been here, since he hadn’t brought his from home. As expected, they were mostly poetry and a few novels as well.

Next, she went into the bedroom. The bed looked as though it hadn’t been slept in for a while. Starting with the pile of clothes on the floor, Buffy looked for any clues about William’s whereabouts. The only thing she found in one of his pant’s pockets, was a receipt from the local 7-Eleven. Sighing, Buffy sat down on the edge of the bed, and picked up a book that was lying open on the crate that served as his bedside table. But, it was what was underneath the book, which caught her attention; it was her ring and necklace. Buffy picked them up, tears coming to her eyes.

With a heavy heart, she put back her jewelry where she’d found it, and replaced the book, before going into the bathroom. There wasn’t much of a story there, just a little bottle of shampoo, the same kind she liked, and a comb on the sink.

In the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator. There was only a half can of thawed out orange juice concentrate, and a very expired carton of milk. She poured them both down the drain, before throwing them away. As she did, she noticed the empty pint bottles of Jack Daniels in the bottom of his trashcan.

“Oh William, where are you and what are you doing to yourself?”

She returned once more to the living room. From the kitchen she could see a computer and notebook lying on the floor in a corner next to the couch. She opened up his computer and plugged it in, and started looking at his files for something, anything that would give her a clue as to what he had been up to.

“Wait a minute!” she said, remembering something.

She typed in ‘cookies’ and got a list of the latest places that he’d been to on the Internet, including MapQuest. She knew from Ingrid, when he’d moved in, so could see from the dates, which files were his.

Logging on as him, and hoping he hadn’t changed his password, she went up to the address, and clicked on MapQuest. As she suspected, the exact page he’d been on came up, including the starting and ending addresses he’d used.

“Now we’re getting somewhere!” Buffy said, as she grabbed the notebook to write down the directions. As she did, she noticed the top page of the notebook had the impression of his writing. She found a pencil, and using the tip sideways, went lightly over the page, until she could read the impression.

IPSO FACTO was the first word that she read. Underneath, were the same directions, plus a phone number, which wasn’t on MapQuest.

“Let’s see what else I can find out about you Mr. Worthington,” she said, as she clicked on the other addresses. Unfortunately, they didn’t turn up anything helpful. Disturbingly, almost all the other addresses he’d visited, had been sites about vampires: history of, lives of, longevity, lore, etc.

Buffy turned off the computer, and folded up the paper. It would give her someplace to start.

She locked up his apartment and returned the key to Ingrid.

“I hope you found something helpful, dear.”

“I might have. Do you remember if William ever said anything about someplace called Ipso Facto?”

Ingrid shook her head; “I don’t think so, what is it?”

“I don’t know, but I intend to find out!”


END CHAPTER 164

Next