CHAPTER 173 - BACK TO THE MOTHER COUNTRY

NOVEMBER 20, 2009
THURSDAY
11:15AM

Chatting a bit at first, as Wesley navigated the freeways on their way to LAX, conversation soon dwindled between the relative strangers. William sat looking out the passenger window at the familiar landscapes of Southern California he'd grown to know, and love over the past year. That he truly was leaving the only place he could now call home, and the only people he knew who cared for him; especially her, was beginning to sink in, and he wondered if he would actually go through with it after all. He started to workout the scenario, where he’d just tell Wesley that he changed his mind, beg his forgiveness for being such a stupid git, tell him to take him back home.

“Um, Mr. Pryce?”

“Oh, before I forget,” Wesley began at the same time, interrupting William, “you might want to take a look at these. Best familiarize yourself with them, before we get there,” Wesley said, pulling out an envelope from the glove compartment.

William opened up the envelope, and took out an airline ticket and passport. The passport photograph was one he'd never seen before, but there was no mistaking that it was Spike. The cold, inhuman eyes staring back at him verified that fact. These were the unsympathetic, eyes he looked out at the world from in his nightmares.

“Um...I believe this is the only photograph of you Mr. Giles had in his files,” Wesley explained, noticing him shudder. “I’m sure we could have another one made up at a later date.”

William shrugged dispassionately, trying hard not to show any emotion, and put the passport back into the envelope, shoving it into his pocket. What difference did it make how they doctored up the truth of his existence? Willow had made up his papers from the university, his green card, and other documents. Elizabeth had given them to him, letting him believe that it was his so called memory loss that had him further confused about which professors he’d had, and courses he’d taken, not to mention the year of graduation.

He’d been a fool; so hungry to believe the lies he’d been fed, so hungry for her and the promise of a life he’d only dared dream about... William’s jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared; the all-too-familiar surge of pain and anger coursing through him, as he recalled a whole year of living a lie, and he felt renewed purpose over his decision to leave.

“Oh, how rude of me! You were about to say something before?” Wesley asked, interrupting his dark thoughts.

“It was nothing,” William said, shaking his head.

“Very well,” Wesley said. “By the way, your airline ticket is for roundtrip, but open-ended.”

“What does that mean?” William asked, frowning.

“Sorry, I forget you’ve never flown. It means that it’s already been paid for, but the return is left open. Whenever it is that you decide to return, you just have to make a reservation with the airline for that date. Of course, you’d still want to call in advance, to secure the seat.”

“I see. Thanks for seeing to it, Mr. Pryce.”

“Not of my doing. I’m only the messenger,” Wesley said, with a sardonic grin. “Mr. Giles is the one to thank. Oh, and please do call me Wesley, Mr. Pryce is my father.”

William nodded. William felt the beginnings of a bad headache coming on, probably from the roller coaster of emotions he’d been riding.

“We should be there in about twenty minutes,” Wesley said, pointing to a highway sign for Los Angeles International Airport.

At the mention of the airport, William felt his stomach flip-flop, and his head start pounding with renewed vigor. He was really leaving! Just as quickly as he had felt the surge of anger and pain he now remembered with longing, the warmth he’d shared with Elizabeth only yesterday; remembered how her body felt just this morning snuggled up against his. With those feelings came another wave of guilt over leaving.

Yep, it was going to be one hell of a headache!

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

11:00AM

Buffy was still sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea that had long ago grown cold, and staring at William’s note when she heard the crunch of gravel on the drive. Her pulse sped up, and she quickly refolded the note, sticking it into the pocket of her robe. Self-consciously, she ran her fingers through her hair, while expectantly keeping her eye on the door. A few moments later Dawn walked in with Clem, who was carrying two rather large cartons.

“Hey, Buffy, you’re up!” Dawn said..

“Dawn!” Buffy replied surprised and happy to see her, at the same time, trying to cover up her disappointment that it wasn’t William.

“How are you?”

“Better.”

Dawn walked over to the table, and felt Buffy’s forehead. “Well, you feel alright for a sickly person,” she said, grinning.

“So says the person with the freezing cold hands,” Buffy said.

“Sorry about that,” Dawn said, as she flopped down in the chair opposite Buffy, studying her weary face. Quickly, Buffy looked away. She couldn’t handle the tea and sympathy route right now.

“Hey Buffy, where should I put these?” Clem asked.

“What are they?” Buffy asked.

“They’re care packages from Edna; all your favorite dishes, plus extra essentials like bread and eggs, you know Edna...Oh, and William stopped by and ordered it for you on his way to...um...wherever he’s going,” Clem said, catching himself just in time. He looked at Buffy guiltily, but she seemed to have not have noticed his slip.

“He did?” Buffy asked. “That was...”

“William for you,” Clem finished breezily, relief rolling off him in palpable waves. He'd promised his best friend not to say anything, and the first thing he did was nearly let it slip. Then again, Buffy had been his closest friend for a number of years, too. He just hoped he wouldn't have to either lie to her or betray the promise he made to Spike.

“Yeah,” Buffy said softly. “Just put them on the counter; we’ll put it all away.”

“Okey dokey,” Clem said, putting the cartons down, with a thud, then made for the backdoor.

“There’s more?” Buffy asked, her eyes wide.

“Hee-hee. No, I just thought I’d be on my way then; let you and Dawn catch up with the girl-talk and all that.”

“You’re not going to stay and chat for a while?” Dawn asked, sounding disappointed.

“Nah. I got some things to do, but I’ll come back over later; that is, if you and Buffy feel like some company.”

“Sure, why don’t you come back around dinnertime. Are you staying that long, Dawn?”

“Yep, you’re stuck with me, at least until tomorrow.”

“Oh, I didn’t know. Good,” Buffy said, turning toward Clem. “Then come back and you can eat dinner with us; there certainly looks as though there’s enough to feed a small army.”

“I’ll be back around 6, how’s that?”

Both sisters nodded, and with that, Clem was out the door.

"I saw him;” Dawn said, as soon as Clem had left.

"Who him?"

"William. I was coming through town, just as he was leaving Edna's."

"Oh. Did he see you?"

Dawn nodded, “Yeah, I stopped and we talked for a while."

"What did he tell you?" Buffy asked.

"You know; when I asked him why he was leaving he gave me the old line about it being complicated," Dawn said, rolling her eyes.

"It is; at least I guess it is more for him, than it is for me."

"Oh, and I told him he was an asshole, and I slugged him."

"Dawn!" Buffy said, aghast.

"Don’t worry, I hugged him first; after too, for that matter. What can I say, he deserved it. I just thought someone in the family should, since you can’t seem to do it..."

"I nearly did," Buffy said. Seeing Dawn's expression, she added, "Not this time; that night in Los Angeles. I don’t suppose he shared where he was going with you?”

Dawn shook her head.

"Me either; all he said was that he wasn't running away this time, but that it was what he had to do as a man. Whatever the hell that means...”

“I don’t know Buffy, but you know Spike could never do things the easy way, I guess it must be the same for William.”

"I never quite looked at it that way before, but you’re absolutely right, Dawn,” Buffy said, thoughtfully.

“He also never gave up when he wanted something,” Dawn added, hoping she came off sounding positive.

“No, he didn’t,” Buffy agreed, thinking back to how hard he’d tried to win her over when she wanted nothing to do with him at first. From going against his very nature to try to be good, to fighting to win back his soul when he’d hurt her; and ultimately, dying to save the world.

The question was, however; what did he want now?

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

12:00NOON
LOS ANGELES

After parking Wesley’s car, the men proceeded to the British Airways Terminal. William followed Wesley’s lead in getting their bags checked, and making it through the international security area, before getting to the British Airways pre-boarding lounge. The man checking William’s passport stared at it for a few moments longer than he had Wesley’s. Looking over at his computer terminal, he quickly clicked on the W’s under names that were red-flagged for security risks.

Under Worthington, a fifty-five year old man named Randall A., of Fort Worth, TX showed up. The man looked again at William. There was definitely no resemblance, familial or otherwise, to the man on the screen. Next, William was asked to take off his coat, his shoes, and to remove everything from his pockets, before going through the metal detector. He hesitated when his hand found the small box in his front pocket. Reluctantly, he placed it and everything else in the plastic bin on the conveyor belt. After going through the detector, he collected his things on the other side. For a moment he panicked when he didn’t see the box, or his wallet in the bin. He started scanning the crowd looking for someone who carrying his things.

“Looking for these?” Wesley asked, holding out William’s wallet and the small box.

“Yes,” William said, taking them gratefully.

“Sorry if I caused you to become alarmed. I just didn’t want your valuables unattended for too long, so I took the liberty of holding them for you,” Wesley said. In order to help him through the process, if warranted, Wesley had been in line behind William. However, when William had to stop to undo his boots, the screeners had motioned Wesley, along with a few other passengers ahead.

“Thanks. I thought someone had made off with them; know I could replace what’s in here, bother though it might be,” William said, motioning to his wallet, “but some things can’t ever be...”

“I agree,” Wesley said, hoping William would be forthcoming and tell him what it was he was carrying that fell into that category, but he didn’t. William finished retying his boots, then got the rest of his stuff. After proceeding to the departure gate, they took a seat in the waiting area.

“I wish we’d had time to grab something to eat before boarding. Even though the food is supposed to be very good on this flight, I never quite trust airline food. However, we’re lucky we got here when we did,” Wesley said, looking at his watch. They were scheduled to leave in less than half an hour.

“That’s fine; don’t think I could eat now if I tried,” William replied.

“Are you nervous?”

“A bit,” William said, swallowing. In actuality, he was quite nervous. He stood up and walked over to the huge, floor to ceiling windows overlooking the runways, and watched as a plane landed, then taxied up to the terminal. The plane was huge; the largest that he could see out there; and he still didn’t understand how something so big could fly. Of course, for the first 27 years of his life, planes hadn’t even been invented. In fact, if you subtracted the 120+ years he didn’t recall as Spike; then just a little more than a year ago, his basic transportation mode had been horse and buggy. It made his head swim just thinking about it all. Finally, he returned to his seat next to Wesley, just as the flight attendant got on the public address system, and started to announce the start of passenger seating.

“British Airways Flight 9310 to London’s Heathrow Airport is now ready to begin boarding. Those in first class may now line up to board.”

“That’s not us. We’ll probably have another 20-30 minutes before they get to us. We’re in row 52, somewhere toward the back, I suspect.”

“My God, how many people does it hold?”

“I believe it holds upwards of 700 people.”

“Seven hundred...? Why that’s the size of a small town,” William said, shaking his head.

“Yes, quite,” Wesley said, nodding. “We’re booked on the Airbus A380; the largest, and newest passenger airplane; only around four or five years old, I believe. I must confess; I’m rather excited to have the chance to fly on such an aircraft. It’s supposed to be quite posh, from what I hear; which is a good thing, since it’s a long flight.”

“How long?” William asked, feeling more and more uneasy by the moment.

"Would be about 11 or 12 hours direct, if memory serves. This flight is making a couple of stops, however. With 700 seats, the airlines want to have it flying with as many passengers as possible. That means," Wesley said, calculating, "probably more like 14 or 15 hours, including the stopovers I should think. That is, if there’s no other delays."

"That long?" William asked, gulping.

“Yes, well it is all the way to Europe, isn’t it?” Wesley said, adding, “And I do believe it’s still quite a bit quicker than going by ship.”

“I never took one of those either,” William said, innocently.

Wesley stared at him, “I do believe that you must have at some time...in your past.”

William stared back at Wesley, then realized what he was implying. Of course! How else would he have ever come to the States? He’d forgotten that this man was also a Watcher, like Mr. Giles. He wondered how much about his past, about Spike, he also knew.

“Still,” Wesley said, trying to steer the conversation away from William’s past, after seeing him drop his eyes away in discomfort, “I think you’ll find that the time passes rather quickly, and you can always sleep part of the time.”

“Don’t imagine I’ll be able to relax enough to do that,” William said, softly.

“Well, if not, there’s always movies, music, drink. Say, did you bring a book?”

William shook his head, “No, I wish I’d thought of that.”

“Well, never mind. I believe the airplane even has a duty-free shop, so you can probably pick up a quick read on board.”

William didn’t even bother to ask what duty-free meant.

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

LONDON
8:00PM

“I’ve finished with the bedroom Mr. Giles. If that’s all you’ll be needing of me now, then I’ll be taking my leave for the evening.”

“Very good, Mrs. Greeves. It looks very welcoming,” Giles said, surveying the guest bedroom that William would be staying in.

“Should be after all the hard work I put in this past week. The room hasn’t likely been cleaned in years,” Mrs. Greeves said, giving him an accusing glance, as she wrinkled up her nose.

The fifty-something housekeeper had been with him for years, before moving to the states. He’d been lucky to get her back a couple of years ago, after her then-present employer died. She was good-hearted, thorough, and discreet about his vocation. Still, she rankled him sometimes, when she spoke her mind. Giles bit back his retort.

As far as the state of the room went, he could hardly be blamed. For years he’d hardly lived there at all. Then after finally moving back for good, he’d had nowhere other than the spare bedrooms to keep all the Council’s records; at least those that had been able to be recovered from a variety of sources. He hadn’t been the only Watcher to occasionally lift a record or two for his own use throughout the years, and as head of the Council now, he’d called in his numerous favors from those few Watchers still around. They’d agreed that with the New Order of Watchers, NOW for short, though still referred to as The Council, that having all the records in a centralized location made sense.’

So, thanks to Willow, a year after Sunnydale had been destroyed, untold volumes of records had been transferred to computer databases. Of those, he still had all of the original copies, plus multitudes of texts and journals he stubbornly resisted putting into on hard drives, floppys, and CD-ROM’s.

Although quite comfortable with computers over the past years, Giles also learned how apparently easily they could be hacked into. The only way to insure the safety of the new slayers was to make sure the information wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands. Therefore, certain information he kept in the databases of old – the bound type.

Giles had chosen the third floor bedroom, which contained the least amount of boxes and books, to become William’s room during his stay. After all the records had been removed, Mrs. Greeves had thoroughly cleaned the room, making it ready for his guest.

Another bedroom next to his on the second floor had been made ready for Wesley.

“You’ve done a fine job. Thank you, for staying later than normal, Mrs. Greeves; I truly appreciate it,” Giles said.

She waved off his praise with a flourish of her hand, “Ach! Don’t worry, I’ll be back tomorrow; bright and early,” she said.

Giles listened as she made her way down the two flights of stairs, and to the front hall. The slam of the door let him know she’d gone. Sighing, he turned his attention back to the room, his eyes sweeping over it critically. He’d purposely left a good variety of books in the dark teakwood bookcases in case William wanted to read. They contained poetry, and philosophy, as well as short stories and novels. There was also an abundance of blank journals, should William want to write; he sincerely hoped that would be the case.

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

LOS ANGELES
12:30PM

“Well, that’s us,” Wesley said, rising from the seat. William followed suit, slinging the backpack containing the laptop and a few other things over his back, then going to stand in the queue leading to the portable hallway leading from terminal to plane.

“Enjoy your trip,” said a pretty, Indian-looking woman, as she handed William back his ticket, before he entered the hallway.

“Thank you,” he replied, and taken aback momentarily by her crisp English accent, matched only by the crispness of her British Airways uniform.

Wesley had stopped a few feet away, and smiled encouragingly at William as he started through the passageway towards the plane.

At the door to the plane, another woman, also obviously a British native - this one with brown hair and blue eyes, welcomed them aboard. To William’s way of thinking, her looks fit with what he expected one speaking the Queen’s English to look like.

He had to admit; it made him a bit excited to be hearing so many familiar voices all in the same day; first Wesley, then these two attendants. Although they’d occasionally watched Masterpiece Theater, and he had heard the occasional British actor on the television, in the little more than a year he’d been living with Elizabeth, he’d only once spoken at any length to one other person who sounded like him, and that had been Mr. Giles.

William followed Wesley through the huge plane, until they found their seat numbers. The interior wall was colored soft beige, and the seats were in soft tones of sea green and mauve. They found their assigned seats on the fore side of the plane, and as Wesley had predicted, about two-thirds of the way back. There were 10 seats across, three on each side, and four in the middle. The plane hummed with mechanical noises, as well as passengers taking their seats, stowing their belongings, and talking excitedly to each other, and the other passengers.

“Nice sized seats,” Wesley commented as he took the middle one, insisting that William take the window seat, assuring him that there was nothing like seeing the world and all its glory from the air. William wasn’t so sure. He’d have preferred the aisle, and to keep his eyes shut for that matter, but he didn’t feel like coming off sounding like a ponce.

The flight attendant, whose name was Angela, stopped and asked them if they would like to purchase specialized earplugs, amusingly enough called, ‘Ear Planes,’ to help with the pressure. Wesley bought them two sets.

“What was that?” William asked, upon hearing a loud slamming sound, accompanied by feeling a change in pressure.

“Nothing to worry about,” Wesley assured him. “I believe they’ve just closed the doors, and are preparing for...”

The lights flickered for a moment, and the plane started to back up away from the hangar.

“Welcome aboard British Airways flight 9310 to London’s Heathrow Airport, with connecting stops in Chicago and New York...” said a flight attendant over the plane’s intercom.

“Chicago?” William asked, the color draining from his face. “Why are we stopping in Chicago?”

“It’s just to pick up other passengers, as I explained. Then we land in New York, pick up some more, drop off some, then it’s across the Atlantic on to England,” Wesley answered in a whisper, directing William’s attention back to the rest of the message.

The flight attendant went on, as the airplane started to back up from the hangar, directing the passenger’s attention to the plane’s exits, and in-flight emergency procedures, in case of a sudden landing. William followed along intently, though his mind now had other things to worry about.

A few minutes later, the plane was accelerating down the runway. William gripped the seat arms tightly, but none-the-less, watched as the plane lifted off. He saw the Pacific Ocean before the plane banked, and started to head eastward. Looking out the window, he saw the low foothills of the Los Angeles Basin, and the larger mountains to the south, wondering if he could see all the way to Julian; wondering when he’d ever find his way back.

END CHAPTER 173

CHAPTER 174 – ANOTHER LIFETIME AGO

NOVEMBER 20, 2009
THURSDAY
6:00PM

Wesley had hoped that the long flight would offer them an opportunity to talk. However, right after lunch had been served, William had opted to watch a movie. Halfway through it, despite what he’d predicted, he’d dropped off to sleep somewhere between the Rocky Mountains and Nebraska. Sighing, Wesley took out a book he’d brought along to read, while he waited for his traveling companion to awaken.

An announcement brought William awake. Opening his eyes, he realized after a moment where he was.

"What was that?" he asked, groggily.

"That was the Captain, saying we'll be landing in Chicago in about an hour."

"What time is it?"

Wesley looked at his watch. "California time, it's almost 4:00pm; its two hours later in Chicago."

William shook his head.

"I've never been to Chicago. I hear it's a great town for music, food, museums."

"Yeah, just great," William said, with a soft snort.

"You've been?"

"Could say that," William answered, then fell silent as Wesley regarded him. Suddenly something that Rupert had told him clicked into place.

"Chicago is where Buffy found you, isn't it? Where the amulet wound up."

Slowly William turned to Wesley. He shouldn’t have been surprised that the Watcher knew this part of it as well, but it must have been written on his face.

“I’m sorry,” Wesley said, hastily. “That was rude of me and not really any of my business.”

William regarded him for a moment, and saw he didn’t mean him any harm.
“That’s alright,” he said, with a small shrug.

William turned back to looking out the window. The mountains were behind them now, and all he could barely make out was the geometric squares and rectangles of America’s heartland.

Another announcement was made over the intercom regarding Chicago. William turned back to Wesley.

“First thing I remember is waking up in a dark room, naked, and then falling. Thought my brother had played a cruel trick on me. I was in some sort of lower-level warehouse. When I finally managed to find a door, I wandered out and upstairs to The Field Museum’s main floor. I thought I was surrounded by monsters; thought I was in hell.”

“What did you think were monsters?” Wesley asked.

“The dinosaurs. Well, I guess they were monsters,” William said with a soft chuckle, “but I’d never seen a dinosaur skeleton before; hadn’t been discovered yet in my day.”

“I see. How did you come to find your way out?”

“I didn’t. Was taken out on a gurney. I ran into a security guard who took exception to my being there; sure that my being naked didn’t help any,” William said, with a grimace, “so he shot me.”

“My God! You were shot?”

“Yeah,” William said, pointing to his left leg above his knee. “Lucky for me it didn’t do much harm.”

Wesley shook his head, dismayed. “So, if I’m to understand this correctly, mere minutes after coming back as your former, human self, you almost get shot to death by a trigger happy security guard’s handgun? That’s...that’s appalling is what that is!” Wesley said, indignantly.

“Yeah, you’d think that some high and mighty would’ve maybe thought to tell a Victorian lad about the Americans and their guns. Don’t quite think what I’d heard about the Wild West back in the day actually prepared me for that sort of encounter,” William said, with a small snort.

“And you didn’t know who you were or where you were,” Wesley stated.

“No, thought I was still back in London; thought my brother and his friends must’ve tricked me into drinking absinthe. How else could I explain to myself what I was seeing? Hearing? Either that or I was having some sort of horrible nightmare. I kept willing myself to awaken, but I couldn’t,” he said softly.

“It must’ve been terrifying for you.”

William nodded. “Not knowing where I was; thinking it was still 1880. I thought I’d lost my mind, along with everyone else thinking the same...I’m sorry; don’t know why I brought all that up. Not my habit to be talking about this to...just not my habit to talk of it is all.”

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Though I’m curious to one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“What led Buffy to find you, or even know that you were back amongst the living, let alone in Chicago?”

“I don’t know all of the story. Something about her seeing a picture of it; then later on, saw a picture of me in the newspaper - when I didn’t know who I was. Guess the papers thought it was a good story: ‘Man with no memory thinks he’s living in a different age,’ or some such thing,” William said, averting his eyes.

“I think Willow was involved somehow, too. I’m afraid Elizabeth tried to tell me a couple of months ago, after I found out about...all of it, but I don’t think she filled me in on all the details. Either that, or if she did, I just couldn’t bear to hear it all.”

“I understand,” Wesley said, a bit disconcerted whenever William referred to Buffy as Elizabeth. Giles had already told him to expect that, though he hadn’t elaborated. He supposed that perhaps it was her real name.

“Don’t see how you possibly could.”

“No. Of course not; I couldn’t possibly; I just meant if I were in your shoes, I’d likely feel the same way.”

“You mean my human 19th Century Victorian shoes now standing in the 21st Century, in between which I was a vampire? Those shoes?”

“Yes, those very ones,” Wesley said, laughing. He couldn’t help but like William’s self-deprecating humor. He understood it all too well, had used it often enough himself as a coping mechanism.

The corner of William’s mouth crinkled up, and he laughed as well. His life was somewhere between a Shakespearian comedy and a Greek tragedy. Might as well make mirth of it; either that or drown in his own private sorrows, and he’d done enough of that of late.

“How long did you know Elizabeth? I’ve never heard her mention you before.”

Wesley inwardly winced. No, he wouldn’t suppose Buffy would have come to mention him. He certainly hadn’t been her favorite person when he’d tried to take over as her Watcher. It had been years since they’d spoken, after he left in utter disgrace after she had defeated the mayor. He decided not to bring up Faith.

“I was actually Buffy’s Watcher for a short time,” he said. William looked surprised. Wesley told the story of how the Council had sent him, after dismissing Giles, feeling that the Watcher had gotten too close to Buffy. “Not to mention that Giles refused to go along with some of their more archaic, methods of Slayer training.” Not that he’d thought so then.

“Of course, as I found out in short order, Buffy wasn’t one to be bossed around by anyone; especially one who was as green as I was. Oh, I was quite good at the research end of it, and knew all about how to kill demons by the book, but I’d never actually done it myself in the field. When it came time for me to face a real one, I was quickly outted as the ponce I truly was. I'm afraid I needed rescuing much more than Mr. Giles or the rest of Buffy's inner circle of friends ever did," Wesley said, then quickly added. "Of course, now I'm quite proficient at fighting, but back then..."

“So, what happened? Did Mr. Giles get reinstated as her Watcher?”

“For a while, from what I understood. Though after a certain point, they pretty much seemed to stop taking direction from the Council at all. They seemed to have reached an agreement of sorts, whereas your Ms. Summers and Mr. Giles just worked independently, for the most part, only consulting with the Council when necessary.”

William smiled to himself. He could well imagine that Elizabeth wouldn’t be the type to take directions from a bunch of old, self-righteous English prats, such as Wesley had described them.

“Did you stay on in Sunnydale?”

“No, I tried my hand at being an independent demon hunter. Went out and bought myself a motorbike, and even wore leather, if you can imagine. I hoped if I looked tougher and a lot more capable than I truly was, demons would fear me, rather than challenge me.”

“Preaching to the choir here,” William said, with a sympathetic nod.

Wesley stopped for a moment to regard him. “Yes, I can see that I am, William. Though I tend to think, and I’m sure others would agree; you wear the look much better than I ever did. I never felt like I was in my own skin when I was donning the...look. However, I must admit, it did make me feel tougher, superficially of course. Inside, I was still the same weak person. I didn’t really start to hone my own fighting skills, until after I started working for Angel.”

Angel! This man works for Angel! Or at least, the organization that Angel had worked for.

William’s pulse immediately quickened, as he took in his situation. He regarded Wesley through narrowed eyes. Had this been some sort of set up all along? Had Wesley been sent along to collect him, for the very purpose of leading him into some sort of trap? Did Mr. Giles know, too? Was he in on this? After all, as Clem had reminded him, Mr. Giles hadn’t exactly been a fan of his back in the day. Without Elizabeth knowing, Mr. Giles could be... He shook his head; his thoughts beginning to border on the absurd. After all, he’d been the one to contact Mr. Giles, not the other way around!

Still...William wondered if he shouldn’t be making some sort of contingency plan to get off the plane in Chicago, in order to get away from this man.

“Worked with Angel did you?” William said, his voice neutral, though his body was taut with nerves.

“Yes, I went to work for him right after...” Wesley stopped. Looking over at him, he caught sight of the clenched jaw and the flash of cold anger in William’s eyes, before it was quickly camouflaged.

Wesley shook his head; “It’s not like that; let me explain...”

“Yeah, why don’t you do that, Pryce? Explain to me why you’d go to work with for a killer like him?” William said in a low, dangerous voice. “More over, what do you want with me?”

“Want with you? Nothing at all,” Wesley said, bristling, “I’m only here to accompany you to London, as a favor to Mr. Giles. I assure you, I have no hidden agenda.”

William looked at him skeptically.

“Look, it was inexcusably thoughtless of me to bring up Angel, forgetting what he put you through only of late.”

“Not just me,” William said.

“No, of course not. You and Buffy,” Wesley said.

“All I can tell you, and whether you chose to believe me or not is up to you, is that Angel did good for many, many years. He saved people, he fought against the dark forces, just like Buffy...”

“Don’t you dare compare him to her in the same breath!” William hissed.
“He’s a vampire!”

“He has a soul.”

“So what? Didn’t stop him from killing, did it?”

“It did for a long time.”

“So what? Because a little killing is okay, if you stop every once in a while?”

“You were a vampire,” Wesley said, then immediately regretted it.

William swallowed hard. “Yes, though I don’t remember it; but I know enough about being a vampire to know that being good, or having a soul doesn’t make up for the evil you’ve done.”

“No, I don’t suppose it does; after all, you can’t ever undo what was done. But I do believe that trying to be good, doing good deeds, stopping killing, saving lives, is still a noble thing for a...”

“Noble?” William said, with a bitter laugh.

“Yes, William,” Wesley said, gently. “It is noble to change from being a killer to one who saves lives; especially if that someone is a vampire, one whose very nature...”

“But it didn’t stop him, did it?”

“It’s complicated...” Wesley said.

William let out a small, hollow sounding laugh, remembering using those same words with Dawn only a few hours ago, and her reply that, ‘It’s complicated,’ just being a cover for someone not wanting to say what’s really going on.

“...but I’ll try to explain.”

“Yeah, go ahead and do that,” William said, skeptically.

Wesley told William about all of them having gone over to Wolfram & Hart, hoping to work for good from within. Told him that in time he, along with the rest of Angel’s original team, had gotten out, working together in the old agency. All except Angel, who Wesley reasoned, must have had his reasons for staying.

“Apparently, they played him; meant to manipulate him all along. Unfortunately, by that time, it was too late for Angel. He’d been corrupted by the power Wolfram & Hart gave him. Without any of us around to remind him just what side he was suppose to be working for...Well, he didn’t lose his soul and revert to Angelus per-se, but somewhere along the way, he seemed to have lost the capacity and motivation to do the right thing. He used use the supernatural powers available to him to hurt people, and to do his own manipulating.”

“Seems simple; vampires just shouldn’t be trusted.”

“That’s true, but I don’t think that missive can be uniformly applied to vampires with a soul.”

“Yes, it can and should be!” William said, adamantly.

“I think Buffy would disagree,” Wesley said, quietly.

“I think...I think she got her emotions involved; wasn’t able to think clearly like she should’ve been. Elizabeth started to see me, and him...Angel,” William spat the name, “as men, instead of monsters.”

“So then, you don’t believe in forgiveness or redemption? Do you think The Powers would have let you come back human, if they didn’t think you deserved it?”

“The Powers,” William repeated, trying to wrap his mind around the word, and all that implied. He’d been brought up believing in God, a single God. A benevolent, forgiving, all-powerful, but also exacting, God.

Things were simple then. Break God’s commandments, you went to hell. Obey them, and your reward was heaven. Had the world changed so much that God was only an idea, and a distant memory to most? Had gods; plural, or The Powers taken over the role once filled by this belief?

Had the idea of One God really only been just another mythology? How many years had the Greeks and Romans believed in multiple deities such as Poseidon, Zeus, Apollo Athena, etc.? It wasn’t until Christianity spread, albeit violently much of the time, throughout the world, that those deities were replaced in the minds of the ancients with a single God.

In the future, would others look upon the belief of One God with superiority? Would they shake their heads in amused dismay that a people could be so ignorant? Chuckle at the simplicity of this era of the One God belief system?

William shook his head to clear his mind before it spiraled farther down that particular maze. Ah...the headache was beginning to reassert itself.

“I don’t know what I believe anymore,” William finally answered, and he didn’t.
“It’s hard to know. You believe in a certain way all your life then all of a sudden, you’re thrust into a world you never would’ve believed could exist in consort with the one you thought you knew. Only you never really did.”

Wesley nodded sympathetically, his face clouding over. “Unfortunately, I can’t claim ignorance; I never really could. See, my own father worked for The Council, so as far back as I can remember; I always knew that there was a world beyond the world that most believed existed. Still, even with that, I resisted; I didn’t want to believe. I envied my peers in their naivete, and wished with all my heart that I could be a part of their world. A world where one doesn’t know of the existence of monsters, and isn’t called upon to fight them.”

“Or be one,” William said softly.

“You’re not now! I think that’s what counts; you’ve been given a second chance.”

William turned away, looking out the window. Second chances; that’s what Elizabeth and even Dawn had told him he’d been given. He just couldn’t understand why; which was one of the main reasons he was on this journey. He watched, the patterned landscape of farmland gradually giving way to a more populated look, as the plane started it’s slow descent towards Chicago.

Wesley was quiet for a few moments thinking about what William had told him. He’d been advised by Giles not to bring up anything to do with William’s past with him, due to, as Giles had put it, William’s ‘fragile’ state. However, the conversation had just drifted that way, as far as he could tell. He would have to tell Giles what William’s concerns were.

Since William seemed to have withdrawn from further conversation, Wesley picked up his book again. A few minutes later, William heard him mumble something to himself.

William looked over, just as Wesley closed the book. He arched his eyebrow seeing the cover. “You’re reading The Iliad in Greek?”

Wesley looked over at William with newfound respect. “Trying to might be the operative term. Just to keep up; translating ancient languages is one of my specialties. There are a lot of similarities between languages, if one knows how the words break down. I thought I’d try one of the classics in its original language.”

William nodded; he used to be able to read and write both Greek and Latin fairly well, though he still had a degree of difficulty speaking them aloud. Still, he had been near the top of his classes in both.

“A certain phrase is giving me a terrible time, though. I think I know what it should be but...”

“Could I see it?” William asked, shyly.

“Certainly,” Wesley said, opening up the book to the page he’d placed the corded bookmark in. “Starting here. I’ve worked out most of this...”

William started reading to himself, a bit above where Wesley had showed him in order to get the gist of the passage. ‘When many are got together, you can be guided by him whose counsel is wisest- and sorely do we need shrewd and prudent counsel, for the foe has lit his watchfires hard by our ships. Who can be other than dismayed? This night will either be the ruin of our host, or save it.’

“...but here. See?” Wesley said. “I’ve got this part. ‘Thus did he speak, and they did even as he had said. The...’ It’s this word that follows - öñïõñüò. I think it’s monuments, but that doesn’t seem quite right,” Wesley said, puzzling.
William shook his head. “Not monuments. Sentinels. ‘Thus did he speak, and they did even as he had said. The sentinels went out in their armour under command of Nestor's son Thrasymedes...and so on,” William said.
“Ah...that’s it!” Wesley said, excitedly.
“I think monument is...you don’t happen to have a pen, do you?”

Wesley pulled one from his pocket, along with a small notebook. He handed the items to William.

“Monuments I believe is looks like this, ìíçìåßá, at least the sort of built ones. The Greeks have other words for different types of monuments that we in English use the same word for; stone monument, living monument, monumental, and so on, and so forth.”

“William, which university did you attend?”

“Oxford.”

“Oxford? Why that’s my alma-mater, as well.” Wesley said, with a smile. “What year did you finish?”

“Graduating class of ’74,” William answered.

For a minute, Wesley was stumped as he tried to calculate William’s age based on a 1974 date of graduation; then he realized his mistake. The man sitting next to him would have graduated from the university over 100 years before he was even born.

“Um, yeah. Long time ago,” William said, seeing Wesley rendered speechless. “On the other hand, not remembering anything in between means that as far as my memory goes, it’s only been a few years.”

“I’m sorry,” Wesley said, clearing his throat, “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“It’s fine.”

A few minutes later, William heard a chime and saw the ‘fasten seatbelt’ lights come on. Everyone around him started to buckle up, so he followed suit.

“Good afternoon. The captain has turned on the seatbelt sign, signaling our descent as we approach O’Hare Airport. The temperature in Chicago is a cool
1 degree Celsius, or 33 degrees Fahrenheit, local time is 6:30pm. For those of you continuing on to New York and London, we ask that you please stay onboard during our stopover. For those of you whose destination is Chicago, we thank you for flying British Airways, and hope you’ve had a pleasant flight. We will be landing in approximately five minutes.”

William tensed as the city came into view, and the engines started to throttle back, as they prepared for landing. He reminded himself that the last time he was here he had no control what so ever over his situation or life. At least he had that now. Whether or not he was happy with it, was another story. One thing had certainly changed since he’d last been there; he was no longer innocent, or ignorant. His life was in his own hands now.

He took a deep breath, and tried to clear his mind from thinking about how he’d started out here, in what seemed to be yet, another lifetime ago. Not only were they the most terrifying memories of being helpless and impotent, but they also brought up the bittersweet memories of meeting Elizabeth once again, and of the feelings of hope she’d given him. Afterwards, discovering for the first time what it felt like to be a man, with her, for her. Everything from the intense, almost sacred feelings of love and connection he immediately felt for her in his very heart, body, and soul, to the defiled, perverted, and horrifying nightmares that plagued him now.

“We’re almost on the ground,” Wesley said.

William nodded weakly towards him, figuring the Watcher thought he was nervous about landing. In fact, the moment of landing was picture perfect, barely a bump to be felt. Still, he was glad for his companion’s calming presence.

A few moments later, the plane came to a stop at the terminal. There was a flurry of activity, as those who were getting off in Chicago, rose from their seats to gather their things.

“We’re sorry for the inconvenience, but all passengers need to take their seats until further notice,” said the brisk announcement over the intercom.

There was a general grumbling, followed by some raised voices, and some passengers ignoring the request all together. The flight attendants came down the aisles, trying to get the cooperation of the passengers. The pressure released, as the doors opened. A few moments later, toward the front of the cabin, he saw one of the attendants pointing in his general direction.

William’s pulse quickened; his body poised for either flight or fight, as he saw the two men in white coats come hurrying down the aisle, carrying a stretcher between them. Before he could decide which it was to be, they passed right by him without even a glance, and headed towards the rear of the plane.

“What’s going on?” Wesley asked the flight attendant on her way after the paramedics.

“Heart attack, we think. Just stay in your seat,” she said, rushing by.

William’s jaw unclenched as he slumped down, the aftermath of the rushing flood of adrenaline leaving him dizzy.

Wesley looked over at him, concern dawning on his face.

“What’s the matter?”

William shook his head, unable to say anything.

Wesley pulled an unopened bottle of water from the pocket in front of his seat that he’d forgotten to return to the flight attendant, and handed it to William.

William took it gratefully, uncapped it, and took a drink. Wesley noticed the slight trembling of his hands.

“What happened to you just then?”

“Seemed to have come down with a sudden case of poncyness William said, sheepishly.

“I still don’t understand.”

”It’s stupid, really. Just suddenly seeing those paramedics coming down the aisle with the gurney and all...here in Chicago,” he said, with a shudder. “I thought for a moment, that they were from the hospital...one I was at. Thought they’d found out I was here somehow, and had come to take me back.”

“Oh,” Wesley said. “Still, I think it’s fairly safe to say that you needn’t ever worry about that happening.”

“I know that, I just...Well, hence the title of ponce.” Wesley patted his arm, and they both grinned.

After that, William relaxed. The man who’d gotten ill, was taken away by the paramedics, Chicago passengers got off, and the plane sat at the gate getting ready to admit those boarding here on their way to New York or London.

Wesley took out his cell phone, and proceeded to make a number of phone calls. While he did so, William tried to finish the movie he started, but couldn’t, not while they were on the ground. For a moment, he caught part of one of Wesley’s conversations. This one had him decidedly taking on a softer tone, as if he were speaking to someone for whom he deeply cared. William’s own hand slid down his inside coat pocket, until he felt his phone. He could call her; just to talk to her for a while, let her know he was...

No.

He couldn’t.

If he heard Elizabeth’s voice now, he’d never be able to go on. To distract himself, he settled for listening to some music over the headphones, (luckily that still worked), as he perused a British Airways’ onboard magazine. He felt fine now, calm even, but he’d still be relieved when they were on the next leg of their trip, and out of Chicago.

William’s attention was broken, as he glanced over at Wesley, and saw him looking back at him, worriedly. He turned down the volume on his headset and listened.

“...Oh no...I’m so sorry...No, I completely understand, don’t give it another thought; I’ll take care of everything....Stay as long as you need to...Yes...Please, let me know if I can do...Goodbye ...I’ll talk to you soon,” Wesley said, flipping his phone shut.

“Trouble?”

“Not trouble per-se, but the slayer I left in charge, needs to go home to Oregon right away, as her father’s taken ill quite suddenly. Unfortunately, that leaves me in quite a fix; as she’s the only one I am sure would’ve been able to handle anything that came up. I’m afraid that means I’m not going to be able to continue on to London with you, William,” Wesley said, regrettably.

“I see,” William said, digesting the news.

“Um, yes. I guess I’m going to have to let the attendant know, and try to find a flight back to Los Angeles, and hope I can retrieve my luggage before it flies on without me. I’ll make sure Giles knows what’s happened, so he’ll be sure to personally meet you at the airport.”

“I figured he already would be.”

“Well, I’m not sure. I think he mentioned something about sending a car for us. I’m sure he’d have someone looking for us in any case. But I’ll make sure he comes to get you himself.”

William nodded.

“When you land in London, just follow the rest of the passengers through customs, down to the luggage turnstile, etc., and you’ll do just fine,” Wesley said, then remembered something, and pulled out his wallet. “I exchanged about $100 dollars for pounds this morning. I’ll give them to you, since I won’t be needing them.”

“It looks different,” William said, reverently examining the different pound notes Wesley handed him.

“Ah, that’s right,” Wesley said. “Mostly coins back in your day, wasn’t it?”

William nodded. “Are there any coins still?”

*** “Yes, of course; just not quite as many as there used to be. And everyone carries bills now, just as much as coinage.”

William took this in, as he reached for his own wallet. He pulled out five twenties and handed them to Wesley.

“I’m really sorry to leave off like this; I was rather looking forward to going home for a bit. I was also enjoying the company.”

“Thank you; as was I,” William said, smiling.

“Well, I guess I’d better be off then,” Wesley said, standing up to get his carry-on bag from the compartment above the seats. “You sure you’ll be alright from this point?”

“I think I can manage,” William said. He stood up, as Wesley slung his carry-on over his shoulder.

“It’s been a true pleasure, William. I hope we get a chance to talk again sometime. Actually, since I expect you’ll be coming back to California, there’s no reason why we can’t,” Wesley said, extending his hand.

William took his hand, and they shook. He stood in the aisle, watching as Wesley walked down the plane aisle, until he turned toward the tunnel leading to the terminal.

The rest of the trip was for him, and him alone to make.

END CHAPTER 174


 

CHAPTER 175 - WELCOME TO LONDON

NOVEMBER 21, 2009
FRIDAY
1:00AM

Wide-awake, William stared out the window into the inky black night, as the plane started its six-hour trip across the Atlantic Ocean. Since departing almost an hour ago, the plane had flown up the New York and Canada coastlines, finally leaving land altogether after Newfoundland. He checked his watch; it was already early morning there, so he'd be landing around midday.

A middle-aged woman who’d boarded in New York, had been assigned the seat on the aisle, but had left his row when she discovered her friend further back, had an unoccupied seat next to her, as well. He sighed with relief when she’d grabbed her stuff from the overhead compartment and bid him a nice trip. She’d been friendly enough, but very talkative. Like him, she hadn’t seemed like she would be sleeping anytime soon. Now that she was gone though, he had nothing to occupy his mind with except regrets.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, he walked to the galley area where Wesley had indicated the 'duty-free' shop was located. Maybe he could find a book to help him pass the time.

“Can I get something for you?”

William turned to see the flight attendant behind him.

“Um...yeah, I thought I might find a book to read here; something to help pass the time.”

“I’m sorry; I'm not allowed to open it up for you, now that we’re over the water.”

“Why on earth not?”

She shrugged apologetically. “I’m afraid it’s a law, stupid that it may be, we’ve got to abide by it.”

“Bugger!”

She eyed him appreciatively for a moment, this platinum haired, black leather- wearing stud muffin, with cheekbones to die for. Unconsciously, her tongue darted out, licking her bottom lip, as quite a few ideas about just how he could pass the time fast-forwarded through her mind like an X-rated movie on a teenaged boy's personal DVD player.

“I think I’ve got something to help you pass the time,” she said, with a suggestive smile before he could turn away.

William’s eyebrows quirked up, “Yeah, what might that be, luv?”

She grabbed onto the sleeve of his coat, and started pulling him along the aisle after her, toward the front of the plane.

“Where are you taking me?”

She didn’t reply until she stopped in front of a staircase. “Lounge. Up there, just don’t tell anyone you’re not from first class, or that I let you go up, okay?”

“You sure? Don’t want you to get in any trouble on my account,” William said, with a mischievous smile.

“Yeah, probably won’t be but a handful of people up there, anyway.”

“Thanks.”

She sighed wistfully, as she watched him walking up the stairs, wishing it wasn’t unprofessional for her to ask for his phone number. Or that she wasn’t already married.

“Married, not dead,” she reminded herself.

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

William pulled himself up to his full height as he entered, trying to look as though he belonged, but nobody paid him any mind. There were nary a dozen or so patrons in the whole place. The warm, neutral tones, offset by the deep, rich wood of the bar and furnishings gave a cozy feel to the spacious lounge.

He chose a seat at the bar, and looked at the long list of beers they offered. He though of getting a Harp or Guinness, but chose Coors. Not because he actually preferred the taste, but because the first time he’d had one was when they’d camped in Colorado at Mesa Verde.

William didn’t notice right away, but an older man sitting at a nearby table turned to look at him, when he gave the bartender his order.

Trained by the hard lessons these last few months had schooled him in, coupled with his stint at Ipso Facto, William soon felt himself being watched. He looked up at the mirror, and caught the man's angry eyes as they stared at him. The man finally looked away, but it left him with a disquieted feeling. The man’s voice rose from across the room, but couldn't make out what he was saying. The others at his table, appeared to be trying to calm him down, as they surreptitiously glanced William's way every now and again. The uneasy feeling didn’t leave, until he saw the others appear to escort the man back out of the lounge, and back down to the cabin.

“Want another?”

William looked at the clock behind the bar. He wasn’t really drinking the one he had in front of him, but he had been sitting there for nearly an hour. He nodded, and the man dumped his old one, and brought him a second can.

“Is it alright if I go and sit in that booth?” he asked, pointing toward the far wall.

“Sure,” the bartender said, starting to pour the beer into a plastic cup.

“That’s alright, I’ll have the can.”

“Sorry, can’t let you; same reason there are no bottles allowed on the plane.”

“Oh, right,” he said, picking up the cup of beer he hadn’t really wanted in the first place, except for the memory it conjured. Now it might as well be a cup of warm piss as far as he was concerned.

He made his way across the room, and to the booth. William didn’t realize how tense he’d been, until he felt his back relax into the well-made seat. As was his habit, he always carried around a small notebook with him in order to write down things as they occurred to him, whether it be a piece of a poem stuck in his mind, or just a reminder. Of course, in this world, Palm Pilots, Blackberries, and the like had taken the place of pen and paper, but he was still most comfortable with those.

His concession to the new age was his cell phone and computer, but he never imagined he’d find enjoyment in reading an eBook, rather than the feeling a real one in his hands gave him. He never considered trying to type out his thoughts and feelings on a machine. Computers were fine for reports, research, and even email. In his most personal musings, however, he needed the physical sensation of seeing his words, scripted by his own hand appear on paper. Besides, his handwriting was something he was rather proud.

Of course, finding inspiration was another thing, especially when he was depressed. Pen poised in the air, he sat there staring at the notebook not knowing quite where to begin.

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

William hadn’t realized he’d dozed off until he awoke to find the same old man who had been staring at him when he was at the bar, now sitting opposite him in the booth.

“What do you want?” William asked him.

“I know who you are. I’ve remembered you ever since that night in New York!”

“What night? What are you talking about?” William asked, now alarmed.

“The night you killed my wife!”

“The night I...? What? I’ve never met you! I don’t know what you’re talking about?” William said, paling.

“Oh, you know very well. You think I could forget your face? Your face is forever etched into my memory, my nightmares! Everytime I see a picture of Elaine, I see your face breaking my wife’s neck! My beautiful wife,” he cried out.

Shaking, William stood up, just as a man and a woman approached the table.

“Joe! What are you doing? Is he bothering you?” asked the woman.

“It’s him! I tell you it’s him! He’s the one who killed your mother! Him and the black haired woman,” he said to the middle-aged man.

“It was him! Him and the black haired woman,” he yelled, looking around as if he had missed seeing her somewhere.

“Dad! Look at him, he’s almost half my age! How could he have killed mom back in ’65? He wouldn’t have even been born then? How old are you?” he asked William.

“Twenty-nine,” William breathed out, barely above a whisper.

“I don’t care what he says! It’s him! It’s his face, same hair, same coat, even the same scar!”

William lifted his hand to his eyebrow unconsciously.

“You see that? He knows!”

William shook his head, just as another man who was in their group approached.

“Get dad back downstairs, he’s causing a scene. Dad thinks this is the man who killed mom.”

The man took one look at William, and rolled his eyes.

“Dad, the man would be old like you by now. This man wasn’t even born when mom died!”

“That’s what I told him,” the other son said.

“It’s him I tell you, it’s him!” he yelled, as the second man and woman led him away. Thankfully, the bar was empty by now, except for the bartender.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that. My dad has early-stage Alzheimer’s, and he doesn’t know what he’s saying. I’m Joe Green, by the way; same as my dad.”

William didn’t say anything. The man cleared his throat, finally.

“Look, can I buy you a drink or something? You look like you could use one.”

William shook his head, “No. Thank you. I think I’ll just...go back to my seat.”

“Okay. Again, I’m really sorry about that. If there’s anything...”

“No; nothing,” William said, as he shakily made his way to the stairs.

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

9:00AM
LONDON

“Damn!” Giles said, slamming down the phone.

This morning wasn’t going at all like he’d hoped. First he’d been awaken in the middle of the night by Wesley telling him that William was arriving on his own, which necessitated someone being on hand to meet him at the airport. Secondly, he’d waited three long and very painful weeks to get in to see his dentist, and now the appointment was right during the time he should be going off to the airport. He’d hoped that another of the dentist’s patients would’ve been so kind as to change times with him, but so far it wasn’t looking good.

Looking in his Rolodex, he pulled out his cell phone, and called one of the potentials.

“Charlotte, how would you like to make a little trip to the airport for me?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
12:00 NOON
LONDON

“’cuse me,” Giles said, as he reached into his pocket for his phone, his mouth full of cotton, tongue and lips numb from anesthetic.

“Your car, what? Damnbit!” Giles grumbled. “No. I know, Charlotte. Can’t be helped... I’ll go...I dust hope William waits ‘til I can get dhere.”

With a quick, effusively mumbled apology to the dentist, Giles hurried out of the office, and hopped into his car, praying that traffic wouldn’t hinder him more than necessary. Too bad that the London City Airport was only used by those flying in for business from around the country; that would’ve been perfect.

“Damnb’d wampire!” he cursed, as traffic slowed to a crawl on the M4 Motorway. “Damnb’d fawmer wampire,” Giles begrudgingly corrected himself.

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

William sat in his seat for the rest of the trip; afraid to even gets up to use the bathroom, lest he run into the old man again.

The old man’s words played again and again in his head; fearing that what he’d said had been true. Was he, rather Spike in New York back then? He feared it could’ve easily been so. How many others had he killed? People who were someone’s wife, husband, brother, sister, or child? How many families had he torn apart? How many people had he killed, as Spike, for over one hundred years?

Hundreds?

Thousands even?

How many had died because of him?

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

12:00 NOON
HEATHROW AIRPORT

London had always been huge. In fact, it ranked as the world’s largest city when last he’d been there. However, even given the fact that he’d never seen it from the air, he was literally gobsmacked at what he was now seeing, as the plane came in for a landing.

William sat and waited, until he was sure everyone from rows ahead of him were already off before retrieving his bag from the overhead, containing the laptop and some other personal items, and making his way into the airport.

Fifteen minutes later, after going through customs, he made his way to the baggage area. After retrieving his suitcase, he made his way back to the terminal where he’d seen people greeting those who had arrived. Half an hour later, he was still sitting there, and everyone else had found their friends and loved ones and departed. He found Mr. Giles’ number, and after figuring out how to use his cell phone in England (no overseas extensions to dial) he called his home. There was no answer; nor was there one at his office, but he left a voice mail.

William finally decided to go outside the terminal and have a smoke.

Giles was in a lane of traffic across from the British Airways terminal when he spotted him. Stunned, he slowed down for a better look. Of course he knew from Buffy’s phone call, after she’d seen William in Los Angeles, that he’d changed his looks, but Giles had still expected to see the man he’d met last year. Instead he was staring at the splitting image of the vampire that had died over six years ago. An impatient horn sounded behind him, and he hurriedly rolled down the window.

“Spike,” he started to call, then stopped. Louder, he called out across the lanes of traffic, “William!”

Fumbling in his coat for a cigarette, William had just found his lighter, when he heard his name called. He looked across the double airport lanes of traffic, and there was Mr. Giles. William waved toward him

“Stay there, I’ll be there straight away!” Mr. Giles yelled, maneuvering the car to the inner lane, so he could make a U-turn. A few minutes later he pulled up to the curb.

“Get in before I get a ticket!” Mr. Giles said, his mouth still numb, but better.

“Right,” William answered, quickly throwing his luggage in the back seat. Mr. Giles pulled out, before his door was shut.

“I trust you had a good trip?”

“Yes, I...” William started to answer, then looked at him strangely. The side of Mr. Giles face was swollen up. “Are you alright, Mr. Giles?”

“Me? Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked until he saw William eyeing the side of his face. He rolled his eyes.

“Ah yes...that,” he said, and went on to explain the predicament he’d found himself in.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve just taken a cab...”

“Nonsense, it wasn’t your doing. Oh, and William?” Giles asked, as he watched the younger man looking out the car windows with a combination of shock and awe.

“Yes?”

“Welcome to London.”

END CHAPTER 175

CHAPTER 176 - SETTLING IN

NOVEMBER 20, 2009
THURSDAY
12:45PM

Giles maneuvered the car through London traffic, trying to avoid the busiest roads, a feat none-too-easy at this time of day.

For his part, William answered Giles' mild questions, all the while looking out on a city, that to his mind, he'd only been away from for only a little more than a year, but which now showed over a century's change.

Where are we going?" William asked,

"Greenwich."

William nodded absentmindedly. "Was there once or twice, when I was a youngster. Saw the docks."

"Still there," Giles answered, with a smile. The park, too. A lovely place, really, and I'm only a few blocks away, should you want to take a walk some time. Giles went on describing to William the neighborhood’s antique stores, bookshops, museums and parks, and other points of interest in, and around, the area.

“Were crossing the river now,” Giles said, he headed southward. He didn’t have to mention the name; there could be only one river.

“The Thames,” William whispered, mostly to himself. He stared out at the majestic river, which served as a natural boundary, dividing the city north from south, poor from rich, industry from mercantile, monarch from subject. At least it used to more so in his day. Not that the monarchs didn't have castles, property, and other vast holdings, over the whole of London, as well as the rest of the country.

Wesley informs me you attended Oxford,” Giles said. If someone had told Giles back in Sunnydale that Spike had attended Oxford, he would’ve laughed right in their face. However, having met William last April as a human, and very much as he had been over one hundred years ago, this new knowledge didn’t surprise him much. “Great school, though I’m a Cambridge man myself. Perhaps while you’re here, we could take a day trip to Oxford, so you might have a look around again, if you’d like.”

William nodded distractedly, but didn’t comment. At this point, he was on sensory overload. Giles noticed William's responses grow more and more reticent and finally stopped asking questions, or narrating. That suited him fine, as he'd had to work extra hard because of the novocaine anyway. He wasn't sure what he was even going to do with the former William the Bloody, except most likely drive a very big wedge between him and Buffy, for his not letting her know of William staying with him.

Giles drove on in silence.

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

“Almost there,” Giles said, as he turned off the main road, and onto a quiet, residential neighborhood. The brick houses all seemed fairly large, though nearer to its neighbor than what he had been used to growing up. Still, this was part of London, and historically, space was at a premium. Mr. Giles explained to him that some of the larger houses, were actually two or three family dwelling flats. His, on the other hand, was formerly a flat for two families, but he’d bought the building, and over the years, converted it to a single residence.

“Here we are,” Mr. Giles said, pulling in front of the converted flat on Winforton Street.

At first glance it seemed like a rather large house, symmetrical on each side, but on further inspection, it did rather seem like two separate residences stuck together by a central door and middle section. Each side had it’s own peculiarities and differences, from the windows, to the shape of the roof above the upper floors.

Giles smiled wryly on noticing the perplexed look on William’s face.

“Bit of an oddity, isn’t it?”

“Almost optical illusion.”

“Yes, quite. Well, let’s get your bags and get you settled.”

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

3:00PM

The main hallway, brightly lit from natural light from upper floor windows, contrasted with the dark honeyed bronze color of the walls. In the center of the hallway was a gracefully curved, cream colored stairway leading to the second and third floors; its light color set off by a dark tapestry runner, and dark wooden banister. A strange feature was the presence of a fireplace, or at least the remnants of a former one, in the hallway. It looked as though cream colored trim, matching that of the doorways, had been added around and above the former fireplace. The rectangle area above now used as a serve-through to the kitchen area.

One doorway on the right lead to the study/office area, the other, the first floor bathroom. On the left was a small parlor; the walls were dark, almost olive green, while the baseboards, trim, and ceiling was done in a soft yellow-cream. A mirror above the small, ornate gas-log fireplace made the room appear larger. An old-fashioned clock, the only thing to grace its mantle. The dark wood, Victorian styled furniture sat along the edges of a rich, Persian carpet in the room’s center. The only thing modern was a chandelier, which was one of those made to appear old. Framed pictures of famous Englishmen out of history completed the look.

William followed Giles through another doorway to the dark, copper hued kitchen. Here, the trim work was rough looking in comparison to the parlor; a knotty pine look, reminiscent of the Wild West, in William's mind. However, the small, brick fireplace on one wall reminded him of English, rather than American homes; at least what he knew of them. All in all, it was a modernized kitchen, with a nod to the West.

Off the kitchen, was a small, enclosed porch leading out to a large, communal green space, connecting all the other bordering residences in the neighborhood. Mr. Giles told him that it was called The Knoll, due to the rise in the middle, and that although technically, it belonged to the town of Greenwich, the residents took care of it, more or less. However, since the town's ordinance prevented anyone from fencing in their backyards; he didn't bother planting much of a garden.

“Not to be confused with The Grassy Knoll. Never mind,” Giles said; realizing William wouldn’t have any memory of that, although Spike surely would have.

“The Kennedy assassination? I saw a documentary once; a terrible thing,” William said, shaking his head. Softly he added, “Elizabeth thought I should catch up on common knowledge.”

“Ah, of course,” Giles said clearing his throat. “Well, actually our knoll is also referred to as Mini Point. The Point being a much larger grassy knoll a block or so over. You can see it from the upper floors,” Giles explained. “You can also see beyond all the way to Black Heath. You’d be able to even see Greenwich Park, except that the house’s windows aren’t facing that direction.”

Off the other side of the kitchen, was the dining room. As the kitchen had no table of it’s own; this was where all meals were taken. The dining room walls were dark mahogany, trimmed with the same soft yellow-cream as the rest of the rooms.

After the tour, Giles took William up to the third floor. "It's bright now," he said, referring to the two sets of windows - one facing The Knoll, the other, larger one facing the front; under which sat a decorative settee. "At night though, you'll need these," he said, flipping a switch, which turned on the light in the center of the hallway, as well as two sconces, one next to each door.

“This is your room,” Giles said, opening the door on the left.

William's eyes swept around the bright room, which was a good size, despite the walls slanting on two sides, as they conformed to the gabled shape of the roof. The cream, patterned wallpaper, which covered the walls and ceiling, offset the dark wood furniture. On the lower half of the walls, were reproductions of masters such as Renoir, Matisse, and Monet, also framed in dark wood for the most part. The wood floor was almost fully covered by a dark green Persian rug, with a large cream and maroon flower design throughout.

Across the room was the bed. Between the window and the foot of the bed sat a regular dining table, and three chairs. A lace tablecloth hung over the edge; in the middle sat an old-fashioned light, the sort that held fuel in its base. A dresser with a tall mirror sat further back in the corner, and next to it, some smaller tables, and of particular interest to him, a bookcase, with what looked like many, many volumes of old classics.

Against the nearest wall was a large wooden steamer chest, a small night table, on top of which was a pitcher and bowl, the sort used to wash and shave with, before bathrooms; the sort he'd used daily as a young man. He wondered if they were still used in England, and if he was expected to use it, as there was no bathroom, or loo, as Mr. Giles had referred to it, on this floor. He was thinking he was only glad that there were no longer any chamber pots, having been happily spoiled by modern plumbing, when he saw something next to the bed.

"You'll have to excuse the hodgepodge of furniture in here. I gave you the larger room, and moved out what I could, but I didn't have room for everything across the hall, and downstairs.”

"It's very nice," William assured him quickly, hoping he hadn't done anything to give Mr. Giles the wrong impression.

“If you need an extra blanket, there are some in the trunk. Oh, and if you’d like a desk up here, rather than the table, I think we could arrange that.”

“No, it’s fine,” William said, then hesitatingly added, “I have a question.”

“Yes?”

William nodded towards the object next to his bed.

Giles looked towards where William was directing his glance, and grinned.

“I bought it at an estate sale, just as an antique, an object ‘d art, if you will. You’re very welcomed, and most encouraged to use the regular loo on the second floor,” Giles said, with a chuckle.

“Oh thank God,” William said, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Why don’t you take some time to relax for a while? You’ve had a long journey, and you’re bound to have jet lag.”

“I guess I am a bit tired,” William conceded.

Giles nodded knowingly. “Why don’t you come downstairs in about an hour? I’m sure Mrs. Greeves won’t mind serving an early dinner,” he said, referring to the housekeeper who William had met briefly, when they’d come in.

“Thank you,” William said.

Giles nodded and left William alone.

After unpacking, William stretched out on top of the white down comforter that lay on the bed. He took out the pocket watch and flipped it open. Although he’d changed his wristwatch, he’d kept that one on California time. It was now just a little past eight in the morning in Julian - almost exactly a day to the hour since he’d left; only a day since he’d seen or touched Elizabeth, but the distance made it already seem like so much more.

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

3:30PM

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, only close his eyes for a while, just in order to alleviate the headache that had once again come back to plague him. He awoke with a start and looked at his watch. He got up quickly and went down to the second floor to use the bathroom, and freshen up, then down to the main floor.

He didn’t hear anything, as he looked throughout the rooms. The dining room table was set, but there was no evidence of any food being eaten recently. The kitchen likewise, was empty. He walked through it, and came out into the main passage. He heard soft music coming from what Mr. Giles had called his office/living room.

“Ah, William,” Giles said, seeing him tentatively stick his head in the doorway. “Have a nice nap?”

“Um, yes. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to fall asleep for so long.”

“That’s quite alright. Mrs. Greeves wasn’t happy, but then again, I don’t believe she ever is,” he said with a slight smile. “However, I did make her keep your meal warm. It’s in the oven. You must be hungry, yes?”

William nodded.

“Good, why don’t I get that out, then?”

William followed Giles to the kitchen, where he pulled out a crock full of a hearty beef stew, covered by a heavy glass lid. As soon as Mr. Giles took it off, the aroma assailed his senses, and his stomach gurgled in anticipation.

Giles ladled out a big bowl for William, and took it over to the dining room table. On the buffet, he cut some slices of sourdough bread and brought that, along with some butter to the table.

“Would you care for a beer?”

William started to accept, then thought better of it. “Could I bother you for some tea, instead?”

“Certainly. You go ahead and get started, while I fix that; no need to wait.”

Giles brought the pot back in a few minutes; smiling when he saw that William had made short shrift of the stew. He refilled his bowl from the pot, then sat down and drank his own cup of tea, as he watched William.

“I was thinking that after your dinner, I might show you around Greenwich a bit, while there’s still a bit of daylight left, if that’s alright with you. Unless you’d just rather stay in; I’ll leave it up to you.”

“That would be alright,” William said.

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

5:30PM

For over an hour, Mr. Giles had driven around both Greenwich and Black Heath, stopping to show William the various sites, some of which he’d seen in his day, some much newer, such as the monstrosity known as Millennium Dome.
“This is where the world starts,” Mr. Giles had said, when he stopped in front of the Royal Observatory in Greenwich Park. “It’s where East is divided from West at the Prime Meridian; longitude 0° 0' 0'', and Greenwich Mean Time is the basis of every world time zone which sets the time of day and is at the center of the time zone map.”
“I thought I remembered my father telling me that it was in France,” William remarked.
“He was quite right; it was in France, until they moved it here in 1884, when they changed the coordinates then. I don’t suppose the French were very happy with it, I’d dare say,” Giles said with a chuckle.
“I don’t suppose so,” William agreed.
Now they sat in the popular Trafalgar Tavern; Giles having ended the tour here, after pointing out the building a few blocks away, which now housed the New Council of Watchers.
“Here you go,” Giles said, handing William a draught as he took his seat opposite him.

“Thanks,” William said, pensively looking out the windows at the river.

Giles studied him across the table. “So, what do you think, William?”

William turned to look at him; “It feels like I’m starting all over...again. When I first came back, I didn’t know any different. I just thought all my memories of being a young man were purely some sort of fabrication my mind had invented. After all, how could they have been true? Being here now...it feels as though I've only been away a short time, but everything is different, as if I'm some sort of time traveler."

“Well, I guess in a way, you are. Being human once again, and not remembering anything in between; that makes you very much like a time traveler.”

William didn’t respond.

Giles took off his glasses, polishing them on a napkin, before replacing them. “If I may say so, you’ve done remarkably well. You caught up to your contemporaries in only...”

“Contemporaries?” William said, bitterness creeping into his voice, “I have no contemporaries, my contemporaries are dead and buried!”

Giles took a deep breath. With William looking so much like Spike, it was an effort he was well aware he was making not to say something sarcastic out of years of habit. Whereas, William needed to be treated with kid gloves, Spike never deserved any such treatment; at least as far as he saw it.

“Yes, that’s true. However, you know that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean your true chronological contemporaries from when you were born, but from the age that you came back at now. You are very much capable of being in step with them in every way. I’d say Buffy was a very fine teacher in that regard, but I’d also venture to say, she had a good student to work with.”

William smiled a bit at the former statement. Elizabeth had showed him the world, and what it felt like to be a man in it. At least he thought he’d had it all figured out, until he’d found out he’d not been a man, but a monster for over one hundred years.

They finished their beer in silence.

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

After they’d returned from the pub, Mr. Giles had invited William into the study for a nightcap. Not wanting to offend, he’d accepted. His stomach now painfully reminding him that it would be best all the way around for him to find another way to be sociable in the future. The two men had talked of the differences between The States and England, about the different sports, and about general topics. Thankfully, the conversation had stayed light, even when it turned towards Elizabeth and her friends.

“Well, William, it’s been a long day for you, and I suspect you’re more tired than you’re letting on. What do you say we call it a night?”

At the thought of sleep, an unbidden yawn escaped William’s mouth. “Guess I am at that, Mr. Giles.”

“Please, call me Giles.”

“Giles,” William repeated, getting up and starting toward the hallway after his host.

“You’ll probably still be asleep when I leave in the morning, William. I’ll instruct Mrs. Greeves to let you rest. If she’s not here when you awaken, you’ll find your breakfast in the oven.”

“Thank you,” William said.

“I just like to suggest, if you haven’t already done so, though there’s no rush; you might try to put into writing, the exact things you hope to accomplish while you’re here, and what it is you would like from me.”

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

1:00AM
NOVEMBER 21, 2009
FRIDAY

Once in his room, William sat at the table for nearly an hour, trying to organize his thoughts enough to write them down in the journal he’d found on top of the bookcase. A note indicated it was for his use. . However, the words wouldn’t come, and all he could do was to sit there, dumbly staring at the blank pages. Now, almost two hours later, William lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling as he thought about the last twenty-four hours, the man from the plane and his accusation, and the question Mr. Giles had posed to him.

Getting up, he walked across the room, and reached into his coat, retrieving what he was looking for, and brought it back to the bed with him. Before leaving the house in Julian yesterday morning, he’d spotted one of Elizabeth’s camisoles lying on the bathroom floor, and in a spur-of-the-moment decision, stuffed it into his coat's pocket. Closing his eyes, he lightly ran the silky garment over his face, inhaling the lingering scent of her it held. The words Giles had spoken earlier that evening ran though his mind as he drifted off to sleep; “This is where the world starts.”

END CHAPTER 176

CHAPTER 177 - IN THE BEGINNING


NOVEMBER 21, 2009
FRIDAY
10:30AM

Mrs. Greeves sighed, looking up the stairs with a scowl on her face. Mr. Giles had said his guest would likely be sleeping in, but this was ridiculous. The food she’d been keeping on warm in the oven was surely becoming inedible after three hours despite it being on low, and she didn’t have time to make a fresh breakfast before returning to make Mr. Giles’ midday meal as well. She’d put off her vacuuming hoping Mr. Lazybones would get up, but it seemed that wasn’t about to happen anytime soon.

Nervously, she ventured another look at the clock in the hallway. Only one hour to go, before picking up her three-year-old granddaughter from preschool, (a child she was now raising for her missing, drug addicted daughter ) another fifteen minutes to drop her to the babysitter’s, then another half-hour to get back here to make dinner.

“The hell with his sleep,” she said, “People have jobs to go about.” When was the last time she’d gotten a good night’s sleep anytime in the past year? Not at all! What with the responsibility of her granddaughter, and the heartache of not knowing what had become of her own daughter.

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

11:00AM

“Sex on the Beach? Coming right up,” William said, pouring the ingredients into the blender. Vodka, peach schnapps, cranberry, orange, and pineapple juices, ice...

“Huh?”

Disoriented, William awoke to the persistent, loud hum of a machine. For a moment, he thought he was still at Ipso Facto, Too.

Looking around him, he remembered then where he was - England, in the home of Mr. Giles, and the noise he now identified as a vacuum cleaner. Something was twisted around his hand, and he pulled it loose. It was Elizabeth’s camisole.

He reached over and took the watch fob off of the nightstand and flipped it open. It was 3:00am in Julian. Instantly, regret overtook him as he thought about being there with her, within the warmth of her arms...

No.

He’d come here for a reason, to find out about his past, and to try to find a way to go on with his future, their future.

The answer to the questions Mr. Giles posed; so hard to come by last night as he stared down at the blank journal pages, now streamed rapidly into his consciousness.

“Sleep peacefully, luv,” he whispered, as he got up and went over to the table.

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

1:00PM

“Ah, William, there you are,” Giles said, looking into the study.

“Afternoon,” William said, closing the book he’d been reading.
“I hope you don’t mind my being in here.”

Giles shook his head. The things that he wouldn’t want William to stumble onto, at this point, had been secured away in his locked file cabinet.

“What do you say we have some dinner?” he asked.

“I’m not sure I’m hungry, but I’ll accompany you. I’m afraid I slept in much longer than I normally would, so I had a late breakfast. I’m afraid Mrs. Greeves wasn’t very happy with me.”

Giles smiled, “Don’t pay her any mind, William. She’s a tough old bird, but she’s a good person. Gives me a hard time quite regularly, and I pay her salary!”

William waited for Giles in the dining room, while he washed up.

“Will you be having your dinner then, Mr. Worthington?”

“I don’t think I’ll...”

“Just bring him a plate,” Giles said, walking in, “that way William can have something if he changes his mind, alright, Emily?”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Giles,” she said, going back into the kitchen.

Mrs. Greeves returned with a plate and bowl, slightly banging them down.
Next, she carried in a large tureen, containing the same stew William recognized as the one he’d eaten yesterday. She also brought a small roast to the table.

After serving Giles, she turned toward William, arching her eyebrow in question. He nodded, and she served him as well.

“Thank you,” he told her. She only grunted in response.

“I’m afraid the roast may still be a bit pink, Mr. Giles. I couldn’t get it into the oven as early as I wanted, as someone still had their breakfast waiting for them,” she said, pointedly glancing over at William.

“I’m sure it will be fine. These things happen,” Giles said, easily. He dare not suggest to her, that she might just as easily have cooked something on the stovetop. He did that recently, and she had threatened to quit if he was unpleased with the way she ran her kitchen. Wisely, he refrained.

“Do you need anything else?” Mrs. Greeves asked.

“No, that will do.”

“Very well,” she said curtly, departing.

William watched until the door swung closed between the dining room and kitchen, before speaking. “I don’t think she cares much for me.”

“It’s not that,” Giles said, lowering his voice. “This past year Mrs. Greeves has been charged with the care of her three-year-old grandchild, because her daughter was stripped of her parental rights due to her drug use and neglecting the child. Now, she’s gone missing, as well.”

“God!”

“Needless to say, Emily has been a bit less than pleasant, if you will. Who wouldn’t be?”

William nodded.

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

2:30PM

Giles had suggested that William accompany him back to the Council, and he’d readily accepted. He'd been unimpressed when they entered a rather small, two-story building on a small street near the river, but he'd been fooled. As they said, looks can be deceiving. Underneath, and at least five times as large as the building appeared from the street, was a vast underground. Five sublevels to be exact, where the real workings of the Council lie.

The first sublevel was devoted to the multi-linguistic schooling of the slayers. Giles explained this was both in human, and demon languages. The second sublevel held was devoted to regular classes. The third level was for training; everything from sparring to gymnastics, karate to hand-to-hand was studied and practiced in these rooms. The fourth sublevel held the dormitories for those slayers who had no other place to live when they were in London attending ‘Slayer School.’ There were only a couple of students around today. Giles explained they only had a half-day’s classes on Fridays, and those that lived close enough, went home. The others usually looked for some weekend’s entertainment, while those that were still here would be on patrol for the evening.

“Is there a lot of...demon activity?”

“Enough to keep us on our toes, but nothing extraordinary; for now.”

Lastly, the fifth sublevel, accessible only by Giles, or one of the other watchers, was the library. William let out a low whistle when the elevator door slid open onto the vast room, filled with at least a couple of thousand volumes.

“You should’ve seen the original Council’s library. It was three times as large as this,” Giles remarked.

“What happened?”

“The First destroyed it back in 2003, before the final battle. The whole building, and everyone in it was blown up.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I believe it was around the same time that The First’s Bringers kidnapped you from Buffy’s house.”

William stopped short outside the elevator, as he tried to recall what he’d been told about that. The night the truth had finally come out, Elizabeth had tried to fill him in on everything he’d been, everything that had happened, but all the bits and pieces of information he’d been told just bled into one another.

“Of course, you don’t remember that, do you?” Giles asked.

William shook his head; “No, I don’t. What did the First want with me?”

Giles started to answer then thought better of it. “Why don’t we just continue our tour for now? We can talk about that, and all your other questions later tonight, once we’re home.”

“Okay,” William agreed, though the way Mr. Giles had avoided his eyes filled him with a sense of dread.

“I understand from Wesley that you know Latin and Greek. He seemed quite impressed.”

“I think he gives me more credit than I deserve,” William replied modestly.

“Perhaps. The reason I asked was that I have some texts that need translating. They seem to be akin to Latin in their construct; a pre-Latin, if you will. Think you’d like to have a go at it?”

“I can try,” William said hesitantly. “I’m not sure if I’ll be of any help, but I’ll take a look.”

“I’ve been meaning to get to them myself, or give them to Willow who seems to be able to break the most difficult language codes, but I haven’t seen her in a couple of months. Of course, I could send them along through Kennedy when she comes up...”

“I’ll try.”

“Good,” Giles said, smiling.

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

5:00PM

“I think it’s time we wrap it up for the day,” Giles said, as he walked to where William was working. For the past couple of hours, while Giles went about the normal Council business, William had sat at a spare desk, studiously trying to decipher a code to the text he’d been given. Every once in a while he asked for some reference on this or that, until finally, after Giles taking him down to the library twice, he’d given him the key, and let him go to do his own research.

William had paled a bit, when he’d asked what sort of language it was supposed to be, and Giles had told him it belonged to a demon tribe that had it’s roots in ancient Phoenicia, but he’d recovered quickly, going on with his work.

“Afraid this is as far as I’ve gotten, and not positive it’s right,” he said, handing Giles the manuscript, with his translation on a notebook next to it. “It was a good thing I’d discovered that other partially deciphered text downstairs. It gave me a good key to start with,” he said, as he handed over what he had finished.

Giles looked it over; both impressed, and he had to admit, a bit put out by how quickly William had worked out how to break the code. Giles smiled broadly to cover his sudden, inexplicably, less than grateful feelings.

“I’d say you’ve done quite well, William,” Giles said, patting him on the back.

“Thanks,” William said, blushing at the praise.

Giles examined his feelings, as he locked up the manuscript and translation in his file cabinet. Was it the fact that he felt like he was being shown up by Spike, whom he’d barely been able to stomach under the best of circumstance; which of course in Sunnydale there never were any best circumstances. Or was it the fact that William was probably as educated as he himself was, if not more so? Could he be fair in his assessment of William’s unique problems and needs, if indeed, these feelings made themselves known, even without provocation?

Stoically, Giles stood up, grabbing his jacket from the clothes tree in the corner.

“What do you say we get out of here?”

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

8:00PM

Giles was on his hands and knees putting wood into the fireplace. He stopped, noticing William standing in the doorway, holding the journal Giles had strategically placed in his room before he arrived.

“Come in,” he said, rising. Walking to the other side of the room, he went to a small bar, and pulled out a bottle of scotch, and poured a good measure into two glasses.

“Water, or straight?”

“Water,” he answered, as he entered the study.

“Have a seat; anywhere is fine,” Giles said noting William’s hesitancy.

Nervously, William nodded, finally taking a seat on one of the two chairs across from the couch.

Giles walked over to him, handing him a glass. “Cheers,” he said, taking a swallow. William followed suit, only taking a small drink, then placed it on the coaster that had been put on the coffee table in front of him.

“So...”

“So...”

“Have you given any though to where you’d like to start?” Giles asked.

William nodded, fidgeting as he opened up the journal. “I suppose, at the beginning.”

“As good a place as any,” Giles said, mildly. “To start, why don’t you tell me what you remember.”

“I don’t remember anything. I mean, after I was...after I was turned; not until I found myself in The Field Museum.”

Giles nodded. “Well, why don’t you tell me what you remember of your last night, to start out with.”

“My last night,” William repeated. “I went to a party at a friend’s home in Kensington. Actually, it was my brother’s friend more than mine; but I was sometimes included because of him.

“You had a brother?” Giles asked, surprised.

William nodded. “Yes, Henry. He was my half-brother, actually. He was a bit older than I was; eight and a half years older, to be precise.”

“Were you close?”

“No, though I adored him when I was small,” William said, sadly. He took a drink, then continued. “He was almost seven when his father; my mom’s first husband died. My father was his father’s second cousin. I think he always hated me, even when I was a small lad. I think it was because of my father; think he always resented his, rather our mother remarrying my da. I remember him always telling me that my father wasn’t nearly as good or smart as his father had been. They’d had been living in Hyde Park, but him and my mum moved to my father’s home in Hampstead; he always felt that was a step down for my mom and him.

“Hampstead? That’s not exactly a poor area,” Giles said.

“No, it wasn’t. Perfectly middle, upper middle class, which is what we were, but it still didn’t quite have the panache I guess as a Hyde Park address did; not quite as urbane.”

“Go on,” Giles coaxed.

“Henry was everything that I never was; outgoing, athletic, popular with not just the ladies, but the gents as well, whereas I was much more shy by nature, bookish, a closet poet,” he said, with a wry smile. “By the time I was entering university, Henry had already bought his own home, had a good position in the banking industry, and a pretty well-to-do group of friends.”

“What about your own friends from your school or university days?”

“I didn’t have too many. Actually, some of Henry’s friend’s younger brothers and sisters were those I went to school with. That’s why I would occasionally get invited along to their parties. I think my mum had some undo influence with him regarding bringing me along. Probably to do with his trust fund from his father,” he said ruefully.

“So, Henry moved out, and you lived at home with your parents still?”

“Just my mum. My da died when I was twelve. He used to design bridges; he traveled a lot, so he was gone a lot, but I adored him. He was a quiet man, unassuming; know what I mean?”

Giles nodded.

“Very smart, though. He read all the classics; guess that’s why I loved them too; still do, for that matter. He’d come home from being away for...I don’t know months at a time, weeks? Hard to recall for sure when you’re a lad, a day can seem like a week, a week like a month. He’d return home, and my mum and me, we’d be so happy to have him back home for a while. I don’t think he ever came home without bringing us all back some little thing from the area he’d been working in. He’d bring pressed flowers for my mum; complete with the common and scientific names. I remember she had a whole scrapbook with them in it from all his travels. For us boys, he’d bring a rock or shell specimen from the area, and explain to us its geology; think he liked science as much as the classics. Sometimes he’d even bring us a book, or small toy.”

“Your father sounds like he was a good man.”

William nodded. “He was. Know what I used to look forward to the most? It wasn’t the small presents, though they were nice, it was that he would read to me from the classics. I loved hearing his voice. Maybe it was because he was gone so much. I was always amazed that he could pick up the story, right at the exact page he’d last been reading to me. When I was older, I asked him how he did that; admitted to him that I’d looked through the book, trying to find if there was some sort of mark; a bent page corner, a thread, anything that gave him a clue. Know what he said?”

Giles shook his head.

“He told me that it was his way to let me know that he loved me. That he committed to memory the page number, and that every night he would remind himself of that page number, and be reminded of me...”

“Good, and wise, to boot.”

“Yeah, he was. He was in France overseeing the building of a bridge, when there was an accident. He died instantly,” William said softly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Long time ago...”

“Still.”

Lost in his own thoughts, William lifted the glass, his finger tracing the edge.

Giles cleared his throat; “So, you went to a party in Kensington that last night that you’re able to recall. Do you remember anything past the party?”

“I remember leaving the party in rather a hurry,” he said, biting his lower lip. “There was a woman there that I’d fancied for a long time. Don’t know why I thought she might feel the same. Anyway, after getting humiliated in front of her by Henry’s friends, guess I thought I’d go for broke, and tell her how I felt. I really thought, at least hoped, she would...”

“Seems so silly now; can’t imagine what I saw in her. Cecily,” William said, shaking his head when he contrasted what he’d imagined real love to be, to that which he’d shared with Elizabeth. “That was her name. Never said I love you to a woman before that night; at least not out loud.”

“She didn’t reciprocate your feelings, I take it?” Giles asked gently.

“Reciprocate?” William guffawed. “Shot me down right and proper she did; said I was beneath her; probably was.”

William took a drink, remembering with embarrassment how humiliated he’d felt, how she’d brought him to tears, how he’d run out into the night, how he...

Suddenly, he looked up at Giles, his eyes wide.

“You remember something?”

“I think so,” William said, with a small nod. “I left the party in a hurry, and was sort of stumbling down the street, which was quite lively, despite the late hour. I wound up in some sort of shed, I believe. I think...” William stood up, and walked to the other side of the room.

“What is it, William?”

“It’s her. I can see her,” he said, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Who? Cecily?”

William rapidly shook his head, “No, Drusilla.”

Giles got up and walked to where William was standing. “What do you see?”

“I see myself, sitting on some bales of hay, or crates; not sure which, in this shed. Then she’s there, at the door, this dark haired beauty, the likes of which I’d never seen... She asks why I’m crying,” he said, taking a quick look at Giles, glad to not see any scorn in the older man’s face.

“What do you say?”

“I don’t know, but she’s saying things to me, as if she could see inside my very soul, things I’d never admitted to any other living being.”

Giles nodded, “Dru was prescient, it was one of her...gifts, for lack of a better term.”

“And then...oh God!” William said, turning away.

“What’s happening, William?”

“She’s...she’s touching me...intimately. Nobody had ever...oh God. I’m trying to resist her; think I told her my mum was waiting for me,” he said, his voice starting to break.

Giles put his hand on his arm, “It’s alright. Go on.”

“She asks if I want it, and I tell her I do. Then her...her face. I can see it! Her face changes,” he said, swallowing hard, as he backed away from Giles. William walked over to the coffee table, and drained the rest of the glass, coughing as he set it back down.

“I let her, I let her do it to me! I let her bite me! She asked if I wanted it, and I said yes. I said yes!”

“William!” Giles said, walking over and grabbing his arm. “You didn’t ‘let’ her. I doubt you knew what you were agreeing to; you thought it was sex, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. I guess, but when she changed...?”

“She tricked you. It’s what she does; what she did,” Giles amended. “It happened to me.”

“What do you mean? You’re not a vampire! You weren’t one, were you?”

“No, not that,” Giles said, then told him about the incidents leading up to the death of Jenny, and how Dru had pretended to be her in order to get information out of him.

“I knew better, I’m a Watcher for Christ’s sake, but I still believed at that moment that the presence before me, was indeed Jenny. Told her what she wanted to know, too. So don’t think for a moment, that you could’ve resisted her. Not only is she prescient, but she had the gift or trick of being able to hold you in her thrall if you looked into her eyes. If you had tried to resist her, don’t doubt for a moment that she would’ve just taken you by force and left you dead most likely.”

“Would’ve been better that way,” William said, miserably. “Wouldn’t have been...him, then. Wouldn’t have been a monster!”

“You can’t change the past, you can only go on,” Giles said.

William just shook his head, as he thought of the old man whose wife’s death he was most certainly responsible for; hers and how many others?

“As much as this goes against my nature to say this; even Dru was a person at one time. From what I understand, she was driven mad by Angelus before he turned her. He was the type who liked to torture his victims first, mentally, and physically. He killed everyone in her family, one-by-one, and let her be a witness to it, until she was driven mad with despair. At the time, the gift of sight was looked upon by the church as being inherently evil, a sign from the devil. It’s not hard to imagine that Drusilla would’ve felt that the deaths were a punishment from God for her ‘sight,’ confirming to her that she was evil. Nowadays, much of society would consider such ‘seeing,’ a gift for the good. Even police departments will occasionally use someone with that sort of a gift to help solve a crime. None-the-less, Drusilla sought refuge from what she considered her curse in the church. Know what happened the day she was ready to take her vows as a nun?”

“What?” William asked.

“Angelus turned her.”

William shuddered.

“I’m not telling you this so that you can feel sorry for her. I know very well what destruction she could reign down, and you obviously know that first hand.”

William nodded. “I do. She tried to kill me. Again. I dusted her.”

“I know. You don’t know me very well, William. I don’t know that we ever did actually know each other. If you did remember me from Sunnydale, however, you’d know that I’m no fan of vampires, not even the souled variety. Not that there were any others than you and Angel, rather Spike and Angel, that I know of,” he said, wryly. “I don’t know if I ever believed that there was anything other than a demon inside a corpse who has usurped the former human’s memories. I know Buffy would disagree, at least when it came to you. Still, there have been times I’ve had my doubts. One doesn’t have to like vampires, to still feel for the person who used to inhabit that body’s shell.”

“Drusilla,” William said, softly. “Hate the sin, not the sinner? Or in this case, the vampire, not the former person they’d been?”

“Something like that, if you will.”

William let out a big sigh.

“I think we’ve had enough talk for one night, don’t you? We’ll talk again tomorrow if you wish.”

William nodded, rising.

“Good night, Giles.”

“Good night, William,” Giles said, standing up and watching from the doorway as William made his way up the staircase. He walked back over to the bar, and poured himself a double shot, before sitting down at his desk, and taking out his folder on William the Bloody.

END CHAPTER 177

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