CHAPTER 178 – WHAT YOU’RE HERE TO DETERMINE

NOVEMBER 26, 2009
WEDNESDAY
9:00AM

Mrs. Greeves looked up, surprised to see William dressed, and coming down the stairs, much before his usual time.

"Good morning, Mrs. Greeves," he said, with a slight bow to her.

"Good morning, Mr. Worthington. Mr. Giles just left," she said. Then adding in a mildly accusatory tone, "After he had his breakfast; though I did keep yours warm, as I always do."

"Thank you," William said, quietly sighing to himself. He'd told Giles to tell Mrs. Greeves not to bother doing that for him, but obviously she still was, and resenting the fact.

"Shall I set a place for you, then?" she asked, stiffly.

Deeply disturbed by last evening’s session with Giles, compounded by being unable to sleep all night, William had just wanted to leave as soon as possible; waiting only until Giles had left first. Now facing Mrs. Greeves, he reluctantly decided his abrupt departure wasn't worth further aggravating her, "Thank you, that would be very kind of you," he said with a tight smile.

She nodded briefly, muttering to herself as she went back into the kitchen.

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

"Thank you for breakfast, Mrs. Greeves. It was very good," William said, as he wiped his mouth on his napkin, and moved his chair away from the table.

"You're welcome," she said curtly, starting to clear his place.

William picked up his coat from the chair he'd laid it on in the corner, and slipped into it. He then took something from its pocket. He cleared his throat. "Would you please give this to Mr. Giles when you see him at dinner?" he asked, handing her a note.

"You won't be back then?" she asked, looking suspiciously at both the note, and him.

"Um...no. I'm going to go exploring about town a bit today. Tell Mr. Giles I'll likely be back by this evening, then? Oh, and you needn't hold dinner or supper for me, Mrs. Greeves."

"Very well," she said, turning away.

Relieved, William picked up his backpack, and headed for the door.

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

Though his destination was more or less due north, William walked northeastward, following King George Street, until he came to Greenwich Park. He preferred the bit of serenity it afforded him, even if it was a less direct route. Loosely following King William Avenue, he neared the expanse of palatial buildings that made up the Old Royal Naval Colleges and Greenwich University, then cut back west, until he found Greenwich Church Street. Checking the small map and the notes he’d made, William walked north again until he came to NatWest Bank.

Often lost in his own musings as 'William,' he was sometimes still taken aback to see 'Spike,' when suddenly confronted with his own image. Thus was the case, when he saw himself reflected in the bank's window. Self-consciously, he took off his leather coat, folding it over his arm, and straightening out the gray pullover shirt he was wearing.

“I’m looking for Mr. Nelson,” he told the receptionist.

“Do you have an appointment?”

William nodded, and gave his name.

“Right this way, Mr. Worthington,” she said, leading him across the bank’s shiny, marbled floor until he was shown into an exterior office.

A few minutes later, a door opened and Mr. Nelson showed William inside.
He made small talk with William about his coming back to England for a few minutes, before getting down to business.

“I spoke to your solicitor, Lawrence McKennitt, in California yesterday; he arranged a transfer of around $15,000 in U.S. dollars for you, which amounts to close to £8,000 British Pounds.”

William swallowed trying not to show how uncomfortable he was with what would have been a small fortune back in his day. Not to mention, the hugely vaster amount he was actually worth; or the way he'd come by it.

Mr. Nelson studied William. He studied everyone - it came with the job, and he prided himself on his acumen. Money exerted not only economic effects on people, but psychological and emotional, as well. Using all three, he could usually read people with an exceptional degree of accuracy. He could tell old money from new, legal gains from illegal ones, and inherited from earned wealth; all in the many telltale signs a person presented with, if one only knew what to look for.

However, William Worthington was more than a bit intriguing. The young man's solicitor had given the impression that his money was quite old, inherited. Yet, the young man was almost reacting to it - or rather trying not to - as if it were illegal gains, and odder still over such a piddling amount.

Mr. Nelson cleared his throat. “Mr. McKennitt didn’t know how long you were going to be in England. He thought that you might need that much to get started with; if you decided to purchase or lease an auto while you were here, or if you intended to rent a flat."

When William still didn't respond, he continued. "However, if your stay is to be of a relatively short duration, then may I suggest you put a portion of your funds into a short term, but higher interest account?”

“I’m not sure right now,” William finally said, after Mr. Nelson had talked about the various funds for a while. “I think I just want to get the basic accounts set up today, if that’s alright.”

“Very well, Mr. Worthington,” he said, passing over to William the necessary paperwork to sign. “I’ll just go and draw up some temporary cheques for your use, and have you issued an ATM card, and you’ll be all set.”

“Thank you,” William said. He leaned back in the leather armchair to wait, recalling his conversation with Lawrence yesterday.

To Lawrence’s credit, he hadn’t acted very surprised to hear from William, or to learn that he was in England. Keeping to business, he asked him how long he planned to stay, found him a bank close by, and made all the arrangements. His only personal concession was to tell William he hoped he’d be returning soon, that Edna missed him. He’d also volunteered to call and check on Elizabeth. William gratefully assented, but asked Lawrence to keep his whereabouts confidential for now.

Mr. Nelson soon returned with the cheques and an ATM credit/debit card.

“I’m glad you were able to make it in today, rather than tomorrow, Mr. Worthington,” Mr. Nelson said.

William looked at him questioningly.

“The banks aren’t open in The States tomorrow,” he explained. “It’s their Thanksgiving’s Day.”

“Yes, it is,” William said softly, at once reminded of where he was a year ago.

Still unsettled after leaving the bank, William walked the few blocks to the electronics store Giles had told him about, where he could get a wireless card to adapt Elizabeth’s laptop, in order to get online from the house on Winforton.

He was in luck, as the person who had an appointment with the computer technician had to cancel, William was able to be helped right away.

“You’ll just be needing to be within a quarter of a mile’s receiving distance to a good signal in order to get onto the Internet,” the technician said, logging on to show him.

“Is there a list showing where the signals are best?”

“You staying here in Greenwich?” asked the multiple pierced and tattooed young man, with an accent, which spoke of East End.

“Yes, not far from here,” William answered.

“Shouldn’t be a problem then mate; they’re all over Greenwich. Only thing might be if you go further out. I’ve been told that signals are hard to come by in Black Heath, and along the southwest corner of the Greenwich Park. Otherwise, you’ll probably be able to pick up a signal from anywhere around here."

William thanked him, and left, heading over to Greenwich University. As he did, he couldn’t help but notice the beginnings of the holiday season in the storefront windows. Although much less of a to-do here than in The States, there were still telltale signs about; an Advent Calendar in a stationary shop window, a small ceramic Father Christmas, and a woman using a machine to blow fake snow into a storefront display window.

William hurried toward the campus, walking around the vast grounds for a long while. He asked a couple sitting on a bench where he could find the library. They had laughed, and asked, "Which one?" After asking him what his field of interest was, they directed him to Dreadnought.
As he approached the library from the south side, William slowed to a halt. Cocking his head to the side, he studied the light-colored building, pondering why it seemed so familiar to him. He continued toward the two-storied archway, stopping before the main doorway to read a plaque detailing its history from the 1760's through the1990's.
Starting as The Royal Naval Hospital Infirmary, it then became The Dreadnought Seamen's Hospital for merchant marines. Its next to last incarnation had been as a National Health Service specialty hospital. Then, after falling into an advanced state of disrepair, it was renovated, and converted to a library in the late 1990's by the University of Greenwich.
William at once realized why it seemed so familiar. When he was ten, his father had brought him here to visit a great uncle, who had lived there as one of the permanent patients for a number of years.
"I'm afraid that I haven't kept up my promise to your grandmother very well," his father said, as way of explanation.
"What promise was that, da?" William had asked.
"I promised her that I'd look in on her brother, Alfred, my uncle, from time-to-time. It's just I have so little time; even with you and your mum as it is, I'm afraid..." his father had replied, with a guilt laden sigh.
William had remembered his eyes growing huge as he was introduced to the, grizzled old man, without any legs. Alfred Worthington, however, was still quite sharp, and what's more, full of stories. William was soon mesmerized by the maritime tales his great-uncle told of his glory days with The Royal Navy.
"How did you lose your legs?" William had blurted out after a particularly rousing story of a fight the ship he'd been stationed on, had with pirate's ship.
"William!" his father had scolded, "mind your manners!"
"Ah...that's alright," Alfred had said, with an indulgent grin. He winked at the youngster. "However, young William, I think I shall save that particular, harrowing story for your next visit. What say you? Will you come back to visit your old uncle sometime?"
William had looked at his father, who had smiled, and nodded.
"Yes sir!" William said, happily.
All the way home, William had excitedly talked about his uncle and his tales; making his father promise to take him back to see his Uncle Alfred again.
However, for the next couple of years, his dad was away from home for longer periods of time than ever before and then he was dead. He never saw his great-uncle Albert again, nor learned how he'd lost legs.
The last thing William remembered hearing about his Uncle Alfred in the late 1860's was that the Royal Naval Hospital was closing, and that his uncle was being transferred to another facility in Scotland.
The interior of the building was reminiscent of a ship’s deck-like structure, with horizontal pierced beams supporting the main glass roofs. William asked a woman at the enquiry desk where the literature department was located.
"Take the lift or stairs up to the main library," she said, pointing him towards the colonnade where they were located.
William squinted in the bright light coming from all the windows, as he walked up from the stairs. A sunny, open space certainly wasn’t the sort of place he typically sought out when he thought of finding refuge in the familiar surroundings of books. Luckily, after finding the literature section, he walked through an archway, leading to the exterior areas. This part of the library - cooler, and darker, was much more to his liking.
He opened up one of the books he’d picked up, but his mind wouldn’t let allow him to concentrate on the words. Instead, he kept thinking back to the last few days.
After the first evening which he’d spoken to Giles about the night he’d been turned, their conversations had mostly been in general terms about demons, and of course, vampires. He knew that Giles had been waiting for him to ask specific questions about himself, about Spike. Yet, despite the fact he’d traveled across an ocean, leaving behind the person he most cherished in the world, he was terrified of finding out what the older man would tell him.

Finally, he’d mustering up his courage last night, and broached the subject he’d asked Giles about on his first day at the Council.

“I do have to preface this discussion by telling you that when you first came back to Sunnydale with your soul, I was still in London. Therefore, I can only go by what was told to me.”

“Please, just tell me what you do know. That’s all I ask; all I expect,” William said in a steady voice, belying the fact that Giles’ reluctance was feeding his own nervousness ten-fold.

“Tell me what The First wanted with me.”

Giles regarded William for a moment, finally nodding.

“Very well. It started after you’d come back from Africa; after getting your soul back. You were living in the basement of Sunnydale High School. From all accounts, from Buffy, as well as the others who saw you at that time, you were...” Giles paused to weigh his words carefully, but there were only so many words that would fit, “out of your mind.”

“Crazy, you mean?”

“For lack of a better adjective,” Giles said, apologetically. “Mentally, you were quite unstable; unhinged. Whether from the guilt weighing on your newly acquired soul, or being in such close proximity to the epicenter of The Hellmouth, it’s hard to say.”

“Why was I living in Sunnydale High’s basement? I thought I lived in a crypt,” William said, shuddering at the unimaginable and horrifying idea such a thing brought to mind.

Giles stopped, his brows knitted as he tried to recall something Buffy had told him from that time. Something about an explosion, perhaps? It was no use. At the time he'd returned to Sunnydale, his immediate concern was reining in Willow, and the dark powers she'd harnessed, not what had happened to Spike's crypt. The next time he'd returned his mind was then preoccupied with keeping the potential slayers safe from The First.

“I'm not sure,” Giles said, shaking his head. “Perhaps other vampires were squatting in your former...um, residence by then. If that were the case, I don’t think you were in any state of mind to fight for what was yours, as you normally would have.”

“But why there?” William asked, again.

"Likely,” Giles said in a clipped voice, “you just tried to find the nearest place to where Buffy was.” He’d tried to hide the contempt, which those memories of Spike served to bring up, the past being the past, after all. Unfortunately, he failed, before he could rein it in. William saw it, and looked down, shamed.

“Or you were drawn there by the concentrated evil; by The First manipulating you.”

“Why would I have been drawn to that? Didn’t my soul remove the desire to do evil?”

“I don’t know,” Giles said, shrugging. “You were still a vampire at that point, so I’m not sure that human standards can strictly be applied. Regardless, I’m afraid you and I could talk from here into eternity on the nature of what a soul does, and doesn’t do. My belief is that a soul doesn’t so much as remove the desire to do evil, as much as it lets one weigh good from evil, and allows us to feel empathy. That’s what I believe. If it were only a matter of removing the desire to do evil, or that a soul automatically guaranteed that every human being was a good person, it would be quite a different world, wouldn’t you say?”

William pondered this while Giles continued. “When Buffy became aware of your return, and your deteriorated state of mind, well, being who she is, as you’re well aware, she got you out of the school’s basement. I believe she enlisted Xander’s help, and he allowed you to live with him for a while.”

So that had been when he’d lived with Xander! He’d almost forgotten the story of them being roommates.

Giles proceeded to get up at this point, and pour them both a drink, as he organized how he was going to tell the next part of the story. He walked back to the sofa where William was sitting, and handed him the drink.

“Soon after, Buffy had an encounter with a vampire, who, before she killed him, told her that you’d sired him. A bit of research by the group confirmed many other people were turning up missing around that time, as well. All of them, people you killed, then sired.”

William paled. “I still killed...even with the soul?” he asked, a horror-stricken look on his face.

Giles nodded, “Yes. Apparently with The First manipulating you, and without the full benefit of the chip to stop you...”

“Chip?” William asked, wracking his brain. “You mean, soul? But I had the soul.”

“Um...no. A few years before that, the government’s special ops unit, called the Initiative, had captured you at one point...”

William let out a sigh, “Yeah, I remember now; Elizabeth told me about that. There’s just been so much,” William said his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m afraid I was too shocked to take it all in when I found out...”

“That’s alright. That’s why we’re talking now. We can take it as slow as you like, or we can stop for now if you’d prefer?”

William shook his head. “No, not yet. The government implanted a chip in my brain so I couldn’t kill humans. Only demons, right?”

“Yes, that’s correct. However, either the chip malfunctioned around the same time that The First had you kill and sire all those people, or it had a diminished effect.”

“But why?” William asked, his voiced pained, “Why me?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps The First saw you as...,” Giles hesitated for a moment, “... a weak link. With your soul weighing heavily on you, and your gratuitous association with The Slayer - with Buffy. I suppose all those reasons gave The First grounds to try to manipulate you. The First, itself, is non-corporeal. It has to have someone, or something, do its evil bidding for it."

“A weak link,” William repeated softly. “It wanted me to kill Elizabeth, so it could what? Take over the world?”

“Yes, but killing Buffy was only part of its grand plan. It knew that even if Buffy were killed, another Slayer would rise. It wanted to destroy the entire slayer line, which stood between it, and the rest of the world.”

“Then I can almost understand, if it had wanted me to hurt Elizabeth, since she was The Slayer, or even if it had set me loose on the potential slayers. What I don’t understand is why have me kill all those other, innocent people?”

Giles shook his head; “I don’t know. Maybe just because it could, or it had to make sure that the trigger worked.”

“Trigger?”

“Yes, like a post-hypnotic suggestion. I believe your trigger was a song - Early One Morning, that it used; you only had to hear it...”

“Early One Morning? That was a song my mother...” William stopped, looking wide-eyed at Giles.

“Yes, it was. Obviously, there was some sort of negative association with your mother...”

“NO! There wasn’t!” William yelled. “I loved my mother, and she loved me!” He scrambled to his feet, and staggered towards the door.

“What do you remember?” Giles asked, following William out into the hallway.

“Only that I loved my mum, and that she loved me. But I...I know what I did. Drusilla; she made sure she told me when she came to Julian. Made sure to...” William put his hands to his head, as the memories of her terrorizing him came flooding back, along with the sickening truths she’d spoken. William looked up at Giles suddenly; bile rising up in his throat, as it dawned on him just what he was suggesting.

“I didn’t mean to...Oh, God! The First used what I did...to my mum, to make me kill again, didn’t it?”

Giles nodded slowly, “Yes, I’m sorry William, that does appear to be how The First got you to do it’s bidding. For a while, you didn’t have any realization of what you were doing when under its control. To your credit, as soon as you did, you notified Buffy. While she was trying to figure out what was going on, she chained you up in order to try to protect any more innocents who you might try to harm, and that’s when The First kidnapped you.”

"Why?"

“I don’t know. Perhaps because it wasn’t happy that you'd partly broken its hold on you by yourself. The other reason being that it wanted your blood to open up the Seal of Danthazar, in order to release the Turok-han."

"The what?" William asked, more confused than ever.

Giles backtracked, explaining the seal's significance, what it's opening signified, and the Turok-han.

"The Turok-han was a vampire. Not one sired from a human, as you were, but a pure vampire: a killing machine. A vampire other vampires feared. Of course, it came after the potential slayers, and succeeded in killing one of them. In fact, it very nearly killed Buffy. Never in all my years as her Watcher, had I seen her so bloodied, so beaten, so..." he abruptly stopped, seeing William's ashen face. He quickly added, "However, like all other so-called, undefeatable monsters Buffy had come up against, she prevailed, and defeated it."

"Where was I?" he asked, barely able to get the words out. " Was I still...killing?"

Giles shook his head. "No. You weren't. The First had you for weeks, torturing you; trying to break you. Buffy came for you, as soon as she defeated the Ubervamp; she rescued you.”

William slipped down the wall he was leaning upon, as the full gravity of her words came back to him: “I'll always come for you”. Hugging his legs to himself, he wept, for himself, and for his brave girl - she who had been called upon to face the darkness, and the horror. Called upon to be The Slayer by outside forces, she wasn’t given a choice in her own destiny.

And yet by choice, she’d faced the darkness in order to save him.

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

NOVEMBER 26, 2009
WEDNESDAY

2:30PM

Giles sighed, as he looked at the empty desk across the room. When he'd gone home for lunch earlier, Mrs. Greeves had handed him a note from William. It had said that he wouldn't be accompanying him to the office this afternoon. Instead, it stated he wanted to spend the day exploring Greenwich on his own. Giles strongly suspected it had more to do with the events of the past couple of days.

As much as he'd tried to shield William from what was sure to be their curiosity, it hadn't taken long before William's presence was noticed by the slayers-in-training. Giles had been careful about bringing William back to the office with him in the afternoons, when most of the slayers were either still in classes, or out in the field, with their Watchers.

Their discovery of the ex-vampire in their midst, had come two days ago, when Giles had asked the younger man to take a box of files out to his car before they left for the day. As William was heading out the door, he'd run smack into a group of slayers returning from their outing. Having just recently completed a course on the most infamous vampires in history, there was a collective gasp from the girls.

"You! You're him!" said one of the slayers, coming to a dead stop.

Another slayer, sporting an odd-looking hat atop her head, stepped forward.
"No way! I was there! This can’t be him; Spike's dead! He died closing The Hellmouth. What the hell are you? Are you The First?"

William’s eyes grew large, as the girl who’d just spoken, drew a stake out of her jacket and advanced on him. He backed up, holding the box in front of him, in a death grip.

From his office, Giles heard the commotion, and quickly came running.

"Stop!" he'd yelled from the stairs. "Don't hurt him!”

All eyes turned towards Giles.

"It's The First, Giles, he’s posing as Spike," she said, looking back towards William.

"If it were The First, then what the bloody hell good would that stake do?" Giles asked sternly.

Vi looked down at her stake, then at William, then at Giles.

"Then this really is Spike?" Vi asked Giles, a look of trepidation on her face.

"Well, yes. I mean, he was Spike. He's human now, for God's sake," Giles said, coming over, and divesting her of the stake. "Can't you tell that much, you silly bint?"

She opened her mouth to protest, then shut it again. It was true; her slayer senses hadn’t been alerted to the presence of a vampire, as much as she’d reacted to the surprise of seeing Spike, right there in front of her.

"Spike?" Vi asked, looking at him in wonder. She may have been frightened of him when she'd been living in Sunnydale, but she knew he'd died a hero.

"Um...William," he corrected, with a small nod.

A squeal went up from Vi; “Oh my God! How? When?” she asked. Suddenly, the whole gaggle of slayers had surrounding him, some touching him, those from Sunnydale hugging him, all asking him questions at once.

"Enough!" Giles said, trying to pull them off of an astounded and embarrassed William.

"Girls, I'm afraid I haven't been very forthcoming about my guest."

"Duh!" said one of the slayers towards the back. Giles shot her a look.

"How about if we meet you in the training room in a few minutes, I just need to talk to William first," he said, with a nod towards the shell-shocked, former vampire.

"I'm sorry, William. I should've known I couldn't bring you here of all places, and keep your identity a secret for long," Giles said.

“I take it I knew some of them?” William asked, still stunned at the turn of event.

“Yes, a few of them.”

“What do you want to do?”

It was decided that for now, Giles would meet with them alone; explaining as best he could, as briefly as he could how Spike had come back, and excluding the most personal information about his relationship with Buffy.

William would walk the few blocks to the Trafalgar Tavern to wait for Giles.

The girls had been disappointed when only Giles appeared, but he impressed upon them, that William had only recently learned of his past, and that he was still getting adjusted to such a momentous, shattering discovery.

“Girls, I wanted to tell you that you are not to say anything to anybody what-so-ever, about seeing Spike here today. Not even, the other slayers who aren’t here right now. Is that quite clear?” he asked as the meeting drew to a close.

“Why?” asked one of the slayers.

Giles turned to regard her, staring at her until she finally looked away.

“Because,” he said slowly, “I’m asking you to both, obey me on this, and to protect and respect Spike’s...er, William’s privacy and identity. He deserves as much. Six and a half years ago, Spike died closing The Hellmouth, in order to save the world; and therefore saving all of you in the process. I think that’s more than enough reason, don’t you?” Giles asked looking around at each of them.

Solemnly, they all nodded their heads.

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

Then, last night...

Giles had felt helpless, as he looked down to where William sat, shoulders quivering with the silent tears.

Walking off, he came back a few minutes later, having filled William’s glass with a fresh drink.

“Guess I should be remiss if I didn’t include my role in a particular part of this story, as well,” he’d said, holding out the drink to William.

Wiping his eyes on his sleeve, William had looked up, questioningly, as he accepted the glass.

Giles then told him of his part in the conspiracy with Robin Wood to kill him, after trying to find the root of the trigger’s power, by using the Prokaryote stone he’d acquired.

“Elizabeth never told me that,” William said, softly. “Just a bit about Wood, and his mother.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“I don’t blame you,” he said, looking Giles in the eyes, “I was a vampire. Even with a soul, I’d still recently been killing. What with The First holding the trigger, that would seem like a big risk to Elizabeth, and the rest of ‘em. An unacceptable risk in any book.”

Inwardly, Giles winced. Ah, the sweet irony of the former vampire, finally agreeing with, what had been his most ardent belief at the time; not lost on him.

“If it’s any consolation to you, I was wrong. Quite wrong, as things turned out; if you hadn’t been there...”

William cut him off. “Someone else would’ve been the ‘hero of the piece.’ Wasn’t he the one meant to wear it? Wasn’t it given to him?” William asked, through gritted teeth. Though he didn’t say his name, Giles knew whom he meant.

William closed his eyes, trying to imagine him in his place with Elizabeth, him sharing what they’d had, him trying to kill them both. Unconsciously, his hands balled into fists.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Yes, Angel did bring the amulet to Sunnydale, and offer to be the bearer of it, but Buffy refused his offer. You were her...” Giles stopped, trying to find the words he’d never been able to give voice to before, without choking on them. “You were her hero, her partner. You were the one she... loved, and wanted by her side, not Angel. If she’d wanted him there, he would’ve been. Therefore, I can only surmise, that it was you who were meant to be the ‘hero of the piece,’ as you put it.”

William swallowed, tears starting to sting his eyes again.

“I think this would be a good place to stop for now, don’t you?” Giles asked gently.

William nodded, slowly standing up.

Giles took his glass from him, and started toward the kitchen to put them into the sink. William took his cue, and started up the stairs on unsteady legs.

“Oh, before I forget, when I refer to Spike as ‘you,’ I do hope you know that I do make a distinction between what you were, and what you are now,” Giles said.

William stopped, halfway up to the second floor, “And what is it that I am now, Giles?” he asked, his voice plaintive.

Giles stared at him for a moment. “I’d venture to say that you’re a good man.”

“I don’t know if that’s true,” William countered. “I don’t feel like one.”

“Well, I guess that’s what you’re here to determine. Goodnight, William,” he said, with a small nod.

“Goodnight, Giles.”


END CHAPTER 178

CHAPTER 179 – THANKSGIVING DAY

NOVEMBER 27, 2009
THURSDAY
8:00AM

"Another cuppa tea?" Mrs. Greeves asked.

"Yes, please," Giles replied gratefully.

He was having trouble getting started that morning. Although there hadn't been much interaction between them after William returned from his day in Greenwich, he'd been all too aware of him, having been awoken in the middle of the night by the incessant pacing going on in above him in the third floor bedroom. 'Should've taken that into consideration, when assigning guest bedrooms,’ Giles thought ruefully. Spike never could stand still for long. He also hadn't realized just how many squeaky floorboards the old place truly had.

Mrs. Greeves returned from the kitchen, setting down the cup in front of him. "Will Mr. Worthington be taking his breakfast early today, you suppose?"

Giles shook his head, "No, I don't imagine he will. Just keep it in the oven, in case he rises before dinner hour, please."

Mrs. Greeves huffed silently. "Of course, Mr. Giles," she said, through her tight, thin lips.

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

2:00PM

When William finally awoke, it was late in the afternoon. Groggily, he made his way down to the loo on the second floor. There, propped up on the counter, was a note with his name scrawled across it.

He opened it, and started reading.

William,

I was hoping you’d be awake by the time I arrived home, so I could extend this invitation to you from the girls.

Since today is Thanksgiving Day, and many of the girls are from The States, they wanted a little touch of home. Therefore, they’ve decided to do their own dinner, (Lord, help us) and have extended us both an invitation.

It would please them greatly, if you would attend.

Dinner will be at 3:00pm, at the Council house. If you don’t feel like walking, call me on the mobile, and I’ll pick you up.

Giles

P.S. I can reasonably assure you there will be no attacking Indians.

William read the last line over twice. Must be something to do with the first Thanksgiving Day, though he didn’t recall ever reading about the Indians attacking. He shrugged.

In any case, he didn’t see himself being very good company, nor did he want yet another reminder of where his life was now, compared to a year ago. Not that he could help it. As he went back up to his bedroom to dress, his mind kept replaying all the scenes from last year.

They'd awoken to an early season's snow, which had delighted both of them, but especially her.

"It's a time-honored ritual; the watching of the Thanksgiving Day parades,” Elizabeth had explained, snuggling up to him on the couch, after bringing their coffee and muffins into the living room, “marking the beginning of the holiday season."

Halfway through the show, she’d left to start preparations, but made him promise to let her know when the ‘big fellow’ was about to make his appearance.

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

"Santa's coming up," William said with a grin, as he stuck his head into the kitchen.

William chuckled seeing her delight toward the icon representing almost every child’s most cherished holiday icon. Santa made his way down the avenue, pulled by pretend reindeer, on a pretend sleigh, but that seemed perfectly normal to all the onlookers.

"Don't you dare make fun," Elizabeth warned, elbowing him in the ribs.

"Believe in Father Christmas, do you?"

"Definitely; especially since he brought my present early this year."

"He did now, did he?" William asked. "And what would that be?"

Her hand had come up, gently caressing his cheek. "You're here, aren't you?"

He nodded, swallowing the lump that had suddenly risen to his throat, "That I am, luv," he'd replied softly.

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

He smiled at the memory of how she’d fretted over having the big meal turn out just right. Even though it was only to be the two of them, and Clem.

"Today I bow to the tradition of men watching football or some other testosterone driven activity, while the women-folk, slave over a hot stove," she'd said, trying to shoo him out of the kitchen.

He’d quirked his eyebrow upward, truly puzzled by her words; their lack of tradition in this regard having suited them just fine, thus far.

"Who are you, and what did you do with my woman?"

"Very funny. I just...your woman, huh?” she’d asked, a charming little blush coloring her cheeks, as she tilted her chin up towards him, grinning. Then, she’d gone all serious again. “ I just want to do this today, okay, William? I'm not going to go all Martha Stewart on you or anything, so don't worry.”

"Martha who?"

"Stewart, she’s...oh never mind."

"I'd rather watch you, he'd said suggestively, coming up and putting his arms around her; be your slave,"

She'd relaxed into his arms for a moment, murmuring with pleasure as he planted kisses down her neck. Then she pulled away.

"Oh no you don't, I know that trick, and that can only lead to badness. Well, not badness, goodness really...you know what I mean. Now out!"

William had laughed, retreating to the other room. He'd tried to get interested in a football game, but flipping channels during a commercial, soon became enamored over ‘Miracle on 34th Street’.

"Bloody brilliant that is," he murmured to himself when it had ended, having thoroughly enjoying the more traditional, elderly Father Christmas look of Edmund Gwenn.

Eventually, he stumbled onto an actual English ‘footie’ match, and duly settled into his assigned role. Delicious aromas emanating from the kitchen kept him frequently glancing that way, and every so often, he’d sneak up to the doorway to take a peek.

The soccer team he favored, Manchester United, had just scored a particularly difficult goal, when he heard a crash, followed by a string of swear words he’d never heard from Elizabeth before. He'd hurried to the kitchen to find her staring at a broken mixing bowl, and half-mashed potatoes now on the floor.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" he asked, going over to her, looking her up and down to check for injuries.

She shook her head. "I just wanted everything to be perfect this time," she said, wiping at her eyes.

William looked at her, his heart swelling in his chest, "It is luv, it's all perfect. You're perfect."

"Plus, I broke the mixing bowl," she said, sniffing through a crooked smile.

William took her in his arms, and softly kissing her, "Who cares?"

"I care!" she said angrily, taking a step back.

"I didn't mean I don't care about the day, or all the hard work you've put in," he added, trying to salvage what was beginning to feel was something that he wasn't quite understanding.

" What I mean, is that I care about you; more than any of this. Is that wrong of me to feel that way, Elizabeth?"

She looked at him, and softened, "Of course not. I care about you more than any of this either. I just wanted..."

"I know," he said, pulling her to him.

After that, she agreed to let him help her, and things fell into the normal, comfortable routine they’d established all these months. William set the table, uncorked the wine, cleaned up as needed; oh, and he made the mashed potatoes.

Following dinner, they took the remaining two bottles of wine Clem had brought into the living room. Eschewing football watching, the three had talked, listened to music, and watched old movies instead.

The following day, he and Elizabeth had picked out their first Christmas tree; the first she ever had in the house, she’d admitted. He remembered how her eyes had shone with pleasure when they found the perfect one, and how excited she’d been to find decorations for it, to share the simple joys with him, to...
How very perfect and simple everything had all seemed to be to him then; in love, and feeling loved for the very first time, he’d believed he was in the midst of embarking on a life he’d only once dreamed of.

He closed his eyes for a moment, as a wave of pain and longing coursed through him.

Fervently, he hoped that Elizabeth would be spending today with Dawn and John, or Clem. He couldn’t stand to think of her spending it as he planned to, alone.

He went down to the kitchen, and reheated the day’s dinner. Halfway back to his room, plate in hand, he heard a knock on the door. Looking out the window at the end of the hall, he saw an unfamiliar car parked outside. William carefully set down the plate, and came down the stairs. He could hear voices, and bent over the railing to have a look. A group of slayers, including Vi, were peering in through the door’s small windows. He quickly flattened himself against the stairwell, hoping they hadn’t seen him. He stayed there a few more minutes, until the knocking finally ceased and he heard the car pull away.

Letting out a sigh of relief, he retrieved his plate and headed back to his room.

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

10:30AM
JULIAN

The hardest thing about going back to school the following week, was the shift in how her fellow teachers and assistants treated her. She could hear this unspoken optimism when anybody spoke to her, and knew it probably had to do with Mrs. Carpello having talked to William, and making the assumption that they were back together. When she still remained mum about her circumstances by the next day, Mrs. Carpello had finally asked how ‘they’ were doing.

Briefly, Buffy explained to her that William had only come over to talk, when he happened to find her ill. By the next afternoon, she could feel the shift in all their attitudes. It was all she could do to hold her head up, and not break down in the face of their quiet, supportive sympathy.

William had told her that he would get in touch with her within a week or two, but she couldn’t help but jump every time the phone rang, and she spent more than a little time logged onto the Internet hoping for word from him.

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

Buffy was holding the carafe in one hand, the other holding her mug under the flow of coffee, when the phone rang. Nearly dropping both, Buffy quickly ran into the bedroom to grab it.

“Hello,” she said rather breathlessly.

“Hey, Buffy, it’s me. I just wanted to wish you Happy Thanksgiving Day, before John and I left.”

“Oh, hey, Dawn,” Buffy said brightly, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. “Happy Thanksgiving’s Day to you, too. What time is your flight to Sacramento?”

“It’s at 1:00, so we’re just walking out the door. Actually, John wanted to leave about an hour ago, but I convinced him that would really be ridiculous.”

“Well, he does have a point, being that it’s the biggest travel weekend of the year.”

“I have confidence we’ll have plenty of time,” Dawn said, giving John a wink, as he walked by carrying the suitcases.

“So are John’s parents picking you up at the airport?”

“No, we’re going to rent a car this time. His dad isn’t feeling too well, and his mom will be busy with the cooking, so we figured that would be easiest all around.”

“Well, have a great trip.”

“We will, it’s just...I wish you would’ve come with; I hate to think of you being all alone.”

“I won’t be alone, I’m going to Clem’s later. He’s doing all the cooking, so I’ll be set! Afterwards, we’re going to watch old movies.”

“That sounds fun.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“I know,” Dawn said, sighing. She knew Buffy well enough to not buy all her light-hearted talk about having dinner with Clem and watching old movies. “I’ll call you when we get back on Sunday, okay? Maybe next weekend, we’ll come up there for a visit.

“That would be great. Go on now. Go make nice with the future in-laws.”

Dawn laughed.

“Bye, Dawn. Give my love to John.”

“I will. Bye, Buffy.”

“Bye,” Buffy said, clicking off. She was still standing there holding the phone, lost in her own thoughts, when it rang again.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Buffy,” intoned a familiar voice.

“Hey, Clem. I thought you’d be gone by now.”

“I’m leaving in a few minutes. What about you?”

“Oh, in about an hour or so,” Buffy fibbed. “I’ll probably get to my dad’s around noon.”

“Hey, there’s Snoopy!” Clem suddenly exclaimed, with a child’s glee.

“Snoopy? Huh?”

“In the parade! Don’t tell me you’re not watching the big Macy’s parade!”

The light bulb in her head went on, “Um...yeah. Sure I am! I’m just in the bedroom at the moment.”

“Good, because everyone has to watch the parades on Thanksgiving Day morning, to get into the holiday mood.”

“Yeah. That’s right, ” Buffy said, sighing softly.

His sensitive demon ears heard it anyway, and scrunched up his face, and silently chastised himself. “I’m sorry, Buffy,” Clem said, clearing his throat. “I sort of forgot...”

“It’s okay,” Buffy said, quickly cutting him off. She’d had all the sympathy she could muster for a while, and if Clem started in, she’d be reduced to a puddle before she knew it. So would he, for that matter, and she didn’t want to ruin his day as well. “Clem, look, I’ve got to go. I have to take a shower before I leave...”

“Sure, Buffy,” he said, hurriedly. “Well, tell everyone I say, Happy Thanksgiving Day, okay?”

“I’ll do that; take care.”

“You, too, Buffy. See you next week?”

“You betcha. Bye, Clem,” Buffy said, hanging up.

Looking at her address book in her phone, she pressed #6, and listened to the recording. “Hello, you have reached the voice mail of Hank Summers. Leave a message.”

“Hi, dad...its Buffy. I know Dawn said you were going to be out of town, but I just wanted to wish you a Happy Thanksgiving Day, so...Happy Thanksgiving Day. Bye,” she said hanging up.

Then, like she’d done so many other times, she called her voicemail and listened to an old message from William she’d saved, just to hear the sound of his voice.

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

11:00PM
GREENWICH

When he’d heard Giles return later in the evening, he’d forced himself to go downstairs to greet him. To his relief, Giles didn’t ask him either where he had been, or mention that the girls had come to the house to collect him.

“The girls sent me home with quite a substantial amount of leftovers,” his only statement regarding the day and the missed meal.

“Well, I think the turkey has finally gotten to me. Thank goodness it’s only once a year, even less here, or I daresay, we’d be all be walking around half-asleep,” Giles said, putting his hand over mouth to stifle a yawn. “Goodnight, William. I’ll be around tomorrow for dinner, if you wish to accompany me back to the office afterwards,” he’d offered, heading toward the stairs without waiting for an answer.

Back in his room, William sat at the table, laptop open in front of him, as he tried once again to compose a letter to Elizabeth. He’d promised both Elizabeth and Dawn he’d stay in contact.

He'd start with what he hoped, would be the easier of the two.

27 November 2009

Dear Dawn,

I hope this letter finds both you and John well. I also hope that you are spending today with your sister (or she with you, as the case may be). She needs you now more than she'll ever admit to. I know that much about her.

She told me that in the last five years, she'd hardly been in contact with any of her friends from Sunnydale, nor had she even once had you up to the house. I realize that she was going to college during that time, and you were finishing high school, and starting college. I also realize that Willow and Giles were in England, and Xander had moved to the other side of the country. Still, she cut herself off from everyone, and that couldn't have been good for her.

I hate to think that if I'd never come back, that she would still be out of contact with those of you she loves, and that love her. I can't bear to think that I could have had such an effect on her then, or that by my being gone now, I might cause her to start closing herself off again. Believe me, Dawn, that's the last thing I want!

I can hear your voice giving me a good dressing down; "Well, there's an easy answer to that, William..."

I won't insult you by using the 'C' word this time, either. You were right, it's not really any sort of answer. I owe you more than platitudes. I just don't have any answers right now.

Until then, for me, please take care of Elizabeth, and yourself.

Your friend always,

William


With a sigh, he rose, and walked over to the window. Opening it, he lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply, as he looked out at the lights twinkling off in the distance, toward the river. Cigarette finished, he put it out, and went back to the table.

For the next hour, he wrote to her. When he'd finished, he reread what he'd written. Sighing, he clicked on 'Select All,' hesitating a moment before hitting ‘Delete.'

The poet in him; the romantic man who loved deeply and truly, yearned to send her his heartfelt words. Beautiful words that were never meant for a computer screen, but for parchment, and written in the nicest calligraphy he could muster. He couldn't send them to her though, not in any form. To do so right now, would only serve to confuse her, he believed.

He started again, this time trying to keep his pain and longing out of his words.

27 November 2009

Dear Elizabeth,

...

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

4:00PM
JULIAN

Trying valiantly to forget that today, memories, rather than turkey were being served up, Buffy tried to find normal things to take her mind off other, not-so-normal things.

When cleaning a closet out had made her feel too claustrophobic, she’d shoved everything back in, and went for a walk in the woods. Unfortunately, seeing their ‘tree’ only worsened the pit of depression she was quickly falling into.

Next, she tried to do some training in the barn. That helped for a while, but now that place too, was filled with ghosts of what she considered the beginning of the end, of what her and William had shared.

Despairingly, she returned to the house.

“No!” she said, looking at the computer, having already checked it twice today - once this morning, then again before she left for her walk.

Sitting down on the couch, she stared at it for a long time. Finally, defeated she gave in to the urge.

“I’m just going to write to Willow,” she said aloud, as she logged on.

‘Sure you are,’ the little voice in her head mocked.

“Welcome,” chimed America Online. “You’ve got mail!”

“Yeah, I bet I do. Lemme guess - increase my penis size, get prescription drugs from Canada, send money to some dissident in....”

She stopped, as she saw the return address. It was from William! She quickly clicked on it, opening it up.

27 November 2009

Dear Elizabeth,

I hope this day finds you sharing it with those you love.

Know that if I could, I would be there with you.

I’ve been thinking a lot today about last year, and the wonderful meal you, ‘slaved’ over. I’m glad you finally let me help you. I would much rather mash potatoes in the kitchen with you, than watched football (even soccer) any day.

Believe me, if I could, I would turn back the hands of time, so we could always live in those most wonderful of times we shared. I will always cherish them, as I do you.

Always,

William

P.S. I forgot to mention - my current living arrangements are quite adequate for what I need at present. I have an upstairs bedroom complete with bed, table, bookcases, and lots of windows - no awful basement!

Also, so that you don’t worry - I’m not doing any demon fighting of any sort.

Buffy read the email, then reread it two more times. Initially, she'd been overjoyed to receive word, and happy that he'd mentioned wishing he could be with her. However, the more she read it, there was a subtext to his words that left her unsettled.

Her first reaction was to fire off an immediate reply, but she thought better of it. This wasn't a letter that asked for anything back; this much she knew.

She needed to get some perspective from someone on it. Picking up the phone, she clicked on 'tools,' and checked her international clock. Damn, it was probably a pretty dicey time to call. Still, not totally unheard of, right?

"Hello?"

"Willow? I didn't wake you, did I?"

"Buffy? Hey, how you doin? Is anything wrong? Any word from William?" came the rapid-fire questions.

"So-so, not really, and yeah, that's why I called, in answer to your questions," she said, with a laugh. "You know me so well, don't you?"

"Darn tootin! So, when did you hear from him?"

"Tonight. He emailed. He sounds okay, so I'm not even sure why I'm calling you, it's just...it's not so much what he said, but what he didn't say; how he said what he didn't say."

"What did he say, or rather not say?"

"Well, he said...um...what if I just read it to you?"

"Okay, or if you're still logged on, you could forward it, and I'll have a look."

"That sounds good. That way you'll be better able to hear his voice when you're reading it, right?"

Willow laughed, "Something like that."

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

Buffy forwarded the email, and waited a few minutes while Willow got online, and read it for herself.

"You there, Buffy?"

"I'm here, did you read it?"

"Yeah, I did."

"And?"

"I don't know. He didn't really say very much, did he?"

"No, he didn't. And what he did say, just seemed..."

"Stilted?"

"Like he's trying not to say anything by saying a bunch of...nothing."

"Yep, that's sort of the sense I get, too. That and that he..."

"He what? Sounds like he's saying good-bye?"

"I didn't say that, Buffy. I don't think he's...I don't know. I mean he says he'd be with you if he could, but at the end he talks about wishing he could turn back the clock and that he'll cherish you always. It just sounds..."

"Like he doesn't expect to come back?" Buffy asked, softly.

"No, Buffy. I don't think...I think it's more like he's being very cautious with his words. Very, very cautious."

Willow heard Buffy sniffle, and her heart ached for her friend.

"Let me ask you this. When he was there with you, before he left, did he act like he sounds in the email?"

Buffy thought about it for a moment. "No, Willow, he didn't. In fact, we were closer than we'd been since he left. We slept together; I don't mean in that way, I mean I was sick, but just in the nice, comfy way. When he told me he was planning on going, William made sure to try to assure me it was for both our sakes, and said that he..." Buffy hesitated.

"Loved you? Aww!"

Buffy thought about if for a few moments, wracking her brain to remember the words.

"No. Actually, he didn't say that to me, I mean with everything else he was saying and doing, I took all his words to mean that, of course."

"Of course," Willow echoed.

"But he hasn't said it. I don't think he's said those words to me since he's left, Buffy said, with a small laugh. “Ironic, isn't it, Willow? Years ago, I'd cringe whenever Spike would tell me that he loved me; as if coming out of his mouth, those words were something dirty and disgusting. Now, I would give anything, to hear him say those three little words again.”

"Oh Buffy, he still loves you. You have to know that!"

"Does he? I don't know. It sounds like he's trying not to, or at the very least, keep me at arms length."

"Sounds like...a little. Maybe," Willow said, hedging. "Not that it means he doesn't love you. Maybe he just doesn't want you to have any..." Willow stopped, realizing where she was leading.

"Hope?" Buffy finished for her, her voice flat. "He doesn't want me to have any hope, because he doesn't believe he deserves to have any. God, Willow..."

"We don’t know that, Buffy! We’re just conjecturing here, right? No need to be in all worry-girl mode, yet, right? Really, he didn’t even say that much."

But what he’d not said spoke loud and clear to her.

“Buffy?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“So, how was Thanksgiving Day...?”

Buffy chatted with Willow for another ten minutes. She found out that Willow’s parents had been there until this morning, laughed at the folly of their restaurant fiasco in Bristol, and enjoyed hearing about their trip to Stonehenge, and other general news. She asked about Giles, but Willow said she hadn’t seen him for over four months, but that Kennedy was due to go into the Council in the next couple of weeks, and that maybe she’d go along. Willow had talked to Xander earlier in the day, and said he and his family were doing fine; spending the holidays at home, with some of Angela’s cousins coming by later.

The phone call ended on an upbeat note, Buffy being glad she called if only to hear Willow’s voice and to hear all that was happening in her world. No matter what happened with William, she didn’t want to go back to having no contact with her friends, again.

Willow suggested waiting a few days to respond to the email, and Buffy had agreed it might be a good idea to give her more time to respond. However, after tossing and turning until three in the morning, she felt she had as good a response as she was likely to have in another couple of days. Not only that, until she got it down, she was doubted she’d find that elusive sleep.

She made herself a cup of tea, and turned on the computer.

November 28, 2009
Friday
3:00am

Dear William,

I’ve been thinking about last year all day, too. Not just the day, but all the days.

You said that you were glad I let you help me in the kitchen last year. How do you think it makes me feel now to know that, over something infinitely more important than a meal, you won’t let me help you?

We can’t turn back the hands of time, William.

I know that now.

We can’t freeze time, or go back to when we were innocents. When I was first called to be the slayer, all I wanted was to be able to go back and be the girl I once was; someone free to do what she wanted, grow up to be whoever she dreamed of becoming. Now I see if that had happened, although I might have been living an ordinary life in ignorant bliss, a lot of people would've died, if I hadn’t been there at that particular time and place to save them. You can say the same thing, and on an even grander scale!

Of course, I regret the bad things that happened; the losses, and pain that being the slayer, unavoidably brought into my life and to those around me. But I can’t regret the unexpected good and love I experienced, or the moments of wonder and transcendence that came along with my calling, too.

More importantly, I wouldn’t have had met the people who are most important to me in this world - Dawn, Willow, Xander, Giles, and you - most of all, you!

I can’t deny who I was then; it’s still a part of who I am now. Even if I’m not active, or the only one anymore, I’m still a slayer. For five years I tried to forget that part of my life by becoming something else. (Let’s forget the fact, that I was living in the house willed to me by my deceased, vampire lover. How’s that for being denial-girl?) Then when you miraculously came back, and didn’t remember who you’d been, I was all too happy to still deny what I was. Now we’re both living with the consequences of that decision.

And because of this, I’m trying hard to be understanding of your need to work out whatever it is that you feel you can only work out alone, but I think I’m failing.

All I know is that I miss you and love you, and want you here - with me.

I believe in you, William. Please don't give up on us.

Write back soon.

Love,

Elizabeth

P.S. I’m glad your living arrangements are much better than an awful basement, and am definitely glad that you’re not fighting demons anymore. There are enough slayers in the world now to do that.

END CHAPTER 179

CHAPTER 180 - NIGHTMARES, REDUX

DECEMBER 12, 2009
FRIDAY
2:00PM

Giles put down the file he'd been looking at, and picked up the remote. Clicking on the screen, he flipped through the channels, all linked to the lower levels of the Council, until he came to the third floor. He zoomed in to watch William fencing with one of the latest arrivals of slayers, this one from Amsterdam.

Giles recognized from the beginning of his stay that William wasn't only in search of answers to reconcile his past, but to find some meaning in this life. He also realized that had William’s quest only been about love, he could’ve easily stayed with Buffy. However, it went much deeper than that, because of who he was, and more importantly, who he’d been. As if she were his own daughter, he hurt for Buffy knowing how she must be suffering. Yet, he also found himself respecting William for trying to do what was right for both their sakes. He also knew that eventually, Buffy would find out his hand in what she would likely perceive as another betrayal by him, and that there was a good chance that any fragile trust he’d hoped to build with her again would be gone for good.

After his eyes had been opened to that, and seeing William desperately in need of guidance and some way to feel useful, he asked for his assistance in training the slayers. At first, William was loath to have much contact with the slayers at all, considering what he now knew of his, rather Spike’s, history in regards to them. However, Giles was able to appeal to his vanity.

“You ever fence?” he’d asked William, already knowing the answer.

“I took it in secondary school, then again at Oxford. More recently, Elizabeth and I took a class last summer.”

“That’s something we seem to be woefully lacking; someone who can teach the girls fencing. Don’t suppose you’d be interested, would you?”

“Me? You want me to teach them fencing? I don’t know, Giles,” William said, shaking his head.

Giles had let out a resigned sigh, “A pity,” he’s said, venturing a look out of the corner of his eye at William.

“But you fence, don’t you? Why can’t you...?”

“I do, um...rather I did. I’m afraid I have a trick knee, which prevents me from overexerting it. I suppose I could just hire someone outside The Council, or send the girls to a fencing academy, but it would’ve been nice if they could’ve be taught by someone who doesn’t just know proper form, but who also knows how to wield a sword when fighting demons.”

A few days later, William had brought up the offer to Giles himself, consenting to work with the slayers.

“One thing, Giles,” he said, fidgeting, apparently uncomfortable, “I’ve seen how they look at me, like I’m some...I don’t know, rock star; some sort of...”

“Hero?”

William acknowledged this, with a slight nod of his head.

“I’m not a bloody hero; I don’t want them...”

“I’ll talk to them, William,” Giles assured, and he had. He’d let the girls know that any undue response to William as though he were Spike, or as some object of hero worship would only serve to make William less likely to work with them.

“But he is a hero, Mr. Giles,” Vi had said, adamantly, and the other slayers nodded their agreement.

“That may very well be, but William doesn’t see it that way. I believe he sees it as Spike may have done this magnanimously, selfless thing, but that he was also a murderer for over one hundred years; and of your kind as well. You’d best not forget that. “

“But he didn’t have a soul then,” another slayer piped up.

And there it was again, that four-letter word - soul.

“I understand that, but that isn’t the issue. The issue is how William feels about it now, right?”

“So how do you want us to treat him?”

“Just like any other person. I think that should do for a start, don’t you?”


Now as Giles watched William and the slayer on the monitor, he couldn’t help feeling just a bit pleased with himself about how he’d gone about getting him to consent to work with the slayers. Not only that, but as good as William was with deciphering demon code - almost as good as Willow had been - it was a bookish pursuit. Being like-minded himself, he didn’t disparage such things. On the contrary, he understood them perfectly. Still, he understood that physically working out his frustrations, was also a worthwhile thing for William to be doing at this juncture.

It hadn’t taken long before he’d also begun to spar with the girls. Giles realized that watching William was almost like watching Spike. His grace as he circled the girls, easily dodging their blows, was a thing to behold. Even though William didn’t have Spike’s supernatural strength anymore, he still had that uncanny agility that had made him a vampire to be reckoned with.

Soon, a discernible pattern began to take shape. After they would talk about the past, Spike’s past, William would withdraw for a couple of days, staying away from The Council and the slayers. Then when William had processed whatever it was, he would turn up at dinner one afternoon, accompanying Giles back to work as though nothing had been amiss.

He also knew that William had heard from Buffy by email at least once; probably more, as he’d asked him about that a while back. That had also seemed to deeply affect him, and Giles suspected William was strongly fighting the urge to return to her, but was frightened. Of what, he wasn’t sure; it was just a feeling he had.

Finally, a few days ago, William had confessed to him about the nightmares he’d been having, starting before he’d found out he was a vampire, and increasing in horrifying vividness and terror after the incident that had brought it all to the fore.

“As you know, I first left a few weeks after it happened; when I found out everything. I couldn’t stand to be around Elizabeth, knowing what I’d been, what I’d done to countless, innocent people. I was afraid to accept her solace, afraid to need, and frankly, also upset to find she’d ever entered into relationships with vampires in the first place. I judged her, Giles. Me, of all people.” he said, sadly shaking his head.

The irony was not lost on Giles. He, who, time after time had warned Buffy about entering into relationships with both Angel, then later Spike. Of course, with Spike, she’d already become deeply involved before he’d ever known. With Angel, well, that had been another lifetime ago, so it seemed.

“I thought I was doing the right thing, but now I see I was just running scared. I didn’t want to leave her. God, I didn’t want to leave her,” he’d repeated, putting his head into his hands.

“Later, Elizabeth found me in Los Angeles. You probably know what a bloody mess I was,” William said, looking up at Giles.

“Um...yes. Buffy called me afterwards. She was quite concerned.”

William stared at the carpet, shamed far beyond what Giles most likely had been told.

William continued in an almost inaudible voice, “Then, this last time, when I found Elizabeth so ill, I really wanted to stay. Despite the circumstances, things between us were...good, really good. It felt like we were almost back to normal,” he’d said, smiling briefly at what must have been a good memory for him. The smile had quickly faded. “Then they started again... the nightmares.”

"How long have you been having them?" Giles asked.

"Ever since I came back, I guess," William answered. "At first; in the nightmares, I would be me, but I would also be watching myself, like one sometimes does in dreams. Only that me - the one I was watching - would turn into him, into Spike. I'd see him or Drusilla, or other vampires, killing; and in almost all of them, Elizabeth would die. If it were by another's hand, then I would be impotent to stop it. Otherwise, it was me - him -- who was doing the killing. I'd wake up terrified. I couldn't understand how I could love someone so much, yet dream I was this...this thing that would kill...like that," he said, shuddering.

"Did Buffy know about the nightmares?"

William nodded, "She knew. She couldn't help but know. I'd come out of them by her shaking me awake sometimes; comforting me. She didn't know all the ones I had, and I never volunteered the specifics. Though once, a few weeks after we returned to Julian...guess it was right after I’d met Edna again...I had one of the worst nightmares I’d had up to that point. That time I told her that I’d dreamed I’d hurt her, and asked her if Spike had actually ever hurt her before."

"And what was her response?" Giles asked.

"She told me that Spike wouldn’t hurt her, and neither would I. That's not quite the truth though, is it?" he asked, his voice harsh.

Giles took a deep breath, as he collected his thoughts. No way was he going to tread those murky waters

“Although I was Buffy’s Watcher for a number of years, I’ve come to realize that there was a bond, a level of intimacy between you, and I'm not speaking of only in the physical sense, that started even before you got your soul. I shan’t attempt to speak to that which went on between you that I was not privy to,” Giles said, therefore, deftly evading the worst; most of which he’d only heard second hand.

“If there is something that warrants such discussion, then those matters are strictly for you and Buffy to come to terms with,” Giles said firmly.

William looked into Giles eyes for a moment, then slowly nodded. “Fair enough.”

"What I will speak to is this: for all of Spike's braggadocio about killing the next slayer on his list, that being Buffy; in all honesty, you...I mean he... never got very far. That's not to say that you never hurt her, or intended to. In my viewpoint, even when chipped, you did plenty to put Buffy in harms way. You allied yourself with those who would try to take her down when you were no longer able to, and more than once you tried to drive a wedge between her and her friends. On the other hand, by either true lack of willingness, or your poor planning, you never quite seemed able to go through it. On more than one occasion, at the last minute, you'd fling yourself into the fray, siding with Buffy against those that might have done her in for good.”

“In retrospect, the first time I ever considered that Spike really might not be in it all for purely self-serving reasons was when you...er, he, nearly let himself be killed. Rather than reveal to Glory that Dawn was The Key; Spike let himself be tortured, even when there was no apparent gain to be had.”

"Spike loved Dawn," William said simply.

"Yes, I do believe that you did, even as Spike, but by all intents, you shouldn't have."

"Because I was a vampire? Or because I didn't have a soul?"

“Well, that my dear boy,” Giles said, taking off his glasses, and placing them on the desk, “is your million dollar question, isn’t it?”

William slowly nodded his head.

"Getting back to your nightmares; it would appear to me that your subconscious is trying to suppress memories it still must carry from when you were a vampire. As much as I'm loath to say it, that the content of those nightmares includes killing Buffy is quite understandable."

William shot him a surprised look.

"What I mean," Giles explained, "is that trying to kill each other is the usual nature of relations between vampire and slayer."

William rose from the chair, and nervously paced the parlor, stopping in front of the fireplace. “See, the thing is, I would tend to agree with you, if they’d stayed the same, but they changed,” William said, absentmindedly watching the flames dance over the logs.

“How?” Giles asked.

“Before Drusilla, before I found out what I’d been, I would be as horrified in my nightmares, as I would be when I’d awaken from them.”

“And now?”

“And now, in them I feel the hate, the desire to do evil, be evil; overwhelming, unquenchable, and undeniable. I feel the thrill of the kill. Now in my nightmares I’m not horrified. Quite the contrary; I revel in the power; in the bloodlust, in the killing...in killing her,” William said, in a voice filled with anguish.

Giles felt his blood run cold. The little veins in his temples throbbed silently in anger, fueled more by his former disgust and loathing of Spike, than in William's confessional.

“Still,” Giles said quickly, his calm voice reigning in his errant emotions before they became evident; “you’ve only felt this way in your nightmares, correct? The urge to do Buffy, or anyone else any harm while awake hasn't changed has it?”

“No, of course not! Most definitely not!” William denied vehemently, as he turned around to face Giles. Hesitantly, and with great sorrow in his voice, he added, “But, I can’t really be sure what it means now, can I? That’s why I couldn’t possibly stay. I didn’t know; still don’t know, if Elizabeth will be safe with me around in the future.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Good-night, William. Try not to worry too much,” Giles called, watching as William silently made his way up the stairs. He’d tried to assure him that nothing pointed to his nightmares being anything other than just that. However, he himself was still bothered.

Giles made his way back into the study, pouring himself a stiff drink before settling down behind his desk. Withdrawing a key chain from his inner jacket pocket, he carefully unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk. Lifting off the false bottom, he pulled out the folder he had started keeping on William before he arrived. He felt a pang of guilt every time he saw it as he remembered Buffy’s words to him, before she’d told him about William.

"This is my life Giles, mine and William's. It's private, shared only with a few close people. It's not to be dissected, speculated upon, written about, or otherwise discussed with anyone, understood? Promise me Giles, no matter what!”

He tried to comfort himself that he hadn’t totally gone back on his word to Buffy; the folder he had started keeping on William, was for his eyes alone, not the Council’s in general. However, in order for him to think rationally about this turn of events, it was necessary to have a place to start. That place was usually with the written word of recorded events; and that meant him doing the recording.

He flipped back at the scattered notes he’d taken right after Buffy called him to tell him that they’d been attacked. At that point, he’d also tried to reconstruct the things he could recall her telling him the previous spring from memory.

‘On their cross-country drive back to California, Buffy said that whilst at the Grand Canyon, William had what could only be called a most dramatic episode of memory fusion/confusion. Buffy stated that William reacted as though he were once again Spike; reliving the last battle which took place five years previous on Sunnydale’s Hellmouth. The episode left him temporarily catatonic. Afterwards, when he came to, he didn’t recall anything of it.

As for nightmares, William seems to have had them when they first returned to Julian. Though, by last March, Buffy stated they appeared to have ceased altogether. It was her contention, at that point, to not tell William about his past at all, despite my advising her to the contrary.

Note: William’s nightmares have appeared to be the only evidence that he still carries actual memories of his years as Spike; otherwise, his only memories were of his human years from approximately 1852 -1880, and those since he came back.’

“Came back, came back,” Giles mumbled to himself, as he looked for the copy of the Shanshu Prophecy he had gotten from Willow. He quickly read through it, stopping when he got to the end. There it was the mention of the prophecy’s two-year condition, seemingly simple, yet maddeningly vague.

Giles tapped his fingers along the edge of his desk as he stared at the words. There just had to be something he was missing. Unfortunately, he couldn’t very well call Willow for any clarification she might lend to the situation, without alerting her, and hence, Buffy, to the fact that he had been in contact with William, to say the least.

Giles glanced at the mantle’s clock, then took out his cell phone. He punched in the prefix for the States, then the rest of the number to the one person who might be able to help.

END CHAPTER 180

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