ONE NORMAL LIFE / TWO EXTRAORDINARY LIVES
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BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
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Adult ++
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210
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Category:
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
210
Views:
11,869
Reviews:
182
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
UN-HAPPY BIRTHDAY
CHAPTER 151 – UN-HAPPY BIRTHDAY
JULIAN
AUGUST 15, 2009
8:00AM
Buffy rolled over in her sleep, unconsciously reaching out to what was now the empty half of their bed. She opened her eyes to see her hand fingering the spot where William should be.
Not hearing his snore, she got up to look for him. She found him sitting on the back porch, a cup of tea in his hands.
"Morning," she said.
"Morning."
"You been up long?"
"About 20 minutes.”
"How's your hand?"
"Throbbing a bit, but not too bad."
"Well, you can take another anti-inflammatory after you eat something, okay?"
"Not really hungry."
"You still have to eat something.”
Buffy went back into the kitchen and started some coffee for herself, then using bagels, made eggs in a hole for them.
"Breakfast," she called, as she poured orange juice.
A few minutes later, William came in and took his seat.
"Coffee?"
"I have tea.”
“I think it may have gotten cold by now,” Buffy said, looking at the still full cup he was holding.
William shrugged, “Alright.”
Buffy took his lukewarm tea away, replacing it with a hot cup of coffee.
They ate in silence, punctuated only by the birds singing outside.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
r brr breakfast, William had once more gone out to the porch. A few moments later, she heard a curt, “Be outside,” followed by the door opening and closing.
Buffy hurriedly cleaned up the kitchen, then followed him. She found him sitting on a lounger, staring straight ahead. At least until he noticed she was there, then he closed his eyes.
“Hey,” she said, as she sat down next to him.
He nodded his head slightly, to acknowledge her presence.
She was painfully aware that today was William’s birthday. What good (or harm) it would do to bring it up, she didn’t know. To say ‘Happy Birthday,’ under the circumstances, would almost be to mock the reality he now found himself in; they found themselves in.
She tried to remember how wonderful last year had been. Not quite two months since she’d first seen him, and a little more than a month since they’d been back home together, she’d taken him for the day to San Juan Capistrano. Clem and Dawn had been waiting for them back at the house, with decorations, presents, and a cake. William had almost been overwhelmed; saying nobody had ever done that for him before.
Not this year, this year there would be no surprise day trips, no cake, no decorations, no presents, no joy; no celebration of any kind.
She swallowed hard, she wouldn’t cry again. Not now, not today, not if she could help it.
Just get through the next hour, the next minute. Don’t think about last year or next year. Just get through the next moment.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They sat there in silence until a broom, which had been leaning against the house, fell over. William startled at the sound, his eyes flying open, and his body coming halfway out of his seat.
“It’s was just the wind,” Buffy said, touching his arm to reassure him.
He pulled away from her. “I thought it was...never mind.”
“I don’t think Clem is going to be around for a while,” Buffy said, “he went to see some...friends of his in San Diego for a few days.”
“Do his other friends know that he’s...or are they...? What the hell is he?” William asked, facing Buffy.
Buffy took a deep breath, “Clem is a demon, but he’s a good demon. And yes, some of his friends are demons, too.”
“A good demon? Isn’t that an oxymoron? Like a good vampire?”
Buffy got up off her chair, and faced him. “You listen to me, William Worthington, Clem is a good demon. And yes, Spike became a good vampire. What’s more important, is that Spike returned to being a good man, the man he was inside; you.”
William ran his uninjured hand through his hair, as he shook his head, pacing in front of her. “I can’t buy that! The very term demon means something of the devil, does it not? Something ungodly?”
“I don’t care what the term means. Man made up that term for things he couldn’t understand, creatures he couldn’t fathom...”
“And here I thought it was God that gave names to unholy things that were from hell,” he said, glaring at her.
“Oh William,” Buffy said, sighing, “it’s not that simple.”
“Simple?” he repeated, pacing to the house and back, “Are you telling me you don’t believe in God or the Devil? Heaven or Hell?” he asked, not sure at this point himself, but goading her none-the-less.
“I don’t know. God...I think so; Heaven – been there, done that, so I know that’s real. Didn’t meet God, though, so can’t say for sure.”
He stopped pacing to stare at her, shocked, “You were in...Heaven?”
“I think so...when I died, before Willow, Xander, Anya, and Tara did the spell that brought me back. It felt...warm and safe, like I was finished...” she looked at him and he was staring at her, his eyes moist and wide.
Buffy struggled to get a hold of her own emotions. “Well, I guess I wasn’t quite finished, because here I am, right? As for Hell or the Devil...it just seems too simple; there are many demons, some good, and a lot, lot more that aren’t. There’s not just a Hell, but many different hell dimensions. Having been The Slayer for all those years, I’ve had a lot of experience in those areas, so I think you can trust me on this one, William.”
He reached out for the patio table to steady himself, “How can I believe what you’re telling me; that there are good demons? That Clem...is one?”
“Because I wouldn’t lie to you, that’s why.”
William looked at her, and snorted, “No?”
Her face flamed and she swallowed back the sting of his remark. “Not about this, and that’s not what I...you know I didn’t lie to you to hurt you. You’ve got to know that! I just wanted to...protect you from this very thing; the things that are so hard to understand.”
“And because I was one of those things?”
She looked him in the eye, “Yes, once. Not for a long, long time, though William.”
He didn’t answer her, as they stood looking at each other. Finally, he looked away.
“There are good and bad people in the world, aren’t there?” Buffy asked.
He nodded.
“Well, I think it’s the same with demons.”
“It can’t be that simple! It can’t!”
“It’s not, I don’t mean to tell you that it is; it’s not simple at all. And I think it’s much harder to be a good demon, because demons don’t have souls. At least, I don’t think they do. Maybe some do, or something like it; something that lets some of them be good. All I know is that it’s not as black and white as I once thought; there’s a lot of gray. There was you, who changed, there’s Clem, who you’ve known for almost 70 years...”
“Seventy years?” William asked, shaking his head. It was incongruous to him every time he tried to put a number to such things: one hundred twenty years, seventy years, fifty years...
“How did I...we become... friends?” William asked, afraid to hear the answer.
“He was human once, and you saved him.”
“Saved him? From what?” William asked, looking surprised, “I thought I was supposed to ‘eat’ humans.”
“I don’t know why you chose to save him, only that you did. He was being attacked by demons – his kind of demons, and for some reason, you fought them off. Guess you just told him to get out of there afterwards.”
“Where?”
“San Francisco, I think you told me. Anyway, because Clem had already been bitten, he started turning into a demon.”
“Demons can ‘turn’ humans into other demons?”
“Not all, just a few can. Anyway, after Clem changed, he ran into you on the wharves. He said he was a mess, scared by what was happening to him. At first, you tried to kill him,” she said, then looked over guiltily at him, “because he looked like the other demons by then. After he told you who he was, you gave him some advice, and since he didn’t have any other friends, he sort of followed you up here. He helped you build this house, and his.”
“The house...why did I want to build a house? And here? Do vampires usually build...? Oh God!” William said, suddenly reeling towards the back door.
Buffy ran after him, “What is it? What’s wrong?”
William was at the kitchen sink, trying to turn on the water. He managed, just as she was reaching to help. Buffy grabbed a glass and held or hor him. He took a long drink.
“The land this house is built on, it belonged to Henry, my brother, didn’t it?”
Her eyes widened in understanding, “Yes,” she said softly.
Buffy took a deep breath before continuing, “After you...killed him, you said that you’d taken his valuables, but didn’t give much consideration to anything, except what you could use right away.”
“diatdiate gratification, I suppose,” William said.
Buffy nodded, “Part and parcel of being a vampire.”
“So, what happened?”
“Then you got curious about the acres of land your brother bought that you now held the deed for. I think you said, that around the turn of the century you found a vampire who had once been a lawyer; he helped get the deed put into your name. After you, along with Drusilla, Angel, and Darla came to the states and eventually California, you decided to come up to Julian to look around.”
“Angel? Isn’t that’s who Drusilla...? The one who wanted me killed?” William asked, a mixture of fear and anger in his voice.
Buffy nodded slowly, “Yes, that’s the one.”
“Who is he? To me...to Spike, that is?”
“Angelus, as Angel went by in those days, was sired by Darla. He sired Drusilla, who then sired you. That makes him, rather made him, your grand sire.” Buffy said, carefully assessing his reaction, as this latest information sank in.
“In 1880?”
“No, Darla was sired by the Master back in the 1600’s, Angel was sired by Darla in the 1700’s, Dru was sired by Angel...I’m not sure when, early 1800’s maybe. William, why don’t we leave that for later, while I tell you more about the house.”
He looked at her, and nodded, “Yeah. Alright. So, I came up here with the little vampire family...”
“No, you came by yourself. The other three were busy ingratiating themselves into the Hollywood scene, when you came up here. You had about 1000 acres that had never been mined for gold, so you sold off about 900 of them to turn them into cash, but you told me that you felt something for the land here, and kept 100 acres for yourself.”
“So then I decided to build a house?”
“Not right away. I think you just liked to have somewhere to come to, without the others; something of your own. At first, you just found a cave to stay in. I don’t think you had any intentions of building a house.”
“Just a place to stay out of the sun during the day?”
“Something like that.”
“Do vampires sleep in coffins?” he asked with a shudder.
Buffy shook her head, remembering how frightened he’d been in the hospital when they’d had to crawl into the morgue cart to make their escape. “No, vampires can live anywhere, in any manner. As long as they stay out of the sun, which is a good reason to sleep during the day, makes avoiding getting all toasty a lot easier. As for where vampires live, or how – you name it, they can manage it, it seems. From squalor to grandeur, caves to castles. I got the impression that the four of you lived in quite lovely houses, after you’d...” Buffy stopped suddenly, realizing what she was about to say.
“Killed the people who lived there?” William finished for her, flinching from his own words.
She nodded, “Yes. I’m sorry.”
“Why? You didn’t kill them, I did, right?” William said harshly.
“No, I didn’t. But I’m still sorry I have to be telling you things you’d rather not hear William; things that I wish with all my heart, I never had to tell you.”
They stood staring at each other for a minute. Although they were only a couple of feet from each other, the gulf had never seemed so wide. Buffy bit down on her lip to stop herself from reaching out across the divide to him; sure his rigid figure wouldn’t accept her embrace, or her comfort.
“Go on,” he said.
“You sure?”
“Go on,” he repeated.
Buffy nodded, “So, one of the times you’re up here you went into town that night. You said that you heard a fight and for some reason, went to investigate. It was Edna’s husband Wallace, being attacked by an irate customer who had been kicked out earlier for being fresh with Edna. You intervened, kicked the guy’s ass, and saved Wallace.”
“William sat down on the couch, his head in his hands, “Edna...she knows?”
“No, she doesn’t. Not really.”
“But I’ve known her all those years...she thinks I was my father and grandfather? That’s why she was always talking about them, and that’s why it didn’t make a lick of sense to me! Because my grandfather was never in American, nor was my father. I knew it!” he said, almost smiling.
“Yes, that’s how you were able to have a relationship wher her over the years, by disappearing for years at a time, then letting her know somehow that one of them had passed, waiting a few more years, or twenty...however many, before the next ‘William’ would show up. William the son, then you – son of the son,” she said, with a small unintentional laugh.
William shot a glance her way, and Buffy shrugged apologetically.
He looked at her, waiting for her to continue, so she did. “For some reason, you responded to them in a way you hadn’t responded to humans since being turned. Lawrence knew you by name, that you owned the land; through his friend, the investor, who had first told him and Edna about Julian. He asked you where you were staying and you told him that you were pitching a tent while you were up there. He suggested you build yourselhoushouse on some of the property that you own, and gave you the names of contractors, telling you that he’d help you. For some reason, it appealed to you – to have a place of your own.”
“A place of my own,” William repeated, nodding.
“So with Lawrence’s help, he sets up the contractors and the house starts getting built. You have given him the discretion to use the money for this, and you head back to join the gang.”
“I thought you said Clem helped build the house,” he asked, a confused look on his face.
“He did. I’m getting to that. You don’t get back here for a couple of years. When you do, you realize that nothing has been done on the house, past what had been started while you were still here. You’re furious thinking that Lawrence has stolen or squandered your money. You go off to find him, but find that restaurant is boarded up, and the hotel they owned next door to it, has a foreclosure sign in front of it. You bang on the door, and a bedraggled woman, holding a small child answers it. You demand to know what’s happened to Lawrence and Edna, then realize that the woman standing there is Edna.”
William nodded, “I know the rest of the story; Edna told me it last winter when I was helping her at the restaurant, before Valentine’s Day,” he said, then looked guiltily over at Buffy.
“I remember,” she replied softly looking at him, then down at the ring she wore. “It was so,” she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, “perfect.”
“Dont!” he said, his voice sounding harsh in the quiet of the room. Her cheeks reddened at his reprimand. He watched, as if in slow motion, a lone tear rolled down Elizabeth’s face, hung silently, then dropped to the floor. William swallowed hard, ashamed that he’d hurt her. His heart ached to take her in his arms, and make it all go away; her pain and his, but his head overruled, and he remained frozen to his spot.
Still, he wasn’t a monster; “Elizabeth, I’m...”
She shook her head, “Don’t,” she said, repeating his word. She swiped angrily at her eyes, as she willed herself to stay in the now as they weathered this new reality.
“You know about Lawrence being killed?” she asked, finally.
“Yes, and how my grandfa...I helped Edna afterwards...after Lawrence had been killed by someone staying at their hotel,” he said shaking his head sadly. “All that time, she hadn’t spent my money, even when she didn’t know if I was ever coming back or not, because she just couldn’t do that.”
“Not just someone, but a certain someone who wanted to leave you a message.”
“Leave me a message? Why? Who?” William asked, his voice filled with dread.
“Angel.”
“Angel? How? Why did he...? I thought you said I’d always come up here by myself.”
“I think he found out somehow where you’d gone during your absences. You thought it might have just been something innocent you’d written on a piece of paper. In any case, you were up in San Francisco with Dru and Darla, when he came here. I think he was jealous that you had done something independent; without his permission, so he killed Lawrence knowing you’d find out about it someday.”
“Why would he think that I cared about Lawrence, about any...” he looked at her.
“Humans?”
William nodded, “Yes, humans.”
“I don’t know if he thought you cared about them, as much as that you had some sort of relationship with them, more likely he thought you were using them for something. I think the point for him, was that it was outside of his realm of influence, and being the pack leader, he couldn’t abide that. So he killed Lawrence, to leave you a message. At least that’s what Spike...you told me a long time ago.”
“Bastard,” he said softly, “and so I’m the reason that Edna lost her husband? No wonder my...I helped her out,” he said, miserably, “I felt guilty.”
“Yes, you did. And don’t you realize how unusual that is?”
He looked up at her, confused. “Why wouldn’t I? I’m the one, whether intentional or otherwise, brought Angel to her doorstep.”
“William, you’re thinking like a man. That’s the point – Spike was a vampire, and by all intents and purposes, vampires don’t feel guilt over humans dying. They don’t care! Not only didn’t you kill Edna and Lawrence Jr., but you paid off their debtors, supported them, even paid for Lawrence to go to college, for cripe’s sake!”
“But if I hadn’t ever come here, Lawrence wouldn’t have been killed.”
“That’s true, but if you hadn’t come then maybe you wouldn’t have had a place to come to where you could still remember what it was like to be a man for a while.”
“She doesn’t know?”
“Edna? No, not exactly. But I don’t think that she was without suspicion all those years. After all, you never saw her anytime other than at night, and you obviously were the spitting image of your ‘grandfather,’ and ‘father,’ except for the clothes. The things that she’s said to me...well, I just think that maybe she knows more than she’s letting on, in her own way. Still, she loves you William. No matter what she knows or doesn’t know, she’s always considered you a friend. More than a friend, she’s considered you family.”
It was William’s turn for his eyes to water, “Some family, eh?”
“You’ve were good to her, William, even when you were Spike. I don’t know the reasons you had, just that something inside you, responding to her like the man that you had been, the man that you are. Maybe because she treated you like a man, and you didn’t want to break that faith she had.”
He didn’t respond, just shook his head.
“After that...you discovered that Clem had followed you up here, and he had a little more experience in house building and things, so you let him stay on and help you. Eventually you guys did all this; the houses, the roads, the gates, the landscaping.”
“How long did I live here?”
“You didn’t really. You’d only come up here occasionally. I asked you once how much time you’d spent here and you said only about a month’s worth in all the years you owned it.”
“Seems like a waste, doesn’t it?”
“You told me that you couldn’t just live here like a normal man. The demon wouldn’t let you, it needed more expression, than living here could provide.”
“It wanted to kill and to fight,” William said, tonelessly, looking at her.
Buffy nodded. “Yes.”
“And Clem, did he stay?”
“I think he stayed more than you, but he couldn’t just stay here all the time either. Probably got a bit lonely, I should think. He’s pretty social, as you know.”
“Social demon,” William mumbled, getting up and walking over to the window. The sun was up higher in the sky now, as the morning wore on.
He could feel Elizabeth looking at him, waiting for...what? For him to suddenly be alright with all that he’d learned? For them to go back to their so-called normal life?
Let her look, he thought sulkily. He felt smothered by her concern suddenly.
And tired; so tired of all of it.
He turned and headed for the bedroom, “I’m laying down,” he said, curtly.
“Oh...okay. Do you need anything?”
“No,” he told her, shutting the door firmly.
Buffy stood in the living room, looking at the closed bedroom door, and never felt so alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1:30PM
William awoke, groaning when he inadvertently stretched and hit his injured hand on the headb. He. He looked over to Elizabeth’s side of the bed, half expecting her to be there beside him, but she wasn’t.
No wonder, the way he’d been avoiding her, he thought.
He rose, used the restroom, then wandered out into the living room. It was empty, except for a note he found on the couch.
It read:
11:00am
William,
Went to the store for a few things that we need.
Be back in about an hour.
Love,
Elizabeth
He looked at the clock, next to the remaining pot – the one from Mesa Verde, which had avoided his wrath the other day – and noted that she was running late.
He looked out the window, to make sure that her car wasn’t there. It wasn’t. Wandered to the kitchen, William started boiling a kettle of water, then scrounged around looking for something he could fix for himself with one hand, to eat. He settled on a bag of chips he found in the pantry. He opened them with his teeth, half of the chips spilling out onto the table, the other half onto the floor. Petulantly, he left them there, with a bit of mean-spirited satisfaction when he imagined Elizabeth seeing them there.
‘Serves her right,’ he thought, ‘leaving me here all injured to take care of myself.’
Guilt followed on the heels of that thought, ‘Ponce!’ he said, berating himself.
Somehow, he managed to make himself a cup of tea, without any breakage or major spillage. The small spill he did have, he cleaned up.
He glanced at the clock on the stove, again. It read 2:00pm.
Where was she?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy had mindlessly puttered around for almost an hour, after William had gone to lay down, until finally, tired of wrestling with her own mental demons; she had to get out of the house.
She made a quick list of some things they could use, then wrote him a note to let him know where she went and when she’d be back.
Not that she figured he cared that much.
She got into the car and drove down the road, feeling almost guilty for the sense of relief it gave her to get away from the house, and him. It had been only 3 days since the attack, but it seemed much longer, as time had come to a sort of standstill.
When she got to the main road, she hesitated. If she went into town, she’d run the risk of being seen by Mrs. Carpello, Edna, or the other teachers, who thought she was away. That would lead to questions she didn’t want to answer; lies she didn’t want to have to make up on the spot. Better to go shopping in San Marcos, where she was a lot less likely to run into anyone that she knew. She turned the car the opposite way, and headed towards the highway.
However, her relief had once more been replaced by depression by the time she got to the San Marcos exit, and she just kept driving until she reached Highway 5. Turning north, she drove the way her and William had come last year for his birthday. From a distance of a couple of miles, she could see the towering walls of the San Juan Capistrano Mission, as she neared it.
After driving past the restaurants they’d eaten at by themselves, then a few months later with Dawn and John, she parked her car.
She wandered around the mission grounds, until she found the garden that her and William had sat in last year, surrounded by pink and red bougainvillea. In her head, the whole way here, she’d kept up a make-believe dialogue with William, as if it were last year, and they were coming here for the first time.
Sitting on the grass, she closed her eyes, and remembered what it felt like to steal kisses among the gardens with him.
“I should take you there sometime. Paris, Southern France, along the Mediterranean Sea,” he’d said, picking a red bougainvillea flower and putting it behind her ear.
“That would be wonderful,” she’d replied, “think I’m going to hold you to that.”
“It’s a deal,” he’d said, reaching over to her to seal it with a gentle kiss.
“Oh God!” she moaned. “It’s like you’re already gone William, like when Spike was...”
She stood up suddenly, anger flashing in her eyes, “That son-of-a-bitch! Who the hell does he think he is to ruin my life? William’s life? I’m going to kill him!”
As she walked towards her car, she dialed William’s cell phone number. There was no answer, as she’d suspected. She left a voice mail.
“William, this is Elizabeth. I know I said I’d be coming home soon, but something’s come up. I’m not sure when I’ll be home, probably not until after dinnertime. There’s still some soup refrigerator, if you get hungry. You can microwave it for a minute or two, in the container it’s in. Just be careful, the container can be hot. Use the oven mitt. I guess that’s it. I’ll be home as soon as I can......I love you. Bye. I hope you get this message...”
Beep!
“... the time allotted for your message has been met, if you wish to...”
She flipped her phone off, noting the time as she did. Just enough time, if she hurried.
Opening the trunk, she took out something that she’d kept hidden underneath her emergency kit.
She brought it up to the front seat with her, started the car, and got back on Highway 5, heading north. Destination: Los Angeles.
END CHAPTER 151
JULIAN
AUGUST 15, 2009
8:00AM
Buffy rolled over in her sleep, unconsciously reaching out to what was now the empty half of their bed. She opened her eyes to see her hand fingering the spot where William should be.
Not hearing his snore, she got up to look for him. She found him sitting on the back porch, a cup of tea in his hands.
"Morning," she said.
"Morning."
"You been up long?"
"About 20 minutes.”
"How's your hand?"
"Throbbing a bit, but not too bad."
"Well, you can take another anti-inflammatory after you eat something, okay?"
"Not really hungry."
"You still have to eat something.”
Buffy went back into the kitchen and started some coffee for herself, then using bagels, made eggs in a hole for them.
"Breakfast," she called, as she poured orange juice.
A few minutes later, William came in and took his seat.
"Coffee?"
"I have tea.”
“I think it may have gotten cold by now,” Buffy said, looking at the still full cup he was holding.
William shrugged, “Alright.”
Buffy took his lukewarm tea away, replacing it with a hot cup of coffee.
They ate in silence, punctuated only by the birds singing outside.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
r brr breakfast, William had once more gone out to the porch. A few moments later, she heard a curt, “Be outside,” followed by the door opening and closing.
Buffy hurriedly cleaned up the kitchen, then followed him. She found him sitting on a lounger, staring straight ahead. At least until he noticed she was there, then he closed his eyes.
“Hey,” she said, as she sat down next to him.
He nodded his head slightly, to acknowledge her presence.
She was painfully aware that today was William’s birthday. What good (or harm) it would do to bring it up, she didn’t know. To say ‘Happy Birthday,’ under the circumstances, would almost be to mock the reality he now found himself in; they found themselves in.
She tried to remember how wonderful last year had been. Not quite two months since she’d first seen him, and a little more than a month since they’d been back home together, she’d taken him for the day to San Juan Capistrano. Clem and Dawn had been waiting for them back at the house, with decorations, presents, and a cake. William had almost been overwhelmed; saying nobody had ever done that for him before.
Not this year, this year there would be no surprise day trips, no cake, no decorations, no presents, no joy; no celebration of any kind.
She swallowed hard, she wouldn’t cry again. Not now, not today, not if she could help it.
Just get through the next hour, the next minute. Don’t think about last year or next year. Just get through the next moment.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They sat there in silence until a broom, which had been leaning against the house, fell over. William startled at the sound, his eyes flying open, and his body coming halfway out of his seat.
“It’s was just the wind,” Buffy said, touching his arm to reassure him.
He pulled away from her. “I thought it was...never mind.”
“I don’t think Clem is going to be around for a while,” Buffy said, “he went to see some...friends of his in San Diego for a few days.”
“Do his other friends know that he’s...or are they...? What the hell is he?” William asked, facing Buffy.
Buffy took a deep breath, “Clem is a demon, but he’s a good demon. And yes, some of his friends are demons, too.”
“A good demon? Isn’t that an oxymoron? Like a good vampire?”
Buffy got up off her chair, and faced him. “You listen to me, William Worthington, Clem is a good demon. And yes, Spike became a good vampire. What’s more important, is that Spike returned to being a good man, the man he was inside; you.”
William ran his uninjured hand through his hair, as he shook his head, pacing in front of her. “I can’t buy that! The very term demon means something of the devil, does it not? Something ungodly?”
“I don’t care what the term means. Man made up that term for things he couldn’t understand, creatures he couldn’t fathom...”
“And here I thought it was God that gave names to unholy things that were from hell,” he said, glaring at her.
“Oh William,” Buffy said, sighing, “it’s not that simple.”
“Simple?” he repeated, pacing to the house and back, “Are you telling me you don’t believe in God or the Devil? Heaven or Hell?” he asked, not sure at this point himself, but goading her none-the-less.
“I don’t know. God...I think so; Heaven – been there, done that, so I know that’s real. Didn’t meet God, though, so can’t say for sure.”
He stopped pacing to stare at her, shocked, “You were in...Heaven?”
“I think so...when I died, before Willow, Xander, Anya, and Tara did the spell that brought me back. It felt...warm and safe, like I was finished...” she looked at him and he was staring at her, his eyes moist and wide.
Buffy struggled to get a hold of her own emotions. “Well, I guess I wasn’t quite finished, because here I am, right? As for Hell or the Devil...it just seems too simple; there are many demons, some good, and a lot, lot more that aren’t. There’s not just a Hell, but many different hell dimensions. Having been The Slayer for all those years, I’ve had a lot of experience in those areas, so I think you can trust me on this one, William.”
He reached out for the patio table to steady himself, “How can I believe what you’re telling me; that there are good demons? That Clem...is one?”
“Because I wouldn’t lie to you, that’s why.”
William looked at her, and snorted, “No?”
Her face flamed and she swallowed back the sting of his remark. “Not about this, and that’s not what I...you know I didn’t lie to you to hurt you. You’ve got to know that! I just wanted to...protect you from this very thing; the things that are so hard to understand.”
“And because I was one of those things?”
She looked him in the eye, “Yes, once. Not for a long, long time, though William.”
He didn’t answer her, as they stood looking at each other. Finally, he looked away.
“There are good and bad people in the world, aren’t there?” Buffy asked.
He nodded.
“Well, I think it’s the same with demons.”
“It can’t be that simple! It can’t!”
“It’s not, I don’t mean to tell you that it is; it’s not simple at all. And I think it’s much harder to be a good demon, because demons don’t have souls. At least, I don’t think they do. Maybe some do, or something like it; something that lets some of them be good. All I know is that it’s not as black and white as I once thought; there’s a lot of gray. There was you, who changed, there’s Clem, who you’ve known for almost 70 years...”
“Seventy years?” William asked, shaking his head. It was incongruous to him every time he tried to put a number to such things: one hundred twenty years, seventy years, fifty years...
“How did I...we become... friends?” William asked, afraid to hear the answer.
“He was human once, and you saved him.”
“Saved him? From what?” William asked, looking surprised, “I thought I was supposed to ‘eat’ humans.”
“I don’t know why you chose to save him, only that you did. He was being attacked by demons – his kind of demons, and for some reason, you fought them off. Guess you just told him to get out of there afterwards.”
“Where?”
“San Francisco, I think you told me. Anyway, because Clem had already been bitten, he started turning into a demon.”
“Demons can ‘turn’ humans into other demons?”
“Not all, just a few can. Anyway, after Clem changed, he ran into you on the wharves. He said he was a mess, scared by what was happening to him. At first, you tried to kill him,” she said, then looked over guiltily at him, “because he looked like the other demons by then. After he told you who he was, you gave him some advice, and since he didn’t have any other friends, he sort of followed you up here. He helped you build this house, and his.”
“The house...why did I want to build a house? And here? Do vampires usually build...? Oh God!” William said, suddenly reeling towards the back door.
Buffy ran after him, “What is it? What’s wrong?”
William was at the kitchen sink, trying to turn on the water. He managed, just as she was reaching to help. Buffy grabbed a glass and held or hor him. He took a long drink.
“The land this house is built on, it belonged to Henry, my brother, didn’t it?”
Her eyes widened in understanding, “Yes,” she said softly.
Buffy took a deep breath before continuing, “After you...killed him, you said that you’d taken his valuables, but didn’t give much consideration to anything, except what you could use right away.”
“diatdiate gratification, I suppose,” William said.
Buffy nodded, “Part and parcel of being a vampire.”
“So, what happened?”
“Then you got curious about the acres of land your brother bought that you now held the deed for. I think you said, that around the turn of the century you found a vampire who had once been a lawyer; he helped get the deed put into your name. After you, along with Drusilla, Angel, and Darla came to the states and eventually California, you decided to come up to Julian to look around.”
“Angel? Isn’t that’s who Drusilla...? The one who wanted me killed?” William asked, a mixture of fear and anger in his voice.
Buffy nodded slowly, “Yes, that’s the one.”
“Who is he? To me...to Spike, that is?”
“Angelus, as Angel went by in those days, was sired by Darla. He sired Drusilla, who then sired you. That makes him, rather made him, your grand sire.” Buffy said, carefully assessing his reaction, as this latest information sank in.
“In 1880?”
“No, Darla was sired by the Master back in the 1600’s, Angel was sired by Darla in the 1700’s, Dru was sired by Angel...I’m not sure when, early 1800’s maybe. William, why don’t we leave that for later, while I tell you more about the house.”
He looked at her, and nodded, “Yeah. Alright. So, I came up here with the little vampire family...”
“No, you came by yourself. The other three were busy ingratiating themselves into the Hollywood scene, when you came up here. You had about 1000 acres that had never been mined for gold, so you sold off about 900 of them to turn them into cash, but you told me that you felt something for the land here, and kept 100 acres for yourself.”
“So then I decided to build a house?”
“Not right away. I think you just liked to have somewhere to come to, without the others; something of your own. At first, you just found a cave to stay in. I don’t think you had any intentions of building a house.”
“Just a place to stay out of the sun during the day?”
“Something like that.”
“Do vampires sleep in coffins?” he asked with a shudder.
Buffy shook her head, remembering how frightened he’d been in the hospital when they’d had to crawl into the morgue cart to make their escape. “No, vampires can live anywhere, in any manner. As long as they stay out of the sun, which is a good reason to sleep during the day, makes avoiding getting all toasty a lot easier. As for where vampires live, or how – you name it, they can manage it, it seems. From squalor to grandeur, caves to castles. I got the impression that the four of you lived in quite lovely houses, after you’d...” Buffy stopped suddenly, realizing what she was about to say.
“Killed the people who lived there?” William finished for her, flinching from his own words.
She nodded, “Yes. I’m sorry.”
“Why? You didn’t kill them, I did, right?” William said harshly.
“No, I didn’t. But I’m still sorry I have to be telling you things you’d rather not hear William; things that I wish with all my heart, I never had to tell you.”
They stood staring at each other for a minute. Although they were only a couple of feet from each other, the gulf had never seemed so wide. Buffy bit down on her lip to stop herself from reaching out across the divide to him; sure his rigid figure wouldn’t accept her embrace, or her comfort.
“Go on,” he said.
“You sure?”
“Go on,” he repeated.
Buffy nodded, “So, one of the times you’re up here you went into town that night. You said that you heard a fight and for some reason, went to investigate. It was Edna’s husband Wallace, being attacked by an irate customer who had been kicked out earlier for being fresh with Edna. You intervened, kicked the guy’s ass, and saved Wallace.”
“William sat down on the couch, his head in his hands, “Edna...she knows?”
“No, she doesn’t. Not really.”
“But I’ve known her all those years...she thinks I was my father and grandfather? That’s why she was always talking about them, and that’s why it didn’t make a lick of sense to me! Because my grandfather was never in American, nor was my father. I knew it!” he said, almost smiling.
“Yes, that’s how you were able to have a relationship wher her over the years, by disappearing for years at a time, then letting her know somehow that one of them had passed, waiting a few more years, or twenty...however many, before the next ‘William’ would show up. William the son, then you – son of the son,” she said, with a small unintentional laugh.
William shot a glance her way, and Buffy shrugged apologetically.
He looked at her, waiting for her to continue, so she did. “For some reason, you responded to them in a way you hadn’t responded to humans since being turned. Lawrence knew you by name, that you owned the land; through his friend, the investor, who had first told him and Edna about Julian. He asked you where you were staying and you told him that you were pitching a tent while you were up there. He suggested you build yourselhoushouse on some of the property that you own, and gave you the names of contractors, telling you that he’d help you. For some reason, it appealed to you – to have a place of your own.”
“A place of my own,” William repeated, nodding.
“So with Lawrence’s help, he sets up the contractors and the house starts getting built. You have given him the discretion to use the money for this, and you head back to join the gang.”
“I thought you said Clem helped build the house,” he asked, a confused look on his face.
“He did. I’m getting to that. You don’t get back here for a couple of years. When you do, you realize that nothing has been done on the house, past what had been started while you were still here. You’re furious thinking that Lawrence has stolen or squandered your money. You go off to find him, but find that restaurant is boarded up, and the hotel they owned next door to it, has a foreclosure sign in front of it. You bang on the door, and a bedraggled woman, holding a small child answers it. You demand to know what’s happened to Lawrence and Edna, then realize that the woman standing there is Edna.”
William nodded, “I know the rest of the story; Edna told me it last winter when I was helping her at the restaurant, before Valentine’s Day,” he said, then looked guiltily over at Buffy.
“I remember,” she replied softly looking at him, then down at the ring she wore. “It was so,” she looked up at him with tears in her eyes, “perfect.”
“Dont!” he said, his voice sounding harsh in the quiet of the room. Her cheeks reddened at his reprimand. He watched, as if in slow motion, a lone tear rolled down Elizabeth’s face, hung silently, then dropped to the floor. William swallowed hard, ashamed that he’d hurt her. His heart ached to take her in his arms, and make it all go away; her pain and his, but his head overruled, and he remained frozen to his spot.
Still, he wasn’t a monster; “Elizabeth, I’m...”
She shook her head, “Don’t,” she said, repeating his word. She swiped angrily at her eyes, as she willed herself to stay in the now as they weathered this new reality.
“You know about Lawrence being killed?” she asked, finally.
“Yes, and how my grandfa...I helped Edna afterwards...after Lawrence had been killed by someone staying at their hotel,” he said shaking his head sadly. “All that time, she hadn’t spent my money, even when she didn’t know if I was ever coming back or not, because she just couldn’t do that.”
“Not just someone, but a certain someone who wanted to leave you a message.”
“Leave me a message? Why? Who?” William asked, his voice filled with dread.
“Angel.”
“Angel? How? Why did he...? I thought you said I’d always come up here by myself.”
“I think he found out somehow where you’d gone during your absences. You thought it might have just been something innocent you’d written on a piece of paper. In any case, you were up in San Francisco with Dru and Darla, when he came here. I think he was jealous that you had done something independent; without his permission, so he killed Lawrence knowing you’d find out about it someday.”
“Why would he think that I cared about Lawrence, about any...” he looked at her.
“Humans?”
William nodded, “Yes, humans.”
“I don’t know if he thought you cared about them, as much as that you had some sort of relationship with them, more likely he thought you were using them for something. I think the point for him, was that it was outside of his realm of influence, and being the pack leader, he couldn’t abide that. So he killed Lawrence, to leave you a message. At least that’s what Spike...you told me a long time ago.”
“Bastard,” he said softly, “and so I’m the reason that Edna lost her husband? No wonder my...I helped her out,” he said, miserably, “I felt guilty.”
“Yes, you did. And don’t you realize how unusual that is?”
He looked up at her, confused. “Why wouldn’t I? I’m the one, whether intentional or otherwise, brought Angel to her doorstep.”
“William, you’re thinking like a man. That’s the point – Spike was a vampire, and by all intents and purposes, vampires don’t feel guilt over humans dying. They don’t care! Not only didn’t you kill Edna and Lawrence Jr., but you paid off their debtors, supported them, even paid for Lawrence to go to college, for cripe’s sake!”
“But if I hadn’t ever come here, Lawrence wouldn’t have been killed.”
“That’s true, but if you hadn’t come then maybe you wouldn’t have had a place to come to where you could still remember what it was like to be a man for a while.”
“She doesn’t know?”
“Edna? No, not exactly. But I don’t think that she was without suspicion all those years. After all, you never saw her anytime other than at night, and you obviously were the spitting image of your ‘grandfather,’ and ‘father,’ except for the clothes. The things that she’s said to me...well, I just think that maybe she knows more than she’s letting on, in her own way. Still, she loves you William. No matter what she knows or doesn’t know, she’s always considered you a friend. More than a friend, she’s considered you family.”
It was William’s turn for his eyes to water, “Some family, eh?”
“You’ve were good to her, William, even when you were Spike. I don’t know the reasons you had, just that something inside you, responding to her like the man that you had been, the man that you are. Maybe because she treated you like a man, and you didn’t want to break that faith she had.”
He didn’t respond, just shook his head.
“After that...you discovered that Clem had followed you up here, and he had a little more experience in house building and things, so you let him stay on and help you. Eventually you guys did all this; the houses, the roads, the gates, the landscaping.”
“How long did I live here?”
“You didn’t really. You’d only come up here occasionally. I asked you once how much time you’d spent here and you said only about a month’s worth in all the years you owned it.”
“Seems like a waste, doesn’t it?”
“You told me that you couldn’t just live here like a normal man. The demon wouldn’t let you, it needed more expression, than living here could provide.”
“It wanted to kill and to fight,” William said, tonelessly, looking at her.
Buffy nodded. “Yes.”
“And Clem, did he stay?”
“I think he stayed more than you, but he couldn’t just stay here all the time either. Probably got a bit lonely, I should think. He’s pretty social, as you know.”
“Social demon,” William mumbled, getting up and walking over to the window. The sun was up higher in the sky now, as the morning wore on.
He could feel Elizabeth looking at him, waiting for...what? For him to suddenly be alright with all that he’d learned? For them to go back to their so-called normal life?
Let her look, he thought sulkily. He felt smothered by her concern suddenly.
And tired; so tired of all of it.
He turned and headed for the bedroom, “I’m laying down,” he said, curtly.
“Oh...okay. Do you need anything?”
“No,” he told her, shutting the door firmly.
Buffy stood in the living room, looking at the closed bedroom door, and never felt so alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1:30PM
William awoke, groaning when he inadvertently stretched and hit his injured hand on the headb. He. He looked over to Elizabeth’s side of the bed, half expecting her to be there beside him, but she wasn’t.
No wonder, the way he’d been avoiding her, he thought.
He rose, used the restroom, then wandered out into the living room. It was empty, except for a note he found on the couch.
It read:
11:00am
William,
Went to the store for a few things that we need.
Be back in about an hour.
Love,
Elizabeth
He looked at the clock, next to the remaining pot – the one from Mesa Verde, which had avoided his wrath the other day – and noted that she was running late.
He looked out the window, to make sure that her car wasn’t there. It wasn’t. Wandered to the kitchen, William started boiling a kettle of water, then scrounged around looking for something he could fix for himself with one hand, to eat. He settled on a bag of chips he found in the pantry. He opened them with his teeth, half of the chips spilling out onto the table, the other half onto the floor. Petulantly, he left them there, with a bit of mean-spirited satisfaction when he imagined Elizabeth seeing them there.
‘Serves her right,’ he thought, ‘leaving me here all injured to take care of myself.’
Guilt followed on the heels of that thought, ‘Ponce!’ he said, berating himself.
Somehow, he managed to make himself a cup of tea, without any breakage or major spillage. The small spill he did have, he cleaned up.
He glanced at the clock on the stove, again. It read 2:00pm.
Where was she?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy had mindlessly puttered around for almost an hour, after William had gone to lay down, until finally, tired of wrestling with her own mental demons; she had to get out of the house.
She made a quick list of some things they could use, then wrote him a note to let him know where she went and when she’d be back.
Not that she figured he cared that much.
She got into the car and drove down the road, feeling almost guilty for the sense of relief it gave her to get away from the house, and him. It had been only 3 days since the attack, but it seemed much longer, as time had come to a sort of standstill.
When she got to the main road, she hesitated. If she went into town, she’d run the risk of being seen by Mrs. Carpello, Edna, or the other teachers, who thought she was away. That would lead to questions she didn’t want to answer; lies she didn’t want to have to make up on the spot. Better to go shopping in San Marcos, where she was a lot less likely to run into anyone that she knew. She turned the car the opposite way, and headed towards the highway.
However, her relief had once more been replaced by depression by the time she got to the San Marcos exit, and she just kept driving until she reached Highway 5. Turning north, she drove the way her and William had come last year for his birthday. From a distance of a couple of miles, she could see the towering walls of the San Juan Capistrano Mission, as she neared it.
After driving past the restaurants they’d eaten at by themselves, then a few months later with Dawn and John, she parked her car.
She wandered around the mission grounds, until she found the garden that her and William had sat in last year, surrounded by pink and red bougainvillea. In her head, the whole way here, she’d kept up a make-believe dialogue with William, as if it were last year, and they were coming here for the first time.
Sitting on the grass, she closed her eyes, and remembered what it felt like to steal kisses among the gardens with him.
“I should take you there sometime. Paris, Southern France, along the Mediterranean Sea,” he’d said, picking a red bougainvillea flower and putting it behind her ear.
“That would be wonderful,” she’d replied, “think I’m going to hold you to that.”
“It’s a deal,” he’d said, reaching over to her to seal it with a gentle kiss.
“Oh God!” she moaned. “It’s like you’re already gone William, like when Spike was...”
She stood up suddenly, anger flashing in her eyes, “That son-of-a-bitch! Who the hell does he think he is to ruin my life? William’s life? I’m going to kill him!”
As she walked towards her car, she dialed William’s cell phone number. There was no answer, as she’d suspected. She left a voice mail.
“William, this is Elizabeth. I know I said I’d be coming home soon, but something’s come up. I’m not sure when I’ll be home, probably not until after dinnertime. There’s still some soup refrigerator, if you get hungry. You can microwave it for a minute or two, in the container it’s in. Just be careful, the container can be hot. Use the oven mitt. I guess that’s it. I’ll be home as soon as I can......I love you. Bye. I hope you get this message...”
Beep!
“... the time allotted for your message has been met, if you wish to...”
She flipped her phone off, noting the time as she did. Just enough time, if she hurried.
Opening the trunk, she took out something that she’d kept hidden underneath her emergency kit.
She brought it up to the front seat with her, started the car, and got back on Highway 5, heading north. Destination: Los Angeles.
END CHAPTER 151