ONE NORMAL LIFE / TWO EXTRAORDINARY LIVES

CHAPTER 164 – IPSO FACTO

OCTOBER 31, 2009
FRIDAY
7:00PM

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

Halloween.

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

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

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

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

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

Katie shook her head no.

Buffy waited.

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

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

"Okay," Katie said.

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

Katie shook her head violently, bursting out into tears.

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

"I hate it!"

"What? What do you hate?"

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

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

Katieded,ded, sniffling.

"I hate it, too,” Buffy said.

“Really? Why do you hate it?"

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

Katie nodded vigorously.

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

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

"You do?"

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

"Do you...?"

"Do I what?" Buffy asked.

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

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

Katie regarded her solemnleforefore letting out a deep breath.

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

“I do, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NOVEMBER 13, 2009
THURSDAY
LOS ANGELES
9:00AM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why not?"

They clinked glasses, and downed the shots.

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

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

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

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

"G' night," he sagaiagain, grinning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

FOUR WEEKS AGO

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

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

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

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

“Sent me?” William asked, confused.

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

“Um...Miranda.”

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

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

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

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

“Who started up?” William asked, confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They keep it for my kind.”

“And what kind would that be, luv?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

William scoffed.

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

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

“What was that?”

“Somethin’ like that,” he said tersely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t matter, I can’t do this!”

“Because of them?”

He nodded.

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

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

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

He looked at her skeptically.

“Really,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you?” she countered.

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

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

“Give it a try, all I can promise.”

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

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

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

The demon shook his head, “Marlong.”

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

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

William just shook his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NOVEMBER 14, 2009
FRIDAY
2:00PM
SAN MARCOS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?” he asked, trying to place her.

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

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

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

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

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

Professor Wittman nodded, “Yes, of course.”

“You have?” Buffy asked, hopefully.

“You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” Buffy asked, confused.

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

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

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

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

“He moved out? Where did he go?”

“Well, that’s the thing. I’m nore. re. He was back a couple of times, but the last time must’ve been 2-3 weeks ago.”

“What do you mean?”

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

“You don’t know where he is?”

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

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

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

“Yes, please.”

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

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

“You’re welcome, Elizabeth.”

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

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

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

“Thanks for seeing me on such short no,” B,” Buffy said, as she entered the modest, but nicely furnished home.

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

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

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

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

“Me, too.”

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

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

“How so?”

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“He used to look like that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ingrid nodded, closing the door behind her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope you found something helpful, dear.”

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

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

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


END CHAPTER 164