CHAPTER 181 - PAST AND PRESENT

DECEMBER 13, 2009
SATURDAY
3:00PM
LOS ANGELES

When she first moved to Julian, it wasn't that hard to avoid the holidays. She wasn’t that close to her fellow students at the university, so if asked what her plans were, she’d just give some vague answer about family back east which would seem to satisfy the person asking.

After she started working at Montessori she had to learn to compartmentalize her feelings about being alone at the holidays. At school, she’d enjoy them, but only for her student’s sakes. As for her co-workers, she’d learned the hard way not to tell anyone that she didn’t have plans, as suddenly their curiosity and sympathy wound up generating invitations to their family gatherings she didn’t want to accept. Buffy quickly found that it was much easier to pretend to be excited over plans of her own than to appear ungrateful or eccentric.

However, on the home front, she painstakingly avoided every-and-any thing that served as depressing reminders of all she’d lost. She allowed for no decorations, television, special foods, or seasonal music. Gratefully, even cheerful, optimistic Clem had always accepted her non-celebrating of the holidays, and never pushed her on the matter. For that reason, her one concession would be to accept his invitation a few days before Christmas each of those years, to share in a small holiday meal with him, which he would cook for her at his cabin.

Then last year, for the first time in so many, she'd been excited about the holidays - from getting a Christmas tree to baking, and everything in between. Mostly though, she’d felt filled with a sense of love, joy, and contentment she hadn’t even dared believe was still possible anymore.

In painful contrast, it now seemed every ornament, every damned Christmas song, commercial, and every decoration on every damned street corner seemed only there to mock her.

Therefore, it was by sheer force of will that Buffy agreed to accompany Dawn shopping. Dawn had originally suggested the mall in San Diego that they'd all gone to last year, but Buffy quickly nixed that idea. The last thing she needed was yet another painful reminder of William's absence from her life. Instead, she agreed to come up to Los Angeles to go shopping at a mall close to where Dawn and John lived.

After giving them a head start, John had agreed to meet them toward the end of the day at the food court. They were just finishing their coffees, when Buffy excused herself to use the washroom.

"How is she?" John asked, as he watched Buffy walk away.

"Holding up. You know Buffy, she's trying to be cheerful for my sake, but I can tell she’s miserable. I forgot to tell you that I talked to Clem a few days ago. Buffy wasn't with him on Thanksgiving Day; he was in San Diego with his cousin.”

"And she told him she was going to be with us," John finished for her. "Why would she...?"

"Because she didn't want to let either me or Clem know that she was planning on being alone."

John didn't say anything for a few moments as they drank their coffee.

"Has she heard anything else from William?"

Dawn shook her head, "No, not since his email a couple of weeks ago. She didn’t seem to want to talk about him today, so I didn’t press her, but I don't know what she's going to do if he doesn't even come home for Christmas or doesn't contact her soon."

“I think he will. Let’s try to think positive,” John said, but wasn’t very convincing.

"If not I will so be kicking his ass," Dawn mumbled.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy had just walked out of the restroom, and was heading back to the table, when she heard her name.

"Hey, John, I was just...Riley?" she said, shocked.

"Buffy! It is you! I wasn't sure. My God!"

"Riley? Is it really you? Oh my God," she said, giving him quick, warm hug.

"In the flesh."

"When? How? What are you doing here?" she asked, looking around. "Where's Sam?"

Riley looked down at his feet for a moment.

“Oh no! What happened? She’s not...”

“No, nothing like that; she’s alive. We split up is all; um... I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know you didn’t. I’m so sorry, Riley. When did it happen?”

“About a year and a half ago. Our divorce was final about six months ago.”

“Oh,” Buffy said. An uncomfortable silence fell over them.

Finally, Riley cleared his throat. “What about you, Buffy? Are you married?” he asked, taking a surreptitious glance at her ring finger.

Unconsciously, she covered her left hand with her right, as if she could hide the fact that her finger bore no ring. The one it had borne, she’d given back to William. Then again, why should she? She released her hand, straightened her back as she faced Riley.

“I’m sorry Buffy, that was rude of me,” Riley apologized, seeing her uncomfortable gesture.

“It’s alright. Come on, there’s somebody here I think will want to see you,” she said, taking Riley’s hand and dragging him to the table.

“Buffy, who...? Riley? Riley!” Dawn squealed, practically knocking over her chair as she got up to hug him.

“This can’t be Dawn!” Riley said, gracefully accepting her hug. “The Dawn I knew was still a girl,” he teased.

“Yeah, well the guy I knew...what are you doing here?” Dawn asked, to the point as always.

“Dawn, let him sit down, will you? Um...that is if you want to, Riley.”

“Sure, I’d love to,” he said in his affable, grinning way. He grabbed a chair from the table behind him, and pulled over to theirs, straddling it as he sat down.

Introductions were made between him and John; then Riley filled them in on the last few years. After some general chitchat, he told them that the last time they’d seen them he and Sam had a stint in Tibet, then returned to South America, followed by their last assignment together three years ago in the Congo. He gave a brief statement regarding his and Sam’s break-up and divorce.

“After we returned stateside, we both took jobs in Washington, D.C. Seems that we overestimated how much we had in common. I mean, maybe in the field the life and death fights we faced just made it seem...” he cleared his throat, embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” Dawn said.

“That’s alright. We had problems before, it was just in the field there wasn’t any time to deal with them. Sam remarried a couple of months ago; a senator from Nebraska.”

“Is that when you moved back to California?” Dawn asked.

“Just temporarily. I went back into the field and they stationed me in L.A.; lots of demon activity around here still.”

They sat talking in the food court for another hour, with Riley asking lots of questions about Dawn and her college courses, what John did for a living, and about their old friends from Sunnydale.

By tacit agreement, Dawn and Buffy didn’t say anything about either Spike or William, although John had nearly let it slip when Riley had mentioned taking in some sightseeing this time that he’d never done before.

“...I was thinking about going to San Juan Capistrano sometime. Have any of you ever been there?”

“Yeah, Dawn and I spent a weekend there last spring with Buffy and Will...” John had gotten only this far, when he received a kick underneath the table.

“Willow? How is she?” Riley asked, seemingly missing the preceding kick, glare, and widened eyes among the other three.

“Um...she’s fine; she was here for a visit,” Buffy had fibbed, then went on to talk about the mission.

They left the mall together, John and Dawn heading toward their car, and Riley insisting on walking Buffy to hers. Dawn used the universal signal for ‘Call me!’ Buffy discreetly nodded.

Riley hadn’t really asked about her much while they had all been together. Her luck ran out on the way to her car.

“And what of you, Buffy? I hear that you’re not the only slayer anymore. That must have given you an opportunity to have a chance at living a normal life.”

She looked at him surprised, though she shouldn’t have been. After all, Riley was still involved with the part of government ops, which had tracked demons for who knew how long.

“Wait, don’t answer that right now. I know that I’ve just put you on the spot; I just didn’t want to have this...see, you still tie my tongue in knots,” he said with a good old, Iowa boy smile.

Buffy smiled back. “That’s okay.”

“What I mean to say is that I’d really like to hear all about your life now, and I thought maybe I could take you to dinner sometime?” he said, hopefully.

“I don’t know...”

“Just dinner, Buffy; that’s all I want.”

She studied him for a moment. A part of her felt it was a huge mistake to agree to it, yet another part of her asked herself why she shouldn’t. After all, he was just a friend, right? And it wasn’t like there was someone at home waiting for her, or who would even know if she went out with the whole Seventh Fleet, for that matter, she thought with a touch of bitterness.

She looked up at Riley and smiled sweetly. “Sure, I’d love to,” she heard her self say.

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

DECEMBER 13, 2009
SATURDAY
1:00AM
GREENWICH

Three hundred and sixty-five times one hundred and twenty.
Three hundred and sixty-five times one hundred and twenty.
Bring the zero down.
Two times five equal ten.
Carry the one...

Beyond weary from the aftermath of tonight's talk with Giles, William took off his reading glasses, placing them on the nightstand. At his feet lay the folder Giles had let him borrow containing a vast array of information about Spike, since the late 1800’s. Whether totally accurate or not, they were original files which Giles had, as he put it, 'permanently borrowed,' from the Council, when Spike had first become a presence in Sunnydale.

On the way up to massaging his pounding temples, he stayed his hands, a quizzical look on his face as he studied them. Though not large by any means, his fingers were adequately long, the overall structure tending a bit towards the delicate. As a boy, his mother had praised them as such saying God had given him the sort of hands meant to create something beautiful with.

His mouth drew up in a slight smile remembering that in the past year, Elizabeth had seemed to be quite taken with, both their form and function. William felt himself growing hard, as he recalled the exquisite feel of her soft skin and body, beneath them. Flexing his fingers ever so slightly, he watched them with a contemplative fascination, before closing his eyes, letting his fingers draw imaginary patterns on imagined warm breasts.

The reverie abruptly ended, and he shook his head in dismay. Opening his eyes he studied his hands once more. A brittle laugh echoed in the quiet of his room as he thought of the irony. He doubted if any of Spike’s many victims contained in these pages had ever thought given thought to his hands being delicate right before he’d killed them.

Even before arriving, tonight had been the moment in time he’d dreaded the most; confronting the bitter truth about his existence after being turned into a vampire. The fact, that he'd been compelled to fly across an ocean in order to do so did little to placate his fears.

Just as hard, perhaps even more so, was the knowledge that he -- Spike -- had been with Drusilla for most of that time. It had been both their exploits that were chronicled along with Angel and Darla’s, while they all lived together.

Given this, he’d prevailed upon Giles to just allow him to read the folder sans conversation.

"Talking about it won't make me feel any better, you know," William had argued, as he’d stood in the parlor, hands stubbornly folded against his chest.

"Perhaps not. Still, I'll feel better for your doing it this way," Giles had countered. “However, you’re certainly past the age of majority, so if you insist on doing it that way, I won’t attempt to stop you; though I do advise against it.”

The two men studied each other for a moment. Despite his fear, William saw only understanding in Giles' eyes, and had relented. Taking a deep breath, he gave a small nod, and walked over to the couch. Once seated, Giles had then brought him the folder and a drink. He’d then retreated a respectable distance, waiting for William to initiate the discussion.

Taking a long draught of liquid courage, William had opened up the folder and started reading the very long timeline of William the Bloody’s murderous history:

From the London Daily - 2 October 1880

In a most shockingly gruesome fashion, even by the annals of London’s most infamous crimes, eleven persons viciously met the most heinous deaths last night in Kensington. The victims, all in their 20’s and 30’s, were attending a party thrown by Edward Addams, in honor of his sister Cecily’s recent engagement to up and coming businessman, Stephen Cornwall. All met their grisly ends by having railroad spikes driven through their skulls.

Mr. Addam’s butler and a maid, also present at the time, were slain as well.
The day maid discovered the bodies when she came to work early this morning. She held together long enough to go and fetch the nearest constable, but has since been hospitalized with a case of hysteria.

Stepping away from journalistic impartiality, I dare say, can anyone blame her?

What sort of animal, or animals, would be capable of such a crime? The whole populace of London, especially Kensington, is sure to be terrified of this latest rash of gory murders.

The story went on to say that it appeared robbery was also involved, and that it wasn’t known if the victims knew their murderer(s).

The names of the victims, other than those whose home the killings had taken place at, were being withheld, prior to notification of their families.

Steeling himself, William then opened the Scotland Yard police report, which recorded the horrifying details in ways the newspaper hadn’t dared. It included police artist’s drawings and a few old, daguerreotype photographs of the crime scene. Also included were the names of the victims, which William read first.

Edward Addams
Cecily Addams
Stephen Cornwall
Katherine Engle
Beatrice Foxgrove
Rose McCleary
Harry Randolph
Henry Worthington
Flora Wright

George Whitmore, butler
Elsie Cassidy, maid

The words on the paper blurred. “Oh God, Henry,” William whispered, bringing his hand up to his mouth to swallow back the bile.

Edward, Cecily, his own brother, Rose, Harry, all of them; he knew all of them. Each had scorned and humiliated him at one point or another; all except Flora. Henry’s intended had always been decent to him. Still, none of them had deserved to be massacred like this.

The police report had gone on to say that besides railroad spikes through their heads, most victims also had their throats ripped open. According to the report, corpses with similar neck wounds had turned up at a variety of London locations over the past couple of months.

The bodies had been further brutalized both before and after their deaths; and it was suspected that it had been a gang, rather than the work of one person. Hands shaking William turned to the next section before he could read any more of the horrific details.

He was only vaguely aware that Giles had come up and refilled his glass. Gratefully, he drank another long swallow; the pain in his stomach only temporarily easing that of his mind.

There were a few other reports in that time period, of others killed by railroad spikes; the victims also known to him. There was also a firsthand report from a carriage driver who’d seen the four of them -- Spike, Drusilla, Angelus, and
Darla -- attack a couple as they came home late one evening. According to the driver, he had just dropped them off at their home when the attackers, whose faces he described as appearing inhuman, came out of the shadows. The driver said he’d only got away because the horse had bolted and he’d been able to keep going.

After that, there were reports and sightings of the four of them from Paris, Rome, Romania, Russia, and China over the next few decades. After the early 1900’s, the reports seemed to just contain the exploits of him and Drusilla; children killed in an orphanage in Austria, tourists with neck wounds thrown off the Eiffel Tower in Paris. Reports that they’d almost been caught in Prague by an angry mob.

The folder also contained Giles’ notes, starting when Spike and Drusilla had first arrived in Sunnydale to seek a cure for her weakness, after having been nearly killed in Prague. Later notes detailed the first time Spike consorted with Buffy:

After the unexpected loss of his soul, Angel(us) returned to their ‘little family,’ thus creating a ‘love’ triangle. When he threatened to end the world, Spike -- for the sake of his own self interest, and likely out of jealousy as well -- sought out Buffy and they struck a deal. Spike would endeavor to keep Angelus from killing me, and help bring him down. In exchange, Buffy agreed to look the other way when he and Drusilla left town. Spike’s alliance with Buffy also inadvertently, served to save the world. Acathla, although activated, was shut back down when Buffy killed Angel.

Further notes detailed how Angelus came to trick Buffy into meeting him in a cemetery when, in fact, it was a coup resulting in the death of the slayer, Kendra, as well as Giles being kidnapped and tortured so that Angelus could find out how to activate Acathla. William's features hardened as he read the Watcher's painful account:

Angelus held me for a number of days, torturing me, as he tried to get me to reveal how to activate Acathla (it was his blood that was required). Unfortunately, I must confess here that Drusilla was able to use her powers into fooling me to believe I was talking to the recently murdered Jenny Calendar. Having done so, I unwittingly gave up the information they sought.

There was also notes on Jenny Calendar's relation to the gypsies, and her subsequent death at the hands of Angelus, before she could attempt to curse him with a soul again.

Reports from others that the two of them had gone to South America, where eventually Drusilla left him, also turned up in Giles’ notes:

Distraught over his split with Drusilla, Spike temporarily returned to Sunnydale, causing his particular brand of murder and mayhem. After killing the owner of the local magic shop, he then kidnapped Xander and Willow; Xander because he was there, Willow to try to force her to do a love spell for him. As was usually the case with Spike, halfway through his plans, he did a turnabout. Deciding a love spell wasn’t what he needed after all, he once more left town.

A year later, much to all of our chagrin, Spike returned to Sunnydale, alone, and this time for good. Soon after, Spike was captured by a secret government operation going by the name, the Initiative. In a colossal underestimation of it’s own prowess, the Initiative, sought to both study demons and harness their power.

Before escaping, a behavior modification chip had been implanted in Spike’s brain, making it impossible for him to hurt humans without excruciating pain. Unable to hunt or feed, he came to us seeking refuge. Reluctantly, we agreed on the condition that Spike give us any, and all, information he could in order to help us locate the Initiative; by then responsible for causing a power imbalance in the already volatile Hellmouth.

Notes: I would be remiss to not include that due to the untimely death of the magic shop’s owner by Spike, that I became its next proprietor.

It should also be noted, this is when Spike’s more or less permanent, and most often, uneasy alliance with the slayer, myself, and Buffy’s friends -- known as the Scoobies -- started.


William skipped over most of the next section dealing with Glory. Picking up the story, Giles wrote that even after Buffy had died, Spike helped watch over Dawn, as well as fought by his and the Scoobies side against demons.

There wasn’t much after that, until finally, Giles ended with this footnote, dated a couple of years after Spike died:

Eventually, Spike went to Africa to get his soul back. What prompted him to do this, or for what ends, I don’t really know. Looking back now, I can only surmise it had to do with his wanting to be someone who would be worthy. In the end, it appears he was.

It had been nearly an hour since he’d started reading; Giles had waited patiently for him to finish. A small, almost imperceptible nod from William, was his cue to proceed.

“Quite a story, isn’t it?” Giles said gently.

“You mean quite the horror story,” William replied.

“Yes. For the most part; I believe that comes with the territory of being a vampire.”

William didn’t reply; only sat there - not moving, not blinking, not anything.

“Are you alright?” Giles asked gently. “Is there anything you’d like to ask me? ”

“How could I?” William suddenly blurted, in a voice belying his pain. “My brother, my...the people I knew?”

“You didn’t; the demon did,” Giles said, adding, “from what I understand, it’s apparently quite common for newly sired vampires to go after their families and friends.”

A fleeting look of surprise on William’s face was quickly replaced by one of self-loathing and disgust. “That’s supposed to make me feel better? Doesn’t make them any less dead, does it?”

“No, William, it doesn’t," Giles said, as he carefully set down his empty glass on the mantle. "As human beings, we all have qualms, insecurities, ambivalent, and even cruel feelings and impulses towards those closest to us. I tend to believe that, coupled with what society teaches us, for most of us, a soul keeps those impulses in-check. I think what the demon does is unshackles all those impulses and feelings. Now, without regard or remorse, the being is then able to act upon them. For some vampires, killing those closest is likely a way to sever all links to their human past; erase the living reminders of their formerly human emotions and frailties. For others, it might also be a way to even the score; maybe a bit of both.”

“Like me?”

“Perhaps,” Giles answered delicately.

“Know why he chose railroad spikes?” William asked, a bitter edge creeping into his voice.

Giles shook his head.

“I told you about how I’d humiliated myself in front of that Cecily the night I was turned, right? What I neglected to tell you was that I’d just been composing a poem about her. The inks weren’t even dried when that ponce, Stephen Cornwall, grabbed it out of my hands. He read it out loud; right in front of her, and everyone else at the party,” William said, his pulse speeding up as he relived the anxiety and humiliation of the event.

“As to be expected, it got a round of sniggers. As I was walking away, Stephen told the others he’d rather have a railroad spike through his head than to listen to any more of William’s bloody, awful poetry.”

“Got his wish then, it would... “Giles started, then suddenly his eyes widened, as it all clicked into place.

“The names you took on; Spike and William the Bloody...All from the taunting you endured as a human,” Giles said, shaking his head.

William’s bitter laugh echoed in the room. “I guess so. Poor bastard.”

Giles wasn’t sure if he was talking about himself or Spike’s victim. He guessed it was more than likely himself of whom he spoke. The two men sat there, each lost in their own thoughts, until William finally spoke again.

“What about...her? Drusilla?’

“What about her?”

William swallowed, as he tried to wrap his head around the fact that this woman, or rather this thing that he’d been so horrified and terrified by, and had eventually slain, had been his...rather Spike’s paramour for over 120 years.

“Is it the usual thing; staying with the one who sired you for so long?”

Giles took note of the conflict in William’s eyes and answered the question accordingly.

“I think most vampires tend to stay together with the ones who sired them at least for a while. Perhaps it’s some sort of filial loyalty; more likely it’s in order to learn from them. However, I’m fairly certain that the level of devotion that you showed towards Drusilla, even when she was unable to fend for herself for a while, was atypical. I also believe that she took care of you, when you were temporarily incapacitated.”

“The two of you reek of humanity,” William whispered.

Giles looked at him, puzzled. “Where did that come from?”

William’s own look mirrored Giles’. “I don’t know. It’s just something that popped into my head. I think...I think someone said that to me...to him and Drusilla. I can’t remember, but I don’t think whoever said it was human.”

“Can you see anything? Where you were at the time this was said to you?”

William thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, it was just the words that came back, and the feeling that it was directed at us.”

“By all accounts, you and Drusilla were a rarity in the demon world. It’s not like vampires are like wolves or birds that mate for life. Demons will generally turn on each other if it suits their needs. Even for long lived creatures, I’d say you and Drusilla lasting over a century is quite the anomaly in the vampire world.”

“Was it... love, then?” William asked, choking on the very word. It was a mockery, that this most beautiful of words and concepts; one that had dictated his whole life, had seemingly dictated his unlife as well. The very idea that the word love could be applied to what Spike had felt for Drusilla, was appalling to him.

“I don’t know. From all I’d learned when I became a watcher, I’d have said it was impossible to love without a soul. However, Spike rather disproved that point, I’d say. You appeared to have loved more than one person as a demon, even before your getting your soul back; at least it was some sort of expression of love. Albeit twisted at times, I’d say it was still more than most demons were capable of feeling.”

William shook his head in dismay. “Isn’t love the opposite of hate, of evil? If Spike was evil how could he love? Of course, maybe evil can just love evil. But if he loved Drusilla, who was evil, then how could he go from her to someone as good as Elizabeth, and call it the same thing?”

Now it was time for Giles head to spin. He cleared his throat. “I honestly don’t know, William. I used to see the world of vampires and demons in black and white. For better or worse knowing you, and a few others who were anomalies, has taken away that luxury. Perhaps Spike still maintained a modicum of your humanity when he was turned, which couldn’t be totally suppressed by the demon. Maybe it had something to do with the vampiric bloodline he came from.”

Giles took a few moments to offer the distraught younger man another drink. William refused, so he just refilled his own.

“I don’t know if any of these questions will ever be able to be answered to your complete satisfaction. Whist we have this folder, and our educated guesses, it’s still part conjecture. You may just have to live with that.”

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

DECEMBER 15, 2009
MIDNIGHT

LOS ANGELES

In the shadows, he clandestinely pulled the black ski mask down over his face, and buttoned his jacket over his bullet and sword proof vest. He reached into his pocket and felt reassured at the taser he felt there.

“Testing,” he whispered into a two-way.

“We hear you. All clear,” came the reply.

“I’m going in,” he said, tightening his grip on the saber he held in his left hand.

He had to admit, he felt the old thrill of danger go through his veins as he let himself into the abandoned hotel. Shining the flashlight out in front of him, he saw the pentagram that had resisted all efforts at removal, still in the center of the floor. Sidestepping it, he headed toward his old office behind the desk, and retrieved a large key that hung on a nail behind a picture.

Beyond the kitchen area was the basement door. Heart pounding, he used the key to unlock it, and cautiously went downstairs. Biting back an impulse to scream, he swiped at the numerous spider webs that stood between him and his goal.

Finally, on the opposite side of the basement, he found the old furnace. Lifting off the front panel, he groped around the base, underneath the soot, until he felt the latch. He yanked, but nothing happened. He pulled harder, and still it wouldn’t budge. After a few more, frustrating minutes of this, he finally sat back on his feet, and said a small incantation. Immediately the latch turned, and the whole hidden container rose. He pulled it out through the furnace grate, and untwisted the top. Carefully, he removed his gloves to as not get any soil on what was inside.

“And there you are,” Wesley said with a smile, as he carefully pulled out the original Shanshu Prophecy manuscript.

END CHAPTER 181

CHAPTER 182 - GATEPOSTS OF THE PAST

William didn't know when he'd formulated the idea. Perhaps it was when he'd overheard American students in the library talking about getting around London on the Tube, or when a few of the slayers talked about the closest station to get off at, for shopping in Knightsbridge. All he knew is that once he started thinking about it, he realized it had been on the periphery of his consciousness since coming back to England.

He'd known London quite well in his youth; had grown up here. Now though, in what only seemed like a blink of an eye, a bit more than a year in real time, he'd become a stranger in his homeland; one who remembered traveling by horse and buggy for the most part.

It wasn’t that there weren’t any trains in his day; there were. In nice weather he would sometimes walk the couple of miles to Chalk Farm Station to catch a train to the city. Mostly, his family’s driver would take him to, and pick him up from the station. For the most part though, he went everywhere by carriage. For one thing, there was the cost. The cost of riding first class coach cost twice that of the second and third class coaches riders paid. However, to take the second class coach meant risking being choked with dust and ashes from the engine close in front of you, and with the sides being open, one risked being thoroughly soaked before reaching one’s destination, as well. Third class was primarily occupied by the lower classes, where there was barely even a seat to be had. Coupled with the fact that William’s family already employed a driver full-time, he rarely had use of the crude trains of his day.

As he expected, and also because he'd seen flyers all over Greenwich, the Tube had it's own website, as apparently everything and everyone did in this day and age. The Docklands Light Rail, connecting to the Tube, had two stations in Greenwich; one only a few blocks from Giles' flat, the other near the Cutty Sark, close to the university. From there he could either transfer to the Circle Line, and from there either transfer to the Northern Line at either Euston or King’s Cross St. Pancras stations, or take a bus north from either of those locations.


DECEMBER 15, 2009
MONDAY
GREENWICH

11:30AM

"Do you think we really ought to do this now, or wait a few days?" Fatima asked, her fingers thoughtfully smoothing her dark, short hair. From Senegal, she’d been there almost as long as her Vi had.

"We don't know what plans Giles might be making so close to the holidays, so the sooner we give him these the better," Vi said, after a flurry of discussion.

"Does he ever have plans of his own? I mean of a personal nature? He doesn’t seem to have much of a life outside of this place," Gina said.

"That’s not really any of our business, not to mention, besides the point,” Vi said.

"Maybe we should've bought the poor guy a date," another said, causing an eruption of giggles from the rest of them.

"I know who I'd like to date," said Rose suggestively. She’d had her eye on William from the first time she saw him, and made her feelings no secret. The only person, who didn’t appear to be aware of it, was William himself.

"He's Buffy's!" Vi blurted out.

"I don't think so," Rose said slowly, tossing her long red hair over her shoulders defiantly. “If he were hers, would he be here without her? I say all’s fair in love and war."

“I’m not trying to be a bitch, Rose. Really, I’m not. You’re very pretty, and I’m sure you’ve had lots of guy liking you, but you simply don’t stand a chance...”

Vi had never forgotten that one night in the graveyard, when Spike had rushed Buffy as part of the demonstration for her, Rona, and Molly’s benefit. The Slayer had deftly sidestepped him at the last moment, and Spike had gone headfirst into a tombstone. As he lay there on the ground, Buffy suddenly noticed he was hurting. In that moment, Buffy had forgotten about their presence altogether. Lifting his shirt to examine his ribs, she’d displayed a loving gentleness toward the vampire Vi had never seen her display towards anyone before. Spike had taken Buffy’s hand, stopping her from further exploration; assuring her he would be okay. Their gazes had locked on one another until Rona had so succinctly said, “That’s hot!”

For her part, Vi honored Giles request not to question William about his private life. Even so, through slips of the tongue he’d made, she believed that William and Buffy had been living together until recently.

“Let’s go see Giles,” Vi said, ending any further discussion with Rose.

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

"Very good, I'll either be there when you arrive, or send one of the girls to pick you up...Yes, I do hope you make it all the way this time, too. Until then," Giles said.

No sooner had he replaced the receiver than he heard a knock on the door.

"Come in."

The door opened, and over a dozen slayers filed in, filling every available space in the small office.

"What's this?" Giles asked, standing up.

"Giles, we wanted you to have this. It's an early Christmas present," Vi said, handing him an envelope, with a gold bow on it.

Giles eyes softened, as he accepted the envelope and carefully opened it. Wordlessly, he stared at the two tickets for a Premiership football match between Chelsea and Manchester United this coming Saturday. Looking up at their expectant faces, he felt an overwhelming feeling of pride, and something else that very closely resembled what he’d always felt towards Buffy.

"Girls...um, ladies," he said, clearing his throat. "I don't know what to say...this is most generous. I haven't....I haven't been to a match since I was young...a much younger man," he corrected, with a laugh.

They laughed along with him, good-naturedly.

"We thought you deserved a good, old-fashioned guys day out. Go, team, go, and all that," said Erica, who as their resident Londoner, had found out what Giles favorite team was, and procured the tickets.

“Um, yes, well...” Giles said, still overwhelmed. “I want to thank all of you, this is most...most unexpected, and wonderful!”

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

10:00AM

Just to garner his courage, William had boarded the train in Greenwich for the first time last week, made the connection to the Circle Line, then rode it straight back. The next day, to once more familiarize himself with a city that he hadn't seen in almost a century, he both rode the trains, and got off at different stations.

Although it comforted him to see the familiar street names and sights he'd known as a boy and young man-- St. James, Westminster, and Covent Gardens--there was still a striking difference in this London, and the one he remembered.

Each day he ventured into London a little more, getting off at a different station trying to find the familiar, accept the different.

Three days ago, he'd found the house in Kensington, now a two-flat, it still looked much the same. This was where his younger self had so innocently and hopefully gone to a party, never to return to his old life again. The old carriage house he'd ducked into after running out of the party, his dignity and hopes in tatters, was long gone. A flat now stood in its place.

Yesterday he'd gone to Hyde Park to look for the home of his brother. Although he knew he had the right address, the building looked so thoroughly different, he thought it probable that it had been replaced at some point.

Today, he'd gotten off the Tube at Euston, and boarded a bus north for Hampstead. The traffic heavy at first, it thinned out as he traveled north. He transferred to second bus where Kentish Town Road came to a fork; one turning into Fortress Road, the other into Highgate. The slow drizzle had turned into a steady downpour, as William nervously looked out the rain streaked windows hoping to see something familiar, as the bus made it's way up Highgate Road.

Three hundred and sixty-five times one hundred and twenty.
Three hundred and sixty-five times one hundred and twenty.
Bring the zero down.
Two times five equal ten.
Carry the one.
Two times six equal twelve
Carry the one...


To his left he saw the familiar look of the southern tip of Hampstead Heath, and soon the names of the streets became familiar, even if the signs were modern. His pulse quickened as they approached St. Albans Road, and he pulled the cord to let the bus driver know of his intention to get off. On the northwest corner was St. Albans School, the primary school of his youth. Though it looked much larger than William remembered, he still recognized the original smaller structure, which stood at its center. Across the street from the school, and part of the heath, was where he and his fellow classmates used to play cricket; now replaced by tennis courts and a bowling green.

William wished he had thought to bring an umbrella, as the rain fell harder. He pulled his coat around him, and started to walk the few blocks north, wondering what he would find. Along the eastern side of the heath were a series of ponds, the first which he'd always had a clear view of as he walked towards his home. Now, there were houses, and a street that hadn't been there before, partially obstructing his view. However, he caught a glimpse of it in a clearing, and he knew he was getting close. His family's home had been a few acres east of, and almost directly between, the first and second ponds. Further west, stood old Highgate Cemetery, with it’s famous angel statuary.

When last he’d been there, his home had been one of only ten or so, on the whole stretch of road from St. Albans for the next half mile. Now, although the homes still had a fair amount of land around them, there were dozens upon dozens; the newer ones obviously displacing the land that had lain between the older homes. The trees, once standing like sentinels to let him know he was nearing home, had long been removed to make way for development.

Suddenly, he stopped; there it was. William might have missed his old home altogether, yet for one thing: the brick gateposts and low lying brick wall surrounding the house had still remained. His heartbeat quickened, as he stood across the street squinting through the rain at the changes over one hundred years had wrought.

The original three-story house, which he’d always thought quite spacious to begin with, had been added to. The newest section had been added to the southern end of the house. Originally, this was the area, which had led to the back, and to their carriage house. Now a car was parked inside the gates, to the left of this new addition. William tentatively walked across the street, stopping when he got near the gateposts. His hand hesitantly came out of his pocket, and he found it tracing the rough brick, remembering its feel.

He followed the outside of the vine covered brick wall so that he was now in front of the central part of the house, and peered in at it through the foliage. Except for the windows looking new, except for those long French ones on the second floor, this part of the house looked exactly the same. He pinched his eyes together tight. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could wake up from all of this, be William again; who he’d been before Spike had happened to him. He could almost hear the voice of his mother through the downpour.

“William! What are you doing standing out there in the rain?”

“I’m waiting to see if I can spot father’s carriage.”

“He’ll be here soon enough, but you’ll catch your death way before that. Come in out of the rain, William!”

“Yes, mum...”

William opened his eyes. A tear ran down his cheek, mingling with the rain. With a last, longing look at the home that was no longer his, he took off running back towards St. Albans.

Unbeknownst to him, a young, small figure at the top window had just been joined by a taller, older one.

“Are you sure you saw someone?”

“I’m sure mummy. The man was standing over there at first,” she said pointing toward the gateposts, “and then over there. He looked sad.”

The mother reached down, and thoughtfully ran her fingers through her daughter’s light brown curls, as she looked up and down the street. At five, Alyson had already demonstrated quite the imagination; though usually it took on the form of imaginary friends in her room, not on the street. Her friends also tended to be closer to her own age, not adults.

“I believe you, but I don’t see anybody now. He must have left.”

The daughter looked up at her mother, and nodded slowly.

“He must have, but I think he’ll be back.”

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

Giles drove home for dinner in a cheery mood, even going quite a bit over the speed limit, despite the rain, which had finally slowed to a drizzle. Every now and again he would look down at the envelope, sitting on the passenger seat next to him. Allowing himself a rare moment of frivolity, he turned the radio station on full blast to an oldies 70’s music station, and sang along to tunes that reminded him of his much more carefree youth, before duty had so strongly called.

Arriving home, he hurried inside, and went straight for his office.

“Mrs. Greeves, I’ll be taking dinner in here, today. Um...something’s come up,” he called, turning on the computer. He waited until she had brought it in and left the room, before going to the website he was looking for. The official site of the Chelsea football team.

Although he’d kept up with the sport a bit over the years, catching a game here and there on the telly, he hadn’t really been as avid a fan as he had been in his youth.

His solemn responsibilities as a Watcher, had seemed to contraindicate that type of enjoyment, as well as it being looked down upon by his peers at the former Council. Not only that, but once in the States, he realized that the Americans were far, far less into what they called soccer, than his countrymen were.

‘It’s just a silly game,’ he’d told himself.

Before he realized it, Giles had spent almost two hours on the Internet, finding out who was up in the games, who the best players were, and what the odds were if he wanted to place a bet on this Saturday’s game.

Giles was still in his study when the front door opened. He hadn't seen much of William for a couple of days, not since their latest session. This one featuring a discussion after William had read the Council files about Spike and Drusilla’s hundred plus year’s history. Although he'd tried to provide a counterbalance to the stark, documented horrors, he felt he’d fallen short, and the sense of despair had been palpable. As he’d expected, William had retreated for some days afterwards. What was surprising, was that he was now here.


“What are you doing here?” they both asked the other at once.

Giles cleared his throat. “Um...I’m afraid I got caught up in something,” Giles replied. Normally, he would’ve been at back at the Council offices at this time of day. Nonchalantly, he logged off of the Chelsea football team's website, then nodded toward William.

“Just back from my...wanderings,” William answered, rather evasively.

“Ah, yes. Well, I hope you had a productive morning; at least it stopped raining,” Giles said, leaving it at that.

Although quite curious as to where exactly William was spending his time, he resisted asking him directly. Despite his sometimes, fragile mental state; William was, after all, a grown man. If he didn’t care to divulge where it was he went when alone, then who was he to ask? At least, that’s what he told himself. The idea to follow William, or to have one of the girls do it, had crossed his mind more than once. Still, no matter how he tried to justify such a notion, he couldn’t. William was no longer Spike, and as such, entitled to whatever degree of autonomy he chose for himself.

“How would you like to go to a football game this Saturday?” Giles asked with a boyish grin.

END CHAPTER 182

CHAPTER 183 - DINNER WITH RILEY

DECEMBER 19, 2009
FRIDAY
5:00PM

Buffy stood surveying the clothes strewn all over her bed. For the past hour she'd gone through everything in her closet, trying to find something to wear for her 'date' with Riley. The problem was trying to find something that didn't have a memory of William associated with it. Finally, in the back of the closet, she found a somewhat conservative, sleeveless beige knit dress, with a short, matching jacket. She'd only worn it once, when she'd interviewed with Mrs. Carpello. She sighed, wondering if it would be nice enough for the expensive French restaurant Riley had invited her to meet him at in Santa Monica. Slipping it on, she looked at herself in the mirror. It would do. It looked good on her, complimentary, but not sexy. She didn't want to give him any wrong ideas; did she?

All week, every time she thought of the approaching date, her stomach clenched. On the one hand, it simply felt wrong after all this time to be going out with Riley again, even if it was understood, that it was only as friends. On the other hand, Buffy felt just a bit rebellious about the whole thing. It had been almost exactly a month since William had been gone, and in that time, she’d had only one email from him. One! With that in mind, she carefully applied her makeup, and put her hair up in a loose, flattering way. A long forgotten pair of gold, hoop earrings she'd received from one of her students, completed the look. Unconsciously, she reached up toward her neck to touch the lovebird necklace that was no longer there.

"So be it," she said to her reflection, and headed out the door for the long drive to Santa Monica.

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

Riley was waiting for her in the parking lot of the hotel where the French restaurant, Cafe Cézanne was located, when she arrived. It had given her pause when he'd told her it was located in a fancy hotel, hoping that he hadn't any aspirations other than dinner. Nah, it was Riley, she reasoned.

She put on her best Buffybot smile, as he loped over to the car, in a few long-legged strides.

"You look great, Buffy," he said, holding open her car door for her.

"Thanks, you too, Riley," she said, and meant it. He was wearing tan dress pants, a light blue button down, short-sleeved shirt, and a dark navy sports coat.

"And just in case of a more stringent dress code...” he said with a grin, pulling a ready-to-wear necktie out of his breast pocket.

"Prepared as always, I see," Buffy said.

“Boy Scout’s mantra...as well as that of a good soldier’s.”

“Of course,” Buffy said, with a laugh.

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

Once seated, they made small talk, until they’d ordered; Buffy noting the ease at which Riley did so in French. He looked up and caught her staring at him, when the waiter had left. Self-consciously, she took a sip of the wine that had been poured.

“Didn’t expect me to know French, did you?”

Buffy shook her head. “I don’t know why not. I guess I just didn’t put it together with...“

“...Me? That’s okay Buffy, I was never an intellectual; I know that. I guess French is one of those languages that everyone thinks is associated with that sort of thing.”

“Oh, and like I was known for my intellect?” Buffy laughed.

“Actually, I picked it up when Sam and I were stationed for about eight months in French Guiana on a mission a few years back.”

“Oh. What were you doing there? I mean, if it’s not classified...”

“No, not anymore," he said with a laugh. "We were fighting demons that had taken over Devil’s Island, where an old penal colony used to be. They were close enough to the rest of the islands to be causing problems. They’d come over at night, and well, you can guess the rest.”

Buffy nodded. “Devil’s Island, huh? Good name.”

“That’s what Sam and I thought, too,” Riley said, with a flicker of sadness. He cleared his throat.

“So, how were your classes?"

Classes? How had he found out about...? Then she remembered.

"They were fine, thanks,” Buffy said, quickly making the catch. At least she hoped so.

When she’d called Riley earlier in the week to set up the time and place - using the untraceable phone she’d gotten from Clem a couple of years ago - she’d told him she was teaching self-defense. It was the first reasonably thing she thought of that Riley would believe. Heck, if she told him the truth, she doubted that he would believe it. She knew she was being deceptive, but with Riley’s past and present connections to clandestine, government sanctioned demon hunting, she couldn’t be too careful, especially where her connection to William was concerned.

"How long have you been doing that?"

"Quite a while," Buffy said.

"Where did you say it was at?"

"I didn't. It's in Alhambra,” Buffy said, pulling up the first name out of her liar’s hat she was donning that she could come up with.

“Huh...I’ve never been there. How far is that from where you live?”

“Just a little drive north. Of course in L.A., nothing is a short drive,” she said, nervously. Keeping all her facts straight, especially, when she hadn’t thought them all through, was beginning to hurt her brain.

"So, what else is up in your life? I want to hear everything; it’s been so long...”

The waiter came at that moment, setting down their salads, and giving her a chance to think about her answer.

“Not really that much to tell. Work, eat, sleep, repeat. Just the normal stuff," she said, as she poured a little bit of the Caesar's dressing over her salad.

“Normal stuff, eh? From what I recall, you were anything but normal."

"Gee thanks. Just what every girl wants to hear."

"I was going to say you were extraordinary. That’s a good word, isn’t it?"

"Yes, and might I add that was a good save, Mr. Finn?"

“Not a save, Buffy. It's the truth. I always thought so," he said, reaching across the table and taking her hand for a moment, before quickly releasing it.

"Thanks," Buffy said, adding, "but I get the feeling there's a but in there somewhere.”

"There's not, but I can't deny that I've been wondering something."

"What's that?" Buffy asked, tensing.

"You're really okay with not being the slayer anymore? I mean I know that working at a self-defense school must have it's own rewards, but it's not the same. I just never considered that you would’ve just given it up.”

It stung, this quiet accusation, which in her own head was magnified loudly from her own guilt over the decision to lay down her stakes.

“After the Hellmouth...I just needed a break,” she said simply.

Riley nodded, though he really didn’t understand how she could’ve given it up. He would never dream of just quitting; not since that time when he’d been with the Initiative. Quitting just wasn’t in his vocabulary, no matter the cost.

“So, are you seeing anyone?” Riley asked a bit too casually.

Buffy hesitated for a minute before answering. “Yes, but it’s...complicated.”

“They always are. Relationships, that is. He’s not married or something, is he? Because if he is, I'm authorized to take him out."

God, those words!

Buffy’s heart started racing; Riley had to remember saying that to her before, didn’t he? Did he somehow know who she was talking about? She stole a glance at him, but he just innocently winked at her.

“No, nothing like that,” she said in a calm voice.

“Good. I mean that he’s not married, not that it’s complicated.”

“I knew what you meant.”

“Whoever he is, I have to say that he still has to be a far cry better than the last guy I saw you with,” he said rolling his eyes.

Now she knew he didn't know, but now she wasn't alarmed, she was pissed. Her eyes flashed anger, but Riley missed it when the waiter arrived at that very moment to refill their wineglasses.

"To friendship," Riley said, toasting.

Buffy gave a short, terse nod, before clinking glasses with him.

She waited for the other shoe to drop, but talk turned to other things, the world in general, old friends, his job, and his hopes for the future. Riley spoke a bit more about his divorce from Sam, his current work, and his plans for one day moving back to Washington, D.C. and working for the Pentagon.

“I used to think that one day, I’d settle down, and move back home to Iowa. I think I’m well past that point now, though, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I think it would probably be a bit hard...after everything,” Buffy agreed, while thinking, ‘I can do this. Just a nice, normal dinner conversation with an old boyfriend.’



“Let’s take a walk,” Riley suggested as he paid their bill, and just as Buffy was about to thank him for the dinner, and leave.

"I really should be getting home,” she said, adding, “I've got an early day tomorrow."

"We’ll just make it a short one then, okay? Come on, we haven't seen each other in over six years," Riley urged.

Buffy reluctantly agreed, and they wound up on the beach near Santa Monica Pier. As they started off down the sand, she bent over to take off her shoes. When she wobbled for a moment, Riley quickly grabbed hold of her to prevent her from falling.

“You okay?”

She nodded mutely, suddenly made aware of his strong, warm arms supporting her, and how they should feel nice to her, but they didn't. Not really beyond the physical sensation her body registered as other. Certainly not in the whole mind/body way that William’s touch made her feel.

“I’m good now,” Buffy said, as she straightened up, gently moving out of Riley's grasp in such a way as to not be obvious.

Funny, years ago she would've told herself that it had merely been the physical sensations and escapism that Spike offered her that kept her coming back to him for more, and maybe, just maybe, for a while it had been. Before she could even admit it to herself, it had turned into something else from him that she craved: acceptance. Spike had both accepted and loved her whole being - her light, as well as her dark sides. That had given her a freedom she'd never had. Sadly, she wondered if William would ever feel the same, with everything they’d been through.

“So, what exactly happened to Sunnydale?"

Buffy sighed, realizing she hadn’t gotten a pass from that topic after all. As they continued walking, she filled him in on what had happened with the Potentials, the Council, and The First; some of which he’d already knew about. She kept the painful specifics to herself, especially about Spike.

“It's been sort of hard to miss some of those new commando-style, newbie slayers popping out of nowhere during our operations," Riley said. "We nearly killed a couple of them, until we got what they were all about.”

“I’m sorry about that. After all the Potentials became instant slayers, Giles, Willow, Faith, and some others who were there..."

"Faith? As in, Faith who wanted to be you? Faith the killer, Faith?"

"Um...yes, Faith; the one and the same. She's good now," Buffy added quickly, remembering all too well the time Faith had forcibly switched bodies with her, and tricked Riley into sleeping with her in the process.

"Well, color me surprised!"

"What can I say? We needed her. She was the only other slayer, besides me, when this first started. Anyway, as I was saying, they’re still in the process of finding all the potentials and bringing them to London for training."

“So, let me get this straight," Riley said, shaking his head, as he tried to clear it of the image of Faith. "You decided to share your power with possibly thousands of untrained potentials from all over the globe? Then after the fact, locate them for training?”

Buffy stopped walking. “You make it sound like I decided to do this with the same amount of thought I might decide to stop and buy a coffee in the morning. I didn't have a choice! The First and its’ army of ubervamps weren't something that one slayer, or even two, could defeat. If there had been a different way, don’t you think I would’ve chosen it? Do you think I wanted this?” Buffy said, her voice rising, partly because of the guilt she’d never quite examined in any great depth over having left all the training up to others.

“Of course not, Buffy,” Riley said gently, putting his hand on her shoulder. “It’s just that some of these girls out there are dangerous. They have this power, and they don’t know what to do with it.”

“You mean dangerous for government types who decided getting into the demon slaying business was your area of expertise?” Buffy asked, angrily.

Riley removed his hand from her shoulder; her anger met with a frosty stare. As suddenly as it had appeared it vanished. In it’s wake leaving the reasonable, innocent, Iowa boy look he’d honed well over the years.

“I’m afraid this is where you and I are just going to have to agree to disagree, Buffy. The government has more power at its disposal than you could...” Riley shook his head. “Not going to go there, Buffy. Let’s just say, that without government ops, there are lots of areas of the world that would’ve been decimated by demons. Who do you think other governments call when suddenly they’ve got a demon problem threatening to get out of hand, before it causes widespread death and panic? Who do you think is sent in after demons in the jungles, mountains, and areas that most people have never heard of? Do you think they call 1-800-SLAYERS? No Buffy, they call us!” Riley said, heatedly.

“That might be, but who's been there to stop apocalypses? Me, the slayers before me, and all the new slayers who now fall into that category!”

“Even slayers without training?”

“I’m not saying that a loose cannon slayer is a good thing, but when it comes down to it, I think that she would still have better instincts than even...”

“Than even me, you were going to say?”

“Riley, I know how long you’ve been at this, and how well you’re trained. I just don’t see any soldier being quite able to do what a slayer can do.”

“I seem to recall that you had plenty of civilians who weren’t slayers helping you all the time in Sunnydale. They weren’t even trained like us government types, as you put it.”

“No, they weren’t, and ultimately it all rested on me, but my friends and my family were my backbone. They kept me alive I don’t know how many times.”

“Well, when the chips are down, I’ll take my trained comrades any day over a witch, a Watcher, a comedian, an ex-vengeance demon, and a twisted, lovesick vampire. Speaking of the evil undead, whatever happened when you had Spike's chip removed?"

Mistaking her stunned silence over his casually cruel comments for culpability, Riley blundered on like a blind man towards a cliff.

"Sorry, Buffy, I had a feeling that it wouldn't turn out well. I also knew you wouldn't have believed me then, but I'm still sorry you had to find out the hard way. When they told me that you'd decided to have Spike's chip removed, instead of a new one, I knew nothing good would come from that. It was just his nature; soulless vampire you know, chip or no chip. Then again, you seemed to have developed a soft spot for the idiot.”

A myriad of emotions went through her mind all at once, until she did the most unlikely thing of all:

She laughed.

She laughed at how so terribly wrong he was, and at her younger self, who at one time believed that Riley was the one for her. She laughed at her now untenable situation, here with him, while William was God-only-knows where. Doubled over, she laughed at the absurdity of the situation; out on a date with Riley, listening to him put down the people she loves. Especially Spike, her formerly soulless vampire enemy, turned friend and lover. Her soul-getting hero and champion, her shanshu’d-back-from-the-dead, newly human again, beloved.

Hers, always hers.

Buffy let her laughter fuel the fury, and fight back the tears.

“Care to share what’s so funny?” Riley asked, perturbed.

As suddenly as it started, it stopped, and Buffy slowly straightened up to her full 5’3” stature, fixing Riley with a steely glare.

Oh yeah, she was going to share, alright.

“First of all, don’t you ever, ever talk about Spike like that in front of me again!
Secondly, Spike wasn’t soulless anymore.” Buffy said, smiling in satisfaction at seeing the shocked look on Riley’s face.

“That’s right,” she continued, nodding, “Spike got his soul back, a few months after you and Sam came to Sunnydale.”

“How? I don’t believe it! It must’ve been a trick!”

“No, it wasn’t a trick. Spike got his soul back,” Buffy said proudly, looking squarely into Riley’s disbelieving eyes.

“How’d he do it, Buffy? Do they sell souls on eBay now? Or did Spike go to Souls-R-Us, instead?”

“Gee that’s pretty funny for someone who doesn’t seem to care for comedians. FYI, Spike went to Africa, and fought for his soul to be returned to him, for me, and so he could be a better man, so he could...”

“He’ll never be a man, Buffy! He’s a thing! An evil, dead thing,” Riley said vehemently. Buffy winced, hearing the words that she herself had so often said to Spike. “And even if it is true like you say, I’ll tell you why Spike did it; so he could get into your pants! Then again as I recall, he already was.”

Had they not been outside, with the wind and waves to absorb sound, the slap Buffy delivered would have had a great echo. As it was, Riley’s head snapping back and her hand smarting was proof enough.

Shock and anger played simultaneously across Riley’s features. He grabbed hold of her arms, squeezing them tightly.

“What in God’s name is the matter with you, Buffy? Spike’s a vampire! Chipped or not, soulless or not, he’s still the enemy, one of the bad guys! I thought you of all people would have understood that, being the slayer. First Angel, then Spike,” Riley said, looking at her with disgust. “You were supposed to kill your enemies, not sleep with them!”

“I suggest you take your hands off me, Riley,” Buffy said, low and threatening. He did, taking a step back, his fingers splayed in a conciliatory gesture.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t buy this fanciful tale you’re telling me about Spike, of all people.”

“It doesn’t matter to me if you believe me or not, Riley. I know what I know, and that’s this: Not only did he become a good man, a man I was proud to have watching my back, but Spike loved me better than any man, living or dead, ever did, or ever will. That’s something nobody can ever take away from me!”

Riley looked at her as though she’d grown three heads. “I feel sorry for you, Buffy. I truly do; you’re deluded!”

Buffy laughed, “I don’t need your pity, Riley.”

He could only stare at her. Where was the Buffy he once loved? The Slayer, warrior against evil, and the strongest woman he’d ever known. Now she was acting like a simpering schoolgirl, lusting after the evil undead, and it sickened him to the core of his being.

“No wonder your current relationship is complicated if you believe that, Buffy. Does your current guy know how you feel?”

“More or less,” she finally replied, keeping her answer as vague as possible. She’d been brought up short by Riley’s question, asking her if William, whom he didn’t know about, knew about her love for Spike.

What was that saying? What a tangled web we weave? That certainly summed it up, in a nutshell.

“Know what, Buffy? It’s getting late, and like you said, you have an early day tomorrow. Why don’t we just call it a night, okay?”

“That’s fine by me,” Buffy said, “but I have a few other things to say, before we end this.”

“Make your point,” Riley said, with a heavy sigh, “but there’s nothing you can say that will ever convince me that Spike was either good or a man.”

“Then I’ll start with the others,” Buffy said, her voice steely. “If it weren’t for Willow, I wouldn’t have been able to share my power, and the world wouldn’t be in the good hands it’s in today; many hands. A slayer has a short shelf life; not many made it even as long as I did, dying twice notwithstanding, but with all of them, they can help each other, fight evil, and still have a somewhat normal life! It’s given all of us the chance to live.

Giles was the most devoted watcher a slayer ever had. Did he make mistakes? Of course he did. So did I. The Council teaches it’s watchers using an ideal, a cookie cutter image of what a slayer is and should be. God knows,” she laughed, “that wasn’t me. Still, Giles adapted. Not only that, he really cared about me, as if I were...more than just some expendable slayer there to do the Council’s bidding in their war against evil.” Buffy smiled fondly; glad she was now able to think of Giles without also thinking of the rupture in their relationship after his visit last April. She made a mental note to give him a call soon.

“As for the comedian, how dare you minimize Xander in this way? His contributions to me, personally, and to fighting evil is without measure! Even without any superpower, he had more balls, heart, and courage than anybody! He lost an eye due to The First. Still, when the final battle went down, he was there, like always! I’d place my money on Xander anytime over anyone you could bring to the fight,” Buffy said, her voice quaking with barely controlled rage as her indignation continued to grow.

“And that ex-vengeance demon had the chance to leave before the final battle, but she stayed. Anya died fighting as a mere human, for humans that she never could quite understand, yet loved all the same. Even if she would deny it,” Buffy said, smiling to herself.

Riley didn’t say anything for a minute, as he tried to absorb all of what she’d told him. Finally he cleared his throat.

“For them, I’ll apologize, Buffy. I didn’t mean they weren’t of value to you; they were. I know that, still, except for Giles, they were untrained. You can’t deny that over the years your Scoobies had as many misses as hits. They put your life in danger as often as they helped you.”

“Oh, and you did better, I suppose?” Buffy asked coolly.

“As a matter of fact, I’d say I did,” Riley replied smugly. “It’s not bragging, Buffy. It’s just the facts.”

“Funny, I seem to remember saving your ass a number of times, too.”

“That was because I got deterred from the mission, when I got involved with you and your friends. If it hadn’t been for that, I never would’ve been in the types of situations I found myself in.”

“Oh, and getting drugged up by crazy Dr. Walsh and company was preferable?” Buffy asked, incredulous.

“No, of course not,” Riley conceded. “That was overzealous and misguided, but their intentions were noble.”

“Noble?” Buffy asked, fuming. “Harnessing the power of demons for the government’s use was a noble pursuit? God, Riley! Do you hear yourself?”

“I’m a soldier in a war that few people know about Buffy.”

“It sounds more to me like you’re an automaton!”

“Is that what you think I am?” Riley asked.

She regarded him from head to toe, wondering what it had been that she’d even seen in him. Riley was supposed to have been the nice guy, the normal guy. Now all she saw was a cold, aloof man who saw the world in stark relief, a man without poetry or passion in his soul.

“If the shoe fits...”

Riley nodded curtly. “Well, that may be, but what you call automaton, I call tried and true. When I’m out there in the field, my partners know exactly what to expect from me, and I know what to expect from them.”

Silently, they walked back along the beach, and up to the hotel’s parking lot.

“Before we go, I have one last thing to tell you about the final battle on the Hellmouth. I didn't tell you exactly how the Hellmouth collapsed, and Sunnydale along with it. Before the battle, I was given a powerful amulet, which was to bestow strength on the right person who wore it; someone ensouled, but stronger than human."

Buffy took a deep breath before continuing, “I gave it to Spike, and without any qualms he accepted it; asked for it even, knowing that he most likely wouldn't survive the outcome of what the amulet would do to him in the process of destroying the Hellmouth. Spike died saving the world, Riley, your world, as well as mine. Spike died a champion!”

“Spike’s dead? Spike died...?” Riley asked, the rest of the words refusing to come.

“...a hero,” Buffy finished for him. “And one more thing, just so we’re clear. Spike didn’t love me in vain; I loved him, too. I always will.”

“I don’t know what to say, Buffy," Riley said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Goodbye is good, I think,” Buffy said, looking one last time at the man she’d once thought was the one for her.

He held her eyes for a moment, then gave a short nod. “Goodbye, Buffy.”

“Goodbye, Riley,” Buffy said softly, watching as he walked to his car, got in, and drove out of the parking lot.

As his taillights drove out of sight, Buffy slumped against her car, exhausted.
Despite Dawn’s expectation that she spend the night with her and John, to avoid the long drive home, Buffy decided she needed time alone to clear her head. She made a phone call to Dawn to let her know the change in plans, but Dawn wouldn’t hear of it.

“Get over here now, Buffy, or I’ll come to that restaurant and pick you up myself!”

“Alright, alright, you win, Dawn. I’m too tired to argue anyway,” Buffy said, wearily.

“Which is reason #1 that you shouldn’t be driving all the way home tonight! See you in a while,” Dawn said, without giving Buffy a chance to respond.

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

“God, what a jerk!” Dawn said, later that night as they commiserated over a cup of hot cocoa and little marshmallows like their mom used to make them.
Buffy nodded, blowing on the hot liquid in order to cool it down.

“Riley was always sort of orderly, or tightly wound as a certain someone would say,” she said, smiling fondly remembering Spike’s physical gestures and mannerisms that often went along with his snarky expressions.

“Now though, I don’t even recognize him anymore. Maybe he was always like that, and just tried to loosen up a bit for my sake. It sure didn’t take him long to rejoin the rank and file, after I’d found out about him getting suck jobs from vamp ho’s. Guess I have Spike to thank for that, too.”

“Riley and vamp ho’s?” Dawn asked, her eyes big. “I don’t believe it! Wow! Riley?

Oh crap, Buffy realized that she’d never told Dawn about that because she was much younger then, and she also didn’t want her to be any more hurt and angry with Riley for up and leaving, than she already was going to be.

Buffy just nodded.

“When you say ‘suck jobs,’ what exactly do you mean? Oh, God, don’t answer that. Just...eww!”

“What are you guys talking about?” John asked, having chosen just that moment to come into the living room, wearing nothing but workout pants, and rubbing his hair with a towel.

“Nothing!” Buffy and Dawn both replied.

John gave them a good-natured grin and shrugged, and went back into the bedroom.

They giggled, as soon as the door closed. Buffy couldn’t help but feel a small pang of yearning over the effortless domesticity of Dawn and John’s life, in contrast to her own.

“It’s nice,” Buffy said softly.

“What is?”

“This, you guys. I’m happy for you,” Buffy said sincerely.

“You miss him, don’t you?” Dawn asked.

“Yeah, Dawnie. I really do.”

“So then, what are you going to do about it?”

A look of hesitation crossed Buffy’s face and she swallowed hard.

“I don’t know. Do you think I should be doing something about it?” Buffy asked, looking down at the swirl of melted marshmallows in her cup. “William was pretty clear about his needing to do whatever it is he needed to do by himself...”

“But...?” Dawn coaxed.

“But...I keep feeling like he needs me, even if he can’t admit it, or is afraid to. He’s so...scared, Dawn. I feel it, I know it, deep down, I...”

“...So, I repeat, Buffy. What are you going to do about it?”

Buffy looked up at Dawn, slowly nodding.

Dawn smiled, satisfied. Her sisterly work was done.

END CHAPTER 183

CHAPTER 184 - THE GAME

DECEMBER 17, 2009
WEDNESDAY
GREENWICH

The week prior to the game had been quite busy for Giles. He’d been fielding calls regarding some new slayers who had been located in the Congo. Not only was language a problem, but the fact that civil unrest was a way of life there didn’t exactly make for an easy way to reach the new slayers; communication being sketchy at the best of times.

Although he’d tried his best to attract and train new watchers, it hadn’t been easy. At best, it was a crash course, compared to all the field knowledge that had been lost when The First had decimated their ranks. For the whole of Africa, there were only a half-dozen trained watchers for the possibly hundreds or more slayers throughout the continent, when they could’ve used ten, twenty, even thirty times that number. Giles sighed, knowing there would never be an adequate number, nor would it ever be possible to find them all. It depressed him to think of all those young women, not knowing what they were, or what had happened to them. He only hoped that they would do the best they could, on the side of good, with the slayer strength they were bestowed with.

Wesley had called to say that he wouldn’t be able to make it until after the holidays, due to recent demon activity up in San Bernardino National Forest. He was sending some of his slayers, and wanted to be there with them if they needed assistance.

“If it doesn’t take too long to resolve the problem, I could still come,” Wesley had said.

“No, you’re right, of course. Your duty is to the slayers under your watch, and their mission.”

“I could send the scrolls containing the Shanshu prophecy ahead, if you wish,” Wes suggested. “Then when I am able to get there, I can further lend a hand in it’s translation, if you haven’t been able to...”

“No, it will hold until then. I’d feel better if the original scrolls didn’t leave your hands,” Giles said, though he’d been anxious to see it firsthand. “By the way, I’ll send you one of the Council’s Emergency Death Certificates that you can give to the airline, so they’ll credit you for the next flight.”

“Thank you, Giles,” Wes said. He smiled to himself, knowing that was as much for the Council’s benefit as much as his own since they, hence Giles, paid for his airfare.

“You’ll let me know if you need any assistance?” Giles queried.

“I will. I don’t know if you told William that I was coming, but when you speak to him, do wish him a happy holiday for me, would you?”

“I’ll be glad to pass it along. He knew you were coming, but not why, of course. I think William will be a bit disappointed; he seems rather fond of you.”

“It’s mutual,” Wes said, thinking of the unassuming young man he’d spent only a few hours with. “Rather odd to be speaking of the former William the Bloody this way, isn’t it? Who would’ve ever thought...?”

“Yes, quite, ”Giles replied, thinking it even odder to have him as an invited house guest.

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

Giles had also been busy with after hours shopping. Not for Christmas shopping, which he hadn’t even thought to do as of yet, but for the upcoming Chelsea game this weekend.

After work one evening, he’d taken himself and a very reluctant William, to a sports shop in nearby Black Heath. The shop, crowded with holiday shoppers, carried sweatshirts, T-shirts, jackets, caps, shot glasses, mugs, thermoses, posters, books, pendants, and every other conceivable team memento in all sizes, shapes, and colors.

Giles did feel a pang of guilt or two, for buying here, rather than at the Stamford Bridge Stadium shop. However, above all else, he was a practical and prudent man.

“What are you doing?” Giles asked, finding William a few rows away looking at the opposing team’s gear.

“I was thinking about purchasing this,” William said, holding up a Manchester United pullover.

“I would seriously advise against that,” Giles said.

“Why?” William asked, taken aback.

“Because you’re likely to sustain serious bodily harm, if you were to consider wearing that, while sitting with Blues supporters,” Giles explained, as if to a child.

“Then I’ll sit with the Manchester United ones,” William said petulantly. He didn’t quite understand the strong feelings he had for ManU himself. He’d only seen a few games with John last year and only caught one since he’d been here. Still, they ‘felt’ like his team.

Giles felt his patience beginning to wear thin. His mind went back to when Spike, as his obstinate houseguest in Sunnydale, would not only eat his snacks, but also drink his best scotch, and irritate him to no end by prattling on about Manchester United.

“Oh, bollocks I say to Manchester, and to that wanker Beckham, too!” Giles had yelled at Spike one day, slamming his glass down so hard on the coffee table that it shattered. The vampire had just gotten on his last nerve going on about the great and mighty Red Devils as they were watching a game, where Manchester was thoroughly trouncing Arsenal. If they lost to Manchester, it would also knock Chelsea out of getting to the championship playoffs completely.

Spike just smirked in that irritating way of his.

Darkly, Giles considered that there wasn’t enough Glenlivet in all of Southern California to make Spike living with him even barely tolerable. Not to mention, getting smashed while in the proximity of a vampire, even a chipped one, wasn’t the brightest of ideas.

“Think I might just sire Beckham,” Spike went on, goading Giles. This, back before Beckham had sold out to Spain.

“How the hell is he going to play then without turning to dust, you berk?” Which actually might have been interesting, if you were watching from the opposing stands. The other teams would surely have a new ditty to taunt Manchester with, by the next time they faced them.

“He can play night games,” Spike said. “And then he can just eat his opponents, after he kicks their asses.”

“Oh, that’s just bloody brilliant,” Giles said, looking away with disgust.

“Yeah...is, innit?” Spike had replied, looking mightily pleased with himself.


One thousand one, one thousand two...when Giles reached ten, he continued.

“My dear William," Giles said with a forced smile. "I’m afraid that simply isn’t an option, since seat numbers and sections are already designated on the tickets the girls bought for me."

"Oh..."

"You will try to behave yourself, won’t you? I don't ask for my own sake, but for your safety. Footy supporters can and do sometimes get out of hand in the heat of the moment."

William stiffened. “Of course I will. You needn’t worry at all about that.”

“Well...good."

“I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful; it’s very generous of you to offer to take me to the game at all,” William said. Although he meant it, the nearer the day loomed, the more he was filled with trepidation. He simply hadn’t the fortitude to decline the invitation in the first place, especially since Giles had seemed so keen on having him accompany him.

William had thought of an out by offering his ticket to Wesley when he arrived, thus, having it appear as a good-faith gesture on his part, rather than anything else. Of course, that plan had fallen apart now that Wesley wasn’t going to be able to make it. For personal reasons, Wesley’s cancellation saddened him; it would have been nice to see a familiar face from California, even if it wasn’t the one whose face he longed to see. Furthermore, for the few hours they’d spent together William had felt at ease talking to Wesley, more so in a way, than he did talking to Giles.

Of course, the very nature of many of their talks was quite agonizing for him, considering it was all about his, or rather, Spike’s past. William was unsure these days if there was indeed any distinction worth making anymore between the two. Also, knowing his and Giles’ past history had been antagonistic, while one of the very reasons he'd sought him out; since he would be less likely to soft pad the truth, also kept him wary. Although the watcher tried not to show it, sometimes William thought he could sense an undercurrent of...dislike? Then again, he might have been projecting his own self-loathing these days.


Giles felt a stab of guilt for having just dealt with William out of the piqued feelings that thinking of Spike had brought up, rather than the issue at hand. He took a quiet, deep breath, and made a concerted effort to focus on the man in front of him.

“I didn’t mean to come on so strong, either,” Giles apologized. He hesitated, then gave William an awkward pat on the shoulder.

“You didn’t. You were well within your right to warn me.”

“This whole football thing has gotten me feeling strangely,” Giles said with a soft laugh. “Now, let’s check out, shall we?”

William nodded, putting down the Manchester shirt.

“No, I insist,” Giles said, picking it back up, “In fact, I’d like to purchase it for you.”

“That’s not necessary,” William protested, shaking his head vigorously.

“I know that; think of it as an early Christmas gift. Just don’t wear it to the game on Saturday, alright?” Giles said, with a conspiratorial wink.

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

DECEMBER 19, 2009
FRIDAY
2:00PM

There was a knot in William’s stomach that had been increasing in intensity every day. He tried to examine what exactly it was that had him so on edge, but the harder he tried, the more futile it seemed. The only reason he knew he was still having nightmares was because he’d awaken in a cold sweat, with his heart pounding, unable to go back to sleep. William was terrified that this new development must portend some other level of Spike’s...his past monstrousness; so appalling, his mind refused him access to the memories.

That wasn’t quite true. There was one thing that wouldn’t leave him alone, awake or asleep.

Three hundred and sixty-five times one hundred and twenty.
Three hundred and sixty-five times one hundred and twenty.
Bring the zero down.
Two times five equals ten.
Carry the one.
Add the one...

After another sleepless night, William left early in the morning, even before Giles had arisen. He wandered through the park, before stopping to kill some time at a coffee shop near the university. The way he’d walked had helped him avoid the shopping district, which he was consciously trying to do as much as possible these days. He kept coming back to the skillfully mild, yet deceptively pointed question Giles asked him the other evening.

As they’d driven back from their shopping excursion William became aware of Giles clearing his throat a number of times. Having lived with him for a number of weeks, he took this as a telltale sign that the older man was about to bring up something that he most likely wouldn’t want to hear. He waited for the onslaught.

“William?”

“Yes, Giles?”

“Have you...um...spoken to Buffy lately?”

William shook his head.

“The reason I ask is, as you know the holidays are fast approaching,” Giles said, clearing his throat once more before continuing, “and I was just wondering what your plans were regarding her.”

“You mean am I going to call her? I...I hadn’t thought about it,” William said stiffly.

It wasn’t true. He’d spent an inordinate amount of time trying to avoid that very thing. Therefore, he’d been thinking of it almost constantly. How could he not, after last year?

William heard Giles take a deep breath before dropping the bomb.

“I was thinking that it might be the right time to let Buffy know where you are; you know she must be quite concerned,” Giles said, pausing a moment before continuing. “I realize you’re not ready to resume your prior living arrangement with her right now, but I thought that perhaps you might invite her here for the holidays. I’ve a connection at British Airways; one of the agent’s fathers used to work for the Council. I’m sure I could count on him to get her a decent flight, despite the late date, and I think it would do you both good to not be alone over the holidays. And if I might add, I’m not convinced your nightmares constitute an actual threat, or believe you’d be driven to act on them. However, if that’s your primary concern, that’s easily remedied by merely giving Buffy her own room so that the two of you aren’t alone at night if you feel she, or you, might be vulnerable at that...”

“No!” William said, adamantly shaking his head. “I can’t! I can’t see her now!”

Giles didn’t reply right away.

“And calling her?”

“I don’t know,” William said softly, after a few moments.

“I see.”

“I’m sorry,“ William said, looking over at Giles, as they waited for the light to change, “I know I’ve put you in a difficult position, but I’d be grateful it if you didn’t let Elizabeth know I’m here. Not yet, in any case.”

“You’ve not put me in any position, William. I put myself in it when I gave you my card last April, and asked that you call on me if you needed to. Does it bother me to harbor you, as it were, without Buffy’s knowledge? Yes, but for reasons that have more to do with past errors in judgement I’ve made in regards to my relationship with Buffy, than it does with you personally. I’m just afraid she won’t understand, and think that I’ve gone behind her back again. Which I guess, in a manner, I have,” Giles said, sighing. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Buffy throughout the years, is that she wholeheartedly resents having people take decision making out of her hands under the guise of it being for her own good, or in order to protect her.”

William swallowed. “I know. Do you think I wanted to leave her? Or that it’s not killing me to be without her? Or to know she must feel that I’m doing what every other man in her life has done to her?”

Caught up in his own grief, always so near to the surface; now erupted, William didn’t notice Giles’ wince.

“I promised her that I’d never leave her...” William said, his voice anguished.

“I’d say that if anyone had extenuating circumstances surrounding them it would be you, William. I’m sure Buffy understands that...” Giles offered.


“...then...all this...all that’s happened,” William continued, as if the other man hadn’t spoken, “I just don’t feel I have anything to offer Elizabeth right now. Not what she deserves to have, and I can’t risk hurting her further, in ANY way. Please, I can’t...”

“It’s alright, William,” Giles said, patting William’s arm, afraid the younger man was on the verge of hyperventilating, “I shan’t go against your wishes.”

“Thank you,” William said, letting out a sigh of relief.

“For what it’s worth, however, I do think you’re wrong.”

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

After spending the next few hours at the Dreadnought Library, an exhausted William headed home in the early afternoon, knowing Giles would’ve already returned to the Council. A block from the house, he saw Mrs. Greeves boarding a bus. He sighed in relief, knowing he wouldn’t have to risk running into her and the silent disapproval he sometimes felt.

Upon entering, he could smell a mixture wood polish and laundry detergent, as well as what smelled of a roast still warming in the oven. Although his stomach gurgled hungrily at the aroma, he ignored it. Instead, he went upstairs hoping to manage to get a couple of hours of sleep.

Walking into his room, he immediately sensed something different. It only took him a few moments to realize that his room had been tidied and cleaned in his absence, and something else...

“No! You didn’t!” William shouted, running downstairs to the laundry room. The washing machine abruptly stopped agitating, as he threw open the lid. As he’d suspected, his sheets were in there. He dug around in the scalding water trying to find what he was looking for. Frustrated, he started pulled the out the sopping wet sheets one by one, transferring them to the nearby sink, but to no avail.

After replacing them and lowering the washer’s lid, he checked the dryer, again pulling out everything. Still not finding what he was looking for, he checked around the floor of the laundry room and behind the machines. Sure he hadn’t missed anything, he ran back up to his room, and looked under his pillows, then tore back the blankets and sheets.

“Where is it? What the hell did you do with it you meddling, old biddy?” William cursed at the departed housekeeper. Giles had asked him when he'd first arrived, if he wanted Mrs. Greeves to clean his room, and he'd told him he'd prefer to take care of it himself.


Panic was beginning to take hold of him. William felt like he was losing yet another piece of her, and with it, another piece of himself. All he seemed to have left was the looming truth of his past existence, blending into this one, and becoming one and the same.

Angrily, he pulled the sheets and blankets off the bed, fighting with them in impotent fury and tossing them into the middle of the room. Just as he was about to yank open the nightstand drawer to reassure himself that Elizabeth’s necklace and ring were still safely there, his eye caught sight of something sticking out from under the bed near the wall. Reaching under the bed, he pulled out Elizabeth’s white lace camisole. With a small sob of relief, he buried his face in it, inhaling deeply for any lingering scent. It was still there; just a bit, but still there, still her.

Emotionally and physically drained, William crawled to the pile of sheets and blankets he’d tossed off the bed, and collapsed onto them, falling almost immediately into a deep, troubled sleep.


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

DECEMBER 20, 2009
SATURDAY
BATH
7:00AM

"Willow, you didn't have to get up with me," Kennedy said, accepting the cup of coffee and toast that Willow handed her.

"I know, but I won't see you for a couple of days...but I'm probably just in your way this morning?" Willow asked, all of a sudden hesitant.

Their relationship had been under a lot of strain lately with Kennedy taking her finals, their work schedules, the upcoming separation that they once again would be experiencing over the holidays, and now this. Encouraged by Willow to go finish her degree, Kennedy had put her slaying studies on the back burner for the past couple of years. However, lately she'd begun to feel guilty about it, and had been taking it out on Willow.

"No, Willow. I only meant you could've slept in; gotten some extra rest," Kennedy said, smiling at her.

"I know, but I won't see you until tomorrow night, then you'll be leaving next Wednesday," Willow said, her eyes sad.

"I know. I wish I didn't have to go home, but my dad isn't doing well. You could've come with me."

Willow shook her head, "You know we can't afford both of us going right now."

"Nonsense, you know I could easily pay for you..."

Willow shook her head. Kennedy sighed. They'd been over this many times. What Willow didn't say, was that she knew from having overheard a conversation Kennedy had with her sister, that the family fortune wasn't nearly what it once was. Not that there was any chance of her family landing in the poor house anymore, but from what she could gather. Still...

"I'm glad you got up with me, Willow," Kennedy said, coming over and giving her a kiss.

"Have a good training session, “Willow said, as she walked Kennedy outside.

“I plan on it.”

“And tell Giles and the other slayers hello for me," Willow added, realizing that it had been a while since she'd heard from him at all. Which was...odd.

"I will."

"Drive careful!"

"Who me?" Kennedy asked innocently, before peeling out in the red convertible she'd had shipped from home.

"Yeah, you," Willow said, as she watched Kennedy drive off.

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

GREENWICH
10:00AM

The day of the game was windy and overcast. Giles, in his new Blues sweatshirt and cap paced nervously in the foyer, checking his watch every few seconds.

Giles glanced down at his watch again.

“Are you almost ready?” he called up the stairs.

“I’ll be down forthwith,” William called.

Earlier, Giles had gone upstairs to check on William when he hadn’t come down to breakfast, and was mildly alarmed when he’d found him sitting at the table, book and pen in hand, staring off into space.


“What’s the matter?” he’d asked, irritably. Of course, it was a redundant question, and one he particularly didn’t have the patience to want answers to that morning. Once again, he’d been awakened in the middle of the night by William’s infernal, nocturnal pacing. That, and Giles’ own anticipation for the coming day, kept him from returning to his already fractured sleep.

The seconds ticked by.

“Nothing,” William finally answered, during which time Giles was almost sure that he didn’t even realize he was standing there.

“Apparently! Then why aren’t you dressed?” Giles snapped.

“Dressed? I...” William said, then he saw Giles in his Chelsea sweatshirt and cap.

“Yes, for the game," Giles said, exasperated. "You must hurry, if we’re to be there for the start of the game. It’s going to take us a God-awful long time to get there with all the holiday traffic, not to mention the traffic near the stadium.


Giles let out a sigh of relief, as he saw William coming down the stairs, with his daypack. In deference to Giles, he was sporting the Chelsea hat that he’d also purchased for him. Unbeknownst to him, William was also wearing the ‘verboten’ Manchester United shirt underneath his light blue pullover.

As they made their way through traffic, Giles was unusually chatty as he tried to further educate William as to players on each team, the current season’s statistics, and other things he thought would make the game more meaningful to him.

Statistics, numbers, dates, and more numbers...


Three hundred and sixty-five times twenty.


“By chance, did you remember to bring along the players and statistics sheets?”
Giles asked, referring to the mere tip of the encyclopedic iceberg of papers he’d printed off and given to him a few days before.

Bring the zero down.

William nodded, dutifully pulling them out of his jacket pocket to show Giles.

“Good chap!” Giles responded, pleased.

“Did I mention it’s been a good twenty years since I’ve been to a game?”

“Maybe once or twice,” William answered.


Two times five equals ten.


“Ah, yes...so I have,” Giles said, with a grin.

An hour before the game started, Giles parked in front of the home of an old family friend, half a mile from the stadium. After the quick, but requisite small talk and expressions of gratitude with said family friend, they then proceeded to walk to their destination.

William could feel the air around him alive with anticipation the nearer they got to Stamford Bridge. For the supporters, it was excitement; for him it was cold dread. It felt like he was being invisibly drawn to this stadium -- for what purpose he didn’t know; only that the feeling had grown stronger as the day neared. Now it was upon him, and he could only go along.

“I remember it, you know,” William said.

“Remember what?”

“When they were building the stadium; it was in all the papers near weekly. I seem to recall there were quite a few debates regarding it.”

“Do you happen to remember what they were about?”

“I think it may have been about them using the excavated material from the underground in order to provide high terracing on one end of the stadium.”

“I read about that on Chelsea’s website. Personally, I thought that was a capital plan. The stadium got terraced seating, and London had a nearby, convenient place to rid itself of tons of material. What was the debate?”

“Something to do with the possibility of the material being contaminated. I believe that was the gist of it.”

“Ah...that’s a different story then,” Giles said. “Tell me, did you ever attend a game after the stadium opened?“

William shook his head.

“I’m afraid sports just never held much interest for me. However, there were a lot of events going on around Chelsea in honor of the opening. There were musical performances and speeches, a fair; that sort of thing. I did attend some of those. I took my mother to see an orchestra perform near here one evening,” William said quietly. “It was before...before she became ill.”

“I’m sure your mother must have enjoyed that very much,” Giles said gently.

William only nodded his head.

Giles waited a respectable amount of time before continuing.

“If memory serves, Stamford Bridge opened in 1877, making you how old then? Twenty-three? Twenty-four?”

“Twenty-five,” William answered softly. Which would now make him...

Two thousand and nine take away eighteen fifty-two
Two zero zero nine take away one eight five two

“You alright?” Giles asked, seeing William shudder.

“I’m fine; wind just gave me a bit of a chill is all,” William said, a bit too quickly.

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

Council Headquarters
11:30AM

Kennedy quietly slipped into the training room, taking a seat near the back of the room next to some of the other slayers.

“Kennedy, you made it!” Vi squealed, giving the long-absent slayer a hug.

The instructor, whom had been going over new protocols, cleared her throat as she looked towards the back of the room.

“You’re late!”

“I know, I got stuck in traffic on the Hammersmith flyover. “

“Yes, that’s near the Chelsea stadium, so I imagine it would be quite busy this morning,” the instructor said with a sigh. “Still, it’s up to you to anticipate such matters. Had you checked the traffic website or the radio stations, I’m sure you would’ve been given alternative ways to go.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Kennedy said, looking down.

“Giles and William went to the game today,” Vi whispered to her.

“Who?” Kennedy asked.

“Girls!” the instructor said, exasperated.

“Tell you at lunch,” Vi mouthed silently.

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

At lunch the girls gathered around Kennedy and the others who they hadn't seen in a while to exchange greetings and gossip.

"So Giles went to a game, huh? Can't say that I'd imagine him doing something so...normal," Kennedy said, her mouth full of chicken.

"We didn't think so either. That's why we gave him the tickets for his Christmas present. He never seems to have any fun. Plus, now that William is staying with him, he's under more stress..."

"You started to tell me that in class. Who's William?"

"You don't know, do you? We weren't supposed to tell anyone," Vi said, conspiratorially.

Kennedy put down her fork. "Weren't supposed to tell anyone what?"

"About William. It's Spike! Or rather, he was Spike. It's...he's human now and he's here staying with Giles. I think he was staying with Buffy before, but we're not supposed to ask him, but from a few things he said that's what I'm guessing," Vi rambled on.

"I know."

"You knew? Oh, because of Willow?"

"Yeah, I knew about Spike becoming human, but not that he was here," Kennedy said, not going into all the details she knew from last summer. "I've got to tell Willow. I know Buffy has been worried about him."

Vi didn't say anything for a minute. Giles would probably be angry with her for telling, but the last time she'd seen William, it had disturbed her. He'd had dark circles underneath his eyes, his clothes seemed to be hanging loosely on his frame, and he looked...haunted was the word that popped into her mind.

"I think that would be a very good idea," Vi said, looking into Kennedy's eyes.

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

STAMFORD BRIDGE
11:30AM

William’s eyes grew large, and as they walked through the gates and he got his first glimpse of the massive blue and white seated stadium. With trepidation, he followed Giles through the miles of aisles until they reached their seats in The West; the largest of the four seating stands.

With some time to spare before the game, Giles excused himself to go to the food stalls; first making sure his guest didn’t mind being left alone for a while. William sat looking down at his program, and the team information Giles had him bring, unable to bring himself to look around him.

“So, who you think will be the Manscum startin’ goalie since Van der Saar’s out?” asked a man next to him.

“What?” William asked, startled, and not understanding any of what had been asked.

“It’ll be Howard. You mark my words,” answered a man in front of him.

“Figures.”

“Yeah. Manchester Bloody Yankees,” the man spat.


Giles returned, handing William a sandwich and a beer.

"I forgot how bloody expensive food is to buy here. And the cost of beer..." he said, as he took his seat.

"I'm sorry. What do I owe you?" William asked, trying to reach his wallet, while balancing his food.

"Not a thing. Grumbling about prices is just part of the experience," Giles said, with a wry grin.

Moments later the crowd started chanting, as the players came onto the field.

“Chelsea! Chelsea! Chelsea!”

And a few rows away, a whole section started to croon:

Stamford Bridge I do love you
You're the one ground for me
When I come, I come to see
A team called Che-el-sea
I would grow much weaker
Weather would be bleaker
If I spent a week a-
Way from Stamford Bridge

The players themselves seemed to take it all in stride, as they went about doing some stretches, before getting into position, as they waited for the referee to start the match.

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

12:00 NOON
BATH

“Hey, how’s it going?” Willow answered the phone, seeing Kennedy’s number.

“Fine. I was a bit late because of traffic, but they dealt. Listen, I’ve only got a few minutes before training classes begin again, and I’ve got something really big to tell you.”

“What is it?” Willow asked, all ears now.

“You aren’t going to believe this, but Spike is here!”

“Spike? You mean William? Buffy’s William? I mean, he’s not Spike again, is he?”

“Yeah, I mean William. No, he’s not a vampire again.”

“He’s there? Now? Today?”

“No, not today. He’s been staying with Giles for a while now. Actually, they’re off seeing a football match today.”

“But...but...”

“Unbelievable, isn’t it? Look, I’ve got to go, but I thought I’d give you the heads up on Buffy’s wayward significant other.”

“Okay. Wow...thanks,” Willow said, dumbfounded.

“Love ya,” Kennedy said.

“You too, sweetie,” Willow said, as she clicked off the connection.

Wow.

Buffy wasn’t going to believe this one!

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

12:30PM
STAMFORD BRIDGE

At a breakneck pace, the two teams vied for control of the ball, but Chelsea dominated the field. Suddenly, the crowd was on their feet, screaming at the referee. Manchester United had their first goal.

“He took a dive”

“Dirty player!”

“ Chopped poor Geremi's feet out and still got the free kick”

“Bloody Shrek!”

“What happened?” William asked. He was trying to keep up with the game, and hadn't noticed anything amiss.

“Looks like Rooney kicked No. 14’s ankles out from under him. Guess the linesman didn’t see it that way,” Giles said, disgusted.

Five minutes later, Chelsea’s midfielder Wright-Philips evened the score when he made a goal. Some of the rowdier crowd up above cheered ecstatically:

Fuck 'em all, Fuck 'em all,
United, West Ham, Liverpool
'Cause we are the Chelsea and we are the best,
We are the Chelsea, so fuck all the rest...

But for William, his own internal chant was becoming louder and louder.

Three hundred and sixty-five times one hundred and twenty.
Bring the zero down.

Two times five equals ten.
Bring the zero down.
Carry the one.

Two times six equals twelve
Plus one is thirteen.
Bring the three down.
Carry the one...

Two times three equals six.
Add the one.
Plus one is seven.


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

1:00PM
BATH

After her initial instinct to call Buffy right away, Willow decided she needed to meditate on what she’d found out from Kennedy. Although Buffy knew she had a carte blanche offer for her to do a locating spell, she hadn't asked. From what she could tell from their conversations, Buffy was trying to give William the space he needed to work out his issues; his personal demons, as it were.

Still, the last time she’d talked to her, Buffy had seemed so sad; resigned really to the possibility the William wouldn’t be coming back to her at all.

Then, to further complicate matters, was the sticky issue of her knowing about the Shanshu prophecy's two-year clause. If she interfered without being asked, would it adversely affect the outcome? On the other hand, did it make a difference if she came by information, that as any other friend, she would've conveyed? Her brain was beginning to hurt.

She flipped open her cell phone, and held down the #2 key, until she saw the icon letting her know it was ringing on the other end.

“Hello?”

“Althanea? I have something important to ask you.”

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

1:30PM
STAMFORD BRIDGE

Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle All the Way
Oh what fun it is to see ManU lose away

The game was well into the second half, the score 3-2, with Chelsea ahead. Manchester United had led during the entire first half. Caught up in the game, William had nearly whooped in glee for Manchester once; had it not been for Giles quickly pounding him on the back, as if he’d been choking instead. From the suspicious looks of the people nearby, William supposed they’d much prefer him choking, than to cheer for the opposing team.

The rowdy crowd around William and Giles seemed to have opinions on everything.

“Good thing that Mourinho decided to stay on. The Blues are havin’ their best year since ’05.”

“Yeah, bet Manscum wished Fergie was still their manager!”

Another cheer went up, as the Blues once again thwarted what had looked to be a sure goal by the Red Devils.

Chelsea boys we are here
Wo ho, wo ho
Chelsea boys we are here
Shag your women and drink your beer
Wo ho, wo ho wo

Giles, caught up in the game and talking with the other men around him, didn’t notice when William’s breath suddenly hitched in his throat.

Three hundred and sixty-five times one hundred and twenty.
Bring the zero down.

Two times five equals ten.
Bring the zero down.
Carry the one.

Two times six equals twelve
Plus one is thirteen.
Bring the three down.
Carry the one...

Giles was cheering for his beloved Chelsea, when William’s fingers counted out the numbers, in tune with his mind.

Two times three equals six.
Add the one.
Plus one is seven.

One times five equals five.
Five plus three equals eight.

And Giles didn’t know when William finally, inevitably, reached the end.

One times six equals six.
Seven plus six equals thirteen.
Bring the three down.
Carry the one.

One times three equals three.
Plus one, equals four.

Four, three, eight, zero, zero.
Four, three, eight, zero, zero.

43,800

Hands shaking, William pulled the papers he’d brought out of his pocket, turning to the stadium information page. What he was looking for was near the bottom.

The current stadium capacity stands at 42,522.

Hands shaking, William slowly put the papers back in his pocket, and rose.

“Excuse me,” he intoned emotionlessly.

“Are you going to the concessions, by chance?” Giles asked.

William shook his head.

“Oh. Alright then,” Giles said, slightly peeved that he hadn’t at least offered to stop off, since he was going to be in the vicinity.

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

With tunnel vision, William made his way up through the stands until he reached the upper deck areas leading to the food stalls and the loos. He turned and stared out at the thousands of people in the stands - men, women, children, babies, young, old, and middle-aged. Numb, he turned and walked out of Stamford Bridge.

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

Fifteen minutes later, Giles had a passing thought that William should’ve been back by then, but attributed his absence to the thought that perhaps he had gone to the food stalls after all. When twenty minutes had passed, he began to be concerned, and tried William’s cell phone. There was no answer. Internally, Giles fought the desire to stay until the end of the game, only minutes away, versus what he felt was his duty to find out what had happened to William.

“Bugger all!” Giles said, standing up. The game was now a lost cause to him; his mind refused to block out what might have befallen the former vampire.

“Should’ve gone to the game by myself,” he mumbled, as he excused his way down the aisle.

“Hey! You don’t want to leave now! Game’s almost over!” Called the man who’d been sitting in back of him.

“Can’t be helped,” Giles said with a sigh.

A search of all the nearby concession areas and loos turned up nothing. Giles stopped and watched the last few passes of the game. Chelsea had won by 4-2, but Giles had missed seeing the final goal.

Giles left the stadium, half-expecting to see William waiting for him outside the gates, but he wasn’t. He hoped that he would at least have the good sense to meet him at the car.

William wasn’t there either. The people whose house he’d parked at came out and talked to him. They assured him they hadn’t seen William come back yet. Reluctantly, he accepted their offer for some tea while he waited.

An hour later, he thanked his hosts for the tea.

“Looks like your friend must’ve found another way home,” the man said.

“Yes, I’m sure he must have by now,” Giles replied, but the little voice in his head wasn’t at all sure.

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

END CHAPTER 184
CHAPTER 185 - WITH A WHISPER, RATHER THAN A BANG

DECEMBER 20, 2009
SATURDAY
LOS ANGELES
6:00AM

Last night, determination had seemed easy after talking to Dawn, even if she didn't have a concrete plan. Today, however was another matter.

After awaking in the middle of the night, with more questions than answers, Buffy wrote a short note for Dawn and John, and left. She decided at the last minute to head up the coast, instead of taking the most direct route, giving her more time to think.

Her mind couldn't help but reminisce about the first time she and William had gone this way; finally heading home to Julian after the long drive cross-country.

The sky was just beginning to turn from black to a light gray, as she neared San Juan Capistrano. Pulling the car over, she turned it off. Grabbing the coffee travel cup she'd snatched from Dawn's, Buffy walked down the sand to the water's edge.

The memories were bittersweet, as she recalled the times they had been here before. The first time, to show William the ocean, before continuing on to Julian and their new life together. The second time, it had been a celebration, as they'd announced their engagement to Dawn and John. Absently, Buffy stroked the finger where the ring once was.

Standing there where they’d shared kisses and hopes together, she recalled how she’d finally trusted him. No, strike that; she’d finally trusted herself enough to be fully committed to him, and to the next level of their relationship. At that point, she believed that even if she told William the truth, he was so happy with her; they were so happy, that he’d be able to deal. They would deal with it together. Except, she hadn’t told him, and she never saw the storm coming directly at them, until it was too late.

One thing that she’d always been able to count on, as surely as the sun would rise, or that another vampire would - depending on your worldview - was that Spike, and William, the man he’d been inside, would never give up on her. He hadn’t given up back in Sunnydale, even when she’d given him no reason to believe that they would ever have a future. And then, when he’d almost done the unthinkable; although for a demon it shouldn’t have been, he’d gone to the ends of the earth to change his very being.

For her.

The way Buffy figured it she had two options. One, she could accept that after all that had happened between them, it was too much to sustain a relationship, no matter if William came to terms with his past or not. Or two, she could fight for him.

For them.

Feeling better than she had in a while, Buffy turned and headed back to the car. Giving the bell tower of San Juan Capistrano a final glance, she pulled out onto the highway towards home, and what she hoped to be, a way back to William.

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

When Buffy finally found out where William was, it wasn’t by shaking down people or demons, (okay, a little perhaps) or by a locator spell. Rather, it was in the most mundane of ways. With a whisper, rather than a bang.

The first stop she made was at Clem's, deciding that she would shake him down (nicely, mind you) to see if he knew anything. Buffy couldn't help feel that William might have inadvertently told him something, or given him a clue that last night when they'd been outside together.

Unfortunately, Clem wasn't home, and when she called his cell phone, all she got was his voice mail. She left a message for him to call her.

The phone rang just as she was walking into her house. She quickly answered, thinking it was Clem calling her back.

“Hello. This is a courtesy call from Verizon Wireless, letting you know you have a new bill. Now you can pay it three ways: by check, by phone, or visit us on line at www.verizonwireless...”

“Great, just what I needed,” Buffy said, flipping the phone shut.

After putting her things away, including tossing the dress she’d worn last night for her ‘date with Riley’ into the trash, she made herself some tea, and brought it over to her desk.

She wanted to email Willow to let her know that she might just might, need her to do a locator spell if all other avenues failed.

As usual, Buffy checked her email first, hoping against hope, that William would’ve sent any news. He hadn’t. Reminding her of her phone call, however, was the link to her phone bill.

“Okay, okay,” she mumbled as she logged on.

Buffy was just about to click the Pay Now button as usual, when she glanced up at the two phone numbers. Slowly, she moved the mouse over to the link to William’s, and clicked.

The bill she was paying now, was from Mid-October, through Mid-November. Some phone numbers she recognized, such as Lawrence and Professor Wittman’s. There were also a number she didn’t recognize, which had been called later. She picked up her cell phone, and dialed one in particular that turned up more than a few times. After at least half a dozen rings, it was finally answered.

“We’re closed right now,” answered an irate female voice.

“Who is this?” Buffy asked, with a sneaking suspicion.

“Sounds like you have the wrong number, if you don’t know who you’re calling.”

“Wait! Miranda?” Buffy said, before the line went dead, “Is Wi...Spike there?”

There was a pause. “Elizabeth?”

“Yes, it’s Elizabeth,” Buffy said. “Is he there?”

“No, he’s not. I haven’t seen Spike for over a month. Not since he left me a note telling me he was quitting. I thought he was going back home to you. He didn’t, huh?” Miranda asked, her voice softening.

Buffy bristled; she didn’t want this woman’s sympathy, didn’t want to like her, but she couldn’t help her eyes from tearing up.

“I...I saw him for a couple of days, then he took off again. I just wondered if you’d seen him after that.”

“Uh-uh, that was the last I’ve seen or heard from him.”

“The note didn’t happen to say where he was planning on going, did it?” Buffy asked, grasping at straws.

“Nah, just a generic Dear Jane letter, telling me thanks, blah-blah, but got to go and find myself, yadda-yadda.”

Buffy didn’t say anything.

“Elizabeth?”

“I’m here,” Buffy said, curtly.

“I didn’t mean that I was his Dear Jane, ya know? I never was, if that’s what you’re thinking. I was interested, he wasn’t; he still loved you. I got over it. Satisfied?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Spike is a great guy and quite the hottie, even if he is a mess, but then that always seems to be the way with great, hot guys. They just have to be all deep and mysterious; like they’re carrying the whole weight of the world on their shoulders, right?”

“I guess,” Buffy said, lightly.

“Anyway, I wish I could be of more help.”

“It’s alright, it was a long shot.”

“Good luck, Elizabeth. I hope things work out for you two. I really do.”

“I know; me, too. Thanks, Miranda.”

Buffy called the other numbers, but they were also dead ends. It was the last number at the end of the bill that gave her pause. For one thing, it had one too many numbers: ten instead of nine. Still, it looked vaguely familiar and...English? Her eyes confirmed what her brain was just gripping. She was looking at Giles’ phone number, but on William’s bill.

The time period had been while she was sick, wasn’t it? She flipped the calendar back a page to November, and the date of the first call he’d made. It had been the day he’d come over. Perhaps William had thought to call Giles and let him know that she’d been ill. Then again, there were also calls to William right around then, too. Okay, again, perhaps Giles was calling to find out how she was; but if that was the case, why didn’t he call her himself, either during or afterwards? In fact, come to think of it, she hadn’t heard anything from him for a while. Of course, it had been years since they’d been in the habit of speaking regularly; but after what had happened to William, it seemed Giles had called her at least once a week, if only to let her do some ranting.

Hmm...

That left one last incoming phone call on the bill, which she called.

“You have reached the voice mail of Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. Please leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you.”

Buffy stared at the phone in her hand.

“What the fu..?”

The message prompt beeped. Buffy cleared her throat. Oh, she had a whole lot of things she’d just love to say to both Wesley and Giles, if her hunches were proven correct. However, she settled on a firm, but vague message.

“Wesley, this is Buffy. Call me when you get this message; as soon as you get this message.”

She was still pondering the phone calls when she heard Clem pull up in front of the house. Buffy got up and went out to the porch.

“Howdy, neighbor!” Clem said, as he walked up the steps, giving her a quick hug, and peck on the cheek.

“Hey, Clem.”

“I got your message just as I was on my way home. What’s up?”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you,” Buffy said, as mild as she could, as she led the way into the living room. She pointed to the computer screen.

“What am I looking at?”

“William’s phone calls from last month.”

Clem looked at them, then at her, questioningly.

“These calls here, they’re to and from England. Giles, actually. Did William mention anything about him to you?”

Clem shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, as he nervously looked down at the floor.

“Clem! You do know something don’t you?”

“I promised I wouldn’t...”

“Look at me Clem. I know he’s your friend...”

“My best friend.”

“Your best friend,” Buffy echoed. “That’s why I never asked you anything before; I didn’t want to know if you did or didn’t know anything and have to put you in this position to either lie to me or feel like you’re betraying a confidence.”

Clem winced. “I told him that I didn’t like the idea of keeping secrets from you, Buffy, but he made me promise,” Clem said, his wrinkly skin quivering in agitation.

“I understand,” Buffy said, sympathetically. “I’m also sure William wasn’t happy to have to put you in that position either. He just needed someone to talk to that night, right?”

Clem nodded vigorously.

“I know William has things to work out on his own, and I’ve tried to be patient. Really, I have. It’s just that I’ve got a very strong feeling that he really needs me right now, and I need to go to him.”

“What kind of strong feeling?” Clem asked, worry lines furrowing his brow.

“Not exactly a feeling; it's more like a slayer sense; like when I knew he was alive and needed me, right before I found him in Chicago. All I know is that this sense isn't going to be satisfied, until I see him and find out what’s going on for myself. That’s why I’m asking you to break the promise you made to him.”

Clem slowly nodded, “Alright, Buffy. I’ll tell you.”

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

An hour later, Buffy stood outside next to Clem after walking him to his car.

“So, when will you leave?” Clem asked.

“As soon as I can find a flight. Not sure that’s going to be easy right before the holidays, but I’ll fly cargo if I have to. It’s either that or I supposed I could ask Willow to zap me over, but I really don’t want to do that. Sort of feels like an icky hangover,” Buffy said, with a wry grin.

Clem nodded vigorously in agreement.

“What about you? What will you do for the holidays?” Buffy asked, suddenly feeling guilty. It would be the first time that she wouldn’t be seeing Clem at Christmastime since she’d moved up to the house.

“Oh, don’t you worry about me. I’ll be at Edna’s for Christmas Eve, and on Christmas Day I’ll be going over to my cousin Marlong’s in San Diego. I’ll be fine, Buffy,” Clem said, giving her a reassuring pat on the arm.

“I’ll miss you,” Buffy said, giving him a hard hug.

“I’ll...can’t breath,” Clem gasped, “miss you, too,”

“Sorry, about that,” Buffy said, quickly releasing her hold on him. “I forget I’m still slayer strong, sometimes.”

“That’s okay, Buffy. I forget I’m a demon sometimes,” Clem said.

“I do, too,” Buffy said, smiling. “I just wanted to say, I’ll try not to let William know that you told me. After all, I would’ve probably just called Giles, or gone and beaten up Wesley and found out anyway.”

“That’s okay, Buffy. If you have to, I’ll deal. Just give William my best when you see him, okay? Tell him...” Clem just shook his head, embarrassed.

“I’ll tell him, Clem.”

Buffy waved to him as he drove off then turned to go back into the house. She had a flight to book, and an overseas call to make.

END CHAPTER 185

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