ONE NORMAL LIFE / TWO EXTRAORDINARY LIVES

[b]Please note: I had to add a bit of something to ch. 172- which is already posted, but impossible on this website to easily correct. This is the first time, I've had to do such a thing in all the hundred seventy two chapters so...forgive me. I tried to put that section in bold (if it works!) so it will be easy to find. Then, just continue on to chapter 173 beneath. [/b]

CHAPTER 172 – WHAT I HAVE TO DO; AS A MAN

NOVEMBER 20, 2009
THURSDAY
1:00AM

William's eyes flew open, the echoes of both their screams still pulsing on the edge of his nightmare. Heart pounding, his hands went to his face, first feeling along his eyebrows and forehead, and then his teeth. Despite his wanting to bolt upright, he eased himself out of the bed, as to not wake Elizabeth. Somehow he managed to find his pants and shirt, and pulled them on before letting himself out of the bedroom.

He headed for his duster, hanging near the door, and grabbed the cigarettes out of the pocket, before pulling it on. Next, he went into the kitchen, and opened the cabinet door underneath the sink. There in the far right corner, behind the cleaning supplies, was a bottle of gin he'd stashed. He grabbed it, and headed onto the back porch.

Hands trembling, he only hesitated for a moment before taking a long pull on the bottle. His teeth clenched as the burning liquid hit his stomach. He felt the rising nausea from the combination of the alcohol, and the memory of the coppery taste in his mouth, and made for the back door, running outside just in time to empty the his stomach onto the grass. Lifting his head, he surveyed the contents, almost expecting to see blood in the mix. Luckily, there wasn't.

"Jeez, are you okay, Spike?" Clem's voice asked, from out of the darkness.

William stood up and backed away as quick as he could, nearly avoiding smacking into a tree.

He froze, seeing William's reaction.

"Clem," William finally spoke, "it's you."

"Yeah, just me," Clem said, relaxing a bit. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

"I just...what are you doing here? I mean right now; in the middle of the night?"

"I couldn't sleep, so I decided to take a walk. That, and I was going to drop off some things for you guys; food things."

William looked at the bag Clem was carrying for the first time.

"I was just going to leave it on the back porch; not knock or anything."

"Oh. Well...thanks."

Clem nodded. "What about you? Are you getting sick with the flu, too?"

William looked at him blankly, until Clem motioned to the vomit. William shook his head, and his shoulders slumped, as he sat down in front of the tree he'd nearly stumbled into, and lit a cigarette. Clem sat down a few feet from him, waiting.

"I thought I could do it," he said softly, taking a deep drag from the cigarette.

"Do what?"

"This," William said, motioning with his hands to everything around him, "stay here with Elizabeth, take care of her; go back to the way things were. For a while tonight, I almost believed it was possible."

"What changed?" Clem asked.

William shook his head.

“You guys have a fight?”

“No, nothing like that. Quiet the opposite, in fact,” he said, with a pained laugh.

William puffed on his cigarette as they sat there in silence for a few minutes. Finally he looked up at Clem.

“It’s these nightmares I been having.”

Clem studied his face; it was the picture of pain and dejection. “Everyone has nightmares sometimes. I think after what happened to you that's sort of to be expected. Know what I mean? Whatever they are, I don’t think that means you can’t stay here with Buffy.”

“I can’t! You don’t understand, in these nightmares I...it’s as if I’m him again!”

“Who? Spike?”

William nodded.

“Spike was an alright guy for a vampire. You did good things. You helped me, Edna, Buffy and her friends, and hey, Buffy did fall in love with you; I don't think she would've done that if you were all bad."

William ran his hands through his hair, in a frustrated gesture. “I don’t know how she could’ve, Clem. A woman like her - good, decent, The Slayer. How could she?"

Clem shrugged, “Love’s a funny thing.”

“I feel it inside me, when I have these nightmares.”

“What? Love?” Clem asked, confused.

“No! Not love. I feel the hate, the evil, the lust to kill," he said, looking at Clem.

“It’s still a nightmare,” Clem said, though something in the way his eyes had flared with the old intensity of Spike made Clem discreetly inch backwards.

“Is everyone a cold-blooded killer in their nightmares? I kill everyone in mine, including her; particularly, her,” William said, with a shudder.

“Shit. That sucks.”

“Yeah,” William said, with a small laugh.

“But you haven’t actually killed anyone recently, or drank any blood, right?”

"Of course not! Though, I did kill demons when I was working at Ipso Facto...bad demons,” he clarified.

“Well, that’s good. I mean good that they were bad," Clem said. "There you go."

William shook his head. “I don’t trust myself, I don’t know what’s happening to me. What if it's more than just nightmares, and I try to...?" he left the words unsaid, the meaning clear.

“You should tell Buffy what you’re going through, man. Maybe the two of you...”

“No! That’s just it. I can’t risk her that way; I won't. That's why I’m going away. At least until I can get some answers about my nightmares, and about who I was; when I was him.”

“Well, that’s just stupid...er, I mean silly,” Clem said, darting a careful glance at William. “What I mean, is that we can tell you all about him. Um...about yourself...Spike, that is. I’ve known you forever, and there’s Buffy, who knows you really, really, well. There’s Dawn...”

“No. I need to...I’m going to England, to stay with Mr. Giles for a while.”

“Her former watcher? Does Buffy know?”

“No, and I don’t want you to tell her.”

“Oh, man...”

“Please? I need to do this; alone.”

“If Buffy finds out I knew, she’s going to be really pissed at me,” Clem said, and wondering where he might stay to avoid the fallout. Perhaps with his cousin Marlong, in San Diego...

“Not as pissed as she’ll be at me; if that’s any consolation.”

Clem laughed, “Not really. Still, I don’t understand why you’d want to go and stay with Mr. Giles. From what Buffy told me, he hated you when you were a vampire.”

“Yeah, kind of got that impression, too. I mean, I don’t think he hates me now,” William said, shaking his head to clear it. “But in some ways that’s the point. The fact that he did, means he doesn’t have any reason to mollify the truth, or keep it from me.”

“You sure that’s what you want?” Clem asked.

William took his time answering it. “No, it’s not what I want; but it is what I need.”

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

2:00AM

Buffy didn’t remember falling asleep on the couch, or being carried to bed, but at midnight she’d awaken, and found herself in basically the same position she had been on the couch. Only in reverse, with her arm wrapped around William’s waist, his hand holding tightly onto hers on his chest.

But when she woke now, she immediately sensed his absence. Troubled for reasons as yet unknown to her, she sat up, and grabbed her robe. Quietly, Buffy opened the door to her room, and went looking for William. She made a quick tour of the house, even calling up into the attic, but he wasn’t there. With a growing feeling of foreboding, she noticed his duster missing from the coat stand by the door.

Steeling herself for the worst, she forced herself look outside. She reached out and steadied herself, letting out a breath of relief, when she saw William’s car was still parked in front of the house. Backtracking to the kitchen, she let herself out onto the porch. That’s when she saw him sitting outside on the ground with Clem.

And it was at that very moment, that she knew.

Perhaps it was his posture; the slump of his shoulders, or the way his head was bent, but she knew. Her heart sank, as she watched him through the window, unseen.

Buffy watched as Clem finally rose to leave. A few minutes later, William got up, and headed back to the house. She turned, and hurried back into the bedroom.

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

William let himself in the back door, closing it softly. In the kitchen, he replaced the bottle of gin underneath the sink; sorry he’d taken it out in the first place. It hadn’t helped.

He let himself into the spare bedroom, and went into the bathroom from there, where he proceeded to brush his teeth, and gargle, hoping to erase the telltale signs of cigarettes and alcohol. Finished, he ran a comb through his hair, and undressed, before coming back into the bedroom.

Quietly, he laid his clothes over the chair, then crawled under the covers, careful not to disturb her. Elizabeth’s back was to him, and although he tried, William couldn’t resist sidling up to her again.

Buffy felt William’s arm go around her, and the whisper of a kiss being placed on her head. She intertwined her hand tightly in his, gathering up her courage, before turning around to face him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” William said, adjusting his embrace to her turn.

“You didn’t; not really,” Buffy said.

“How are you? You feeling okay? Do you need anything? A drink? An aspirin?” he asked, feeling her head.

Buffy laughed softly, “Stop worrying. I’m okay.” She paused, as she searched his face. “What about you? What do you need, William? What do you want?”

“Me? I’m... What do I...?” William started, then grew silent as the meaning of her words started to sink in.

“Elizabeth...”

“It’s okay,” she said, with a small, encouraging smile that didn’t quite make it to her eyes, “tell me.”

William took a breath, “Elizabeth,” he started, “yesterday when I came over to apologize, I also came to tell you that...I’m going away for a while. Tomorrow.”

“You’ve already been away; how’s this any different?” Buffy asked, with a touch of bitterness creeping into her voice.

“Not running away from...everything this time. I see that now. Didn’t think I’d have classified it that way before, but how does that expression go? Hindsight is always 20/20?”

“Then if you’re not running away, why are you leaving?”

“Looking for answers this go around.”

“But why do you have to leave? I can help you...”

“No,” William said gently, “you can’t. At least not right now.”

She laid back on her pillow, and closed her eyes, willing the tears to not come.

“Elizabeth,” William said, leaning over her. “Look at me.”

Slowly Buffy opened her eyes. His blue eyes were directly above hers.

“I am not doing this to try to cut you out of my life,” he said, shaking his head, and willing her to believe him.

“No? Looks like it from where I sit; or lay may be the more accurate term. And hey, you’ve gotten a pretty good start on that already!”

“Elizabeth,” he said, trying hard not to be baited into an fight with her. “It’s what I have to do; as a man.”

“I don’t understand why you can’t stay, why you won’t let me help you through this. Why?” Buffy asked sitting up.

William sat up as well, and knelt on the bed in front of her, taking her hands. “This isn’t about my not wanting you in my life, nor is it about not wanting us to be together more than anything in this world; I do. I do,” he said, leaning forward and cupping her face in his hands, “but this is something I need to do for me.”

Buffy let his words sink in, finally giving a short nod. William let out a grateful breath at her acceptance.

“Can I at least ask you where you’re going?”

“Not right now,” William said, gently, then hurried to add, “but I’ll be in touch within a week or two. I promise you Elizabeth, I won’t keep you in the dark for very long.”

“Promise?”

“I just did,” he said softly, leaning over and kissing her forehead. She put her arms around him, and they hugged for a long while.

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

It was decided by them both, that William would leave early the next morning, before Buffy woke. They had already said their goodbyes the night before.

Although neither of them had thought they would actually be able to sleep, while enjoying the comfort of each other’s embrace for one last night, they had fallen asleep a couple of hours later.

William awoke around 8:00am. He stared at Elizabeth, willing his eyes to drink in the image of her, and his body to commit to memory, the feel of her against him, before starting his lonely journey. Finally, he rose, and got ready to leave.

He went into the spare room, and found her laptop, that she’d told him he could take. William had agreed, since the one at the apartment was the Wittman’s, and he didn’t know what the situation would be in England.

Grabbing the few things he had with him, plus a few more that had been at the house, he went out to the kitchen one last time. He jotted a quick note to her, and folded it, leaving it on the table.

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

8:45AM

William slowed down as he neared The Rittenhouse Restaurant, an idea forming in his head. He waited behind an early morning delivery truck just pulling out, before deciding to take it’s place at the curb. Pulling out a small pad of paper from his glove compartment, he wrote a note to Edna, asking her to please make up some of Elizabeth’s favorite dishes from the menu, which he listed, and letting her know that Clem or Dawn would be by later in the day to pick up the order. Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out five twenties, and placed them inside the note. On a separate piece of paper, he then wrote a short, personal note to Edna.

That finished, he got out of the car, and walked up the sidewalk to the entrance.

In the dining room, Edna was straightening up the tables, when she heard the door open.

“I thought you’d already left, Henry,” Edna called out, thinking it was the delivery man again. She walked back towards the front of the restaurant. “What else do you have for me?”

William had started to put the note on the maitre’d’s podium, when he heard her voice from the dining room.

Seconds later, she appeared. Edna froze; her eyes grew wide with sudden confusion.

“Hello, Edna,” William said softly.

“William?” Edna asked, still not believing what her eyes were telling her they were seeing.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, smiling uncertainly.

“William?” she repeated.

“Holy moley. I think I’m having a flashback!”

Both William and Edna turned to see Wallace, walking toward them.

“Huh?” William asked, now more confused than ever.

“Dude! Have you looked at yourself lately?”

The light bulb in William’s head finally went off, as he realized why Edna had looked so flabbergasted, and what Wallace’s words had meant.

Embarrassed, he looked down. “Um...yeah. Sorry about that, forgot I looked different than the last time you saw me. Forget it myself, sometimes.”

Edna cleared her throat, regaining her equanimity. “No need to apologize for anything William. Wallace, will you please bring some coffee to us in my office?”

Before William could protest, she had him firmly by the arm, leading him through the dining room, into the kitchen, and beyond.

As he followed Edna to her office, William couldn’t help pausing, as he passed the open door to the small room, and sometimes, private dining area, where he had proposed to Elizabeth. It was now once more, filled with supplies.

“Ah, yes; it’s a mess once again, as you can see,” Edna remarked seeing him looking into the room.

He didn’t reply, just followed her into her office.

Edna cleared off a chair, covered in various papers and cartons, moving it to the front of her desk.

“Now you can sit,” she said, patting it.

“You’re looking well, Edna,” William said, as he took the seat.

She dismissed his compliment with a self-effacing hand gesture.

“And you look...”

“Bloody ridiculous?” William volunteered, looking down.

Before she could answer, Wallace brought the coffees, and set them down, then went back to the kitchen.

Edna reached across the table and put her hand over William’s, as he was reaching for his coffee, subconsciously reassured that he was still warm to the touch. “I was going to say you look just like you did before you went away. That’s all,” she said, smiling.

“Yeah, guess I do at that,” William answered with a nod.

They drank their coffees in silence for a while.

“So, what brings you to the restaurant this morning?”

“Oh. Of course,” William said, telling what had been in the note.

“Elizabeth’s been ill?” Edna asked, looking up at him, alarmed.

“Yeah, she was. I mean she is, but she’s doing much better.”

“Oh my, I wish I’d known. I could’ve sent over something much sooner...”

“Don’t think it would’ve done much good then, seeing as she couldn’t keep anything down.”

“Of course. Goodness, that flu that’s going around has been just terrible. I’m glad I let my doctor talk me into a shot this year,” she rambled on a bit, the last thing caught his attention, however. “It’s a good thing that you’re there to take care of her. I’m so glad you’re back together...”

William cleared his throat. “Um...we’re not; not exactly. That’s why Dawn or Clem will be picking up the order. I’m going away for a while. I’m leaving today, in fact. I was just heading back to San Marcos to pack, when I decided to stop here first.”

“San Marcos?”

Fearing the disappointment he was sure to see in her eyes, he looked down as he spoke. “Yeah, been living there since last you saw me, tended bar for a while,” he said, giving her the abbreviated version of what his life had been like.

“I see,” Edna said, after a while. “What I don’t see though, is why two people who love each other as much as you and Elizabeth do, aren’t together. I’ve lived a long, long time, and I know exactly what I see when I look at the two of you; it’s a rare thing, William. So tell me, why are you going away, instead of staying here, where you belong?”

“It’s complicated...”

“What could be so complicated that you couldn’t work it out here, with Elizabeth at your side?”

“Edna,” William said, his hands going up to run through his hair. “You don’t know everything about me; if you did, I don’t think you would...let’s just say, you probably wouldn’t feel the same about me. Bloody h...uh, sorry,” he apologized, catching himself. “I didn’t even know everything about me, until recently. That’s why I’m leaving; there’s other things...things I need to know; have to find out.”

“William, there’s nothing; nothing you could tell me that would change my mind about you.”

“How can you be so sure of that?” William asked.

“I am, even if you’re not,” Edna answered evenly. “It’s one of the few, true benefits of age, the ability to see; really see people for what they are, despite appearances, despite a lot of things,” she said, holding him in her gaze.

“It means a lot to me that you think so highly of me. Even if I don’t share the same opinion,” William said, ruefully.

“When I look at you, I see a good man, plain and simple. Not that your life has been that, dare I say. But despite whatever it is you either know about yourself, or find out, when you go looking, you’re a good person inside, William. I think that counts for a lot, if not everything.”

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

9:30AM

“Good-bye, William. You take good care of yourself,” Edna said, giving him a hug. “I hope you find whatever it is you’re hoping to find out about yourself. Just remember, no matter what that is, this is your home; where you’re loved and accepted for you.”

“I won’t forget,” he answered.

“Promise an old woman?”

“Who’s old?” he asked, taking a step back to look at her in mock surprise.

“William!” she said with a delighted giggle, though still trying to sound serious.

“I promise,” he said solemnly. “Well, I’d better be on my way.”

Edna released him. “Go on, then,” she said, giving him a gentle shove.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Wallace said, joining William as he walked down the steps.

“I wanted to thank you for everything you did last time I was here. I was a real mess.”

“No problem,” Wallace said, shrugging.

“Yeah, it was. Listen, I left a note on the podium when I first came in; before I saw Edna. It’s got the list of dishes I wanted Elizabeth to have made up for her. There’s enough money to cover it all, plus the amount I owed you is there, too.”

“You didn’t have to worry about that.”

“Wasn’t worried, just wanted to pay you back like I said I would.”

“Thanks, that’s cool,” Wallace said.

“Glad Edna didn’t see the note yet, she never wants to take my money.”

“Nope, not her William’s money,” Wallace said, grinning.

“Take care, Wallace,” William said, shaking his hand. Just as he was opening the door, a car came to a stop in the road next to them. He only gave it a cursory glance, as the morning sun was shining into his eyes from that direction.

[b]"Spike?"

The two men looked over at the driver, who was staring at William with her mouth open.

"Dawn," he stammered.

She continued to stare at him, taking in the familiar appearance.

"Wallace, this is Dawn, Elizabeth's sister."

"Hi, Dawn,” Wallace said.

"Hello," she answered, her eyes never leaving William's.

"Well, um...I'll see you later William. Nice to meet you.”

"Yeah, same here," Dawn said. She put the car into park, and got out of it, leaving it on the road. Despite the fact that Buffy had told her of William’s changed looks, Dawn still felt like she was really seeing Spike for the first time in over five years. Not surprisingly, with that realization also came a good deal of anger; Spike anger.

"I don't know if I should hug you or hit you," she said, glaring at him.

"I guess you could do both; if you want...”

“Shut up!” Dawn said, flinging herself into his arms, hugging him tightly. A lump came up in his throat as he held her; the young woman whom he inexplicably felt so much brotherly love toward, ever since getting to know her again. Just like Elizabeth, the more he’d gotten to know her, the more he felt he could imagine remembering the love he’d felt for them from before. He hadn’t felt the same about the other friends of theirs, hers, that he’d been re-introduced to, but with her...Before he could say anything, Dawn pulled back her fist, and slugged him as hard as she could.

"Ouch! Damnit, that really hurt," he said, rubbing his upper arm; grateful she hadn’t aimed for any other parts of his person.

"Good! You're an asshole, you know that?" Dawn said.

"Dawn..." William started.

“No! No matter what you say, no matter how you say it, I’m still going to think that you’re an asshole right now, so don’t even try,” Dawn said, hands on hips.

William shoulders sagged, and he looked toward the ground.

“Well?” Dawn asked, tapping her foot impatiently, waiting.

“I thought you said...”

“Yeah, well, when did that ever stop you?”

William sighed, “I know what you think Dawn, but it’s complicated, I...”

“Oh William! Give it a fucking rest, will you? Dawn said, deriving some pleasure from him flinching at her use of the ‘f’ word.

“I get that you’ve been through a trying time; to say the least. I know you don’t remember it, but when I found out that I was The Key, and not just the crazy, younger sister of The Slayer I always thought I’d been, I ran away for a while. Well, first I almost set the house on fire, and said nasty things to both Buffy and my mom...but I got over it, and you helped me. I thought I was evil, because The Key, was meant to open up the portal to a hell-dimension.”

William looked at her sympathetically, shaking his head. “You couldn’t be evil.”

“Yeah, that’s what you told me back then, too. You said, you’d known evil, and that I wasn’t evil. I told you I didn’t think I was good, and you said, ‘Well, I’m not good, and I’m okay.” William grimaced, and Dawn grinned.

“But you actually were good Dawn. That’s the difference, no matter what I said.”

“No! There isn’t any difference. I was originally meant to be something evil, at least aid and abet evil, but once I was made human, I was more than what I’d been before. Don’t you see? That’s the same with you. You’re human now, plus you have the whole, ‘I saved the world,’ champion thing you could put on your resume. The point is I got over my past; you should too. Buffy loves you. So what if you were a vampire and killed people? I mean that’s what vampires do, right? You got over it even before you got your soul back, why can’t you just get over it now? You’re a good man, William; the man my sister is in love with. Isn’t that enough? I remember a time, when it was all you wanted in this world."

“It’s...complicated,” William said, wincing at the worthless expression.

Dawn stared at him, her eyes growing cold. “Again with the complicated! Well as far as I am concerned the, ‘it’s complicated,’ line is just a cover for someone not wanting to say what’s really going on. Or someone who just doesn’t have the balls to stand and fight for...oh hell, just forget it! Go on, have a nice life wherever you’re going. Write, don’t write, I don’t care. I just wish you didn’t have to keep hurting Buffy again and again. Even if she didn’t tell you about your past for over a year, which by the way, I told her she should have, I don’t think she deserves to keep on being punished for loving you so much that she wanted to protect you.”

“Oh God, Dawn. You think I’m doing this to punish Elizabeth? Nothing could be further from the truth. I never wanted to hurt her...”

“Whatever your reasons, the results are the same. You are hurting my sister, and she doesn’t deserve that; not after everything she’s gone through,” Dawn said, crossing her arms in front of her.

“I know, and I’m sorry if this makes it seem like we’re on opposite sides. Believe me when I tell you that I love Elizabeth, and the last thing I want is to hurt her; more than I already have. Believe me,” William said, looking into Dawn’s eyes.

“How long will you be gone for?” Dawn asked, after a long moment had passed.

“I don’t know.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’d rather not say right now.”

“Are you even coming back?” Dawn drilled him further.

“With all my heart Dawn, I believe so,” William said, after a moment’s hesitation in which he tried to answer the very question he had been trying to avoid in his own mind.

“I don’t want to lose you again, you big dummy,” Dawn said, softly.

“I know. Don’t want to lose you again either, Dawn. I love you; know that, don’t you?” William asked, his head tilted toward her.

She gave him a small, solemn nod.

"I asked Edna to make up some of Elizabeth’s favorite dishes. That’s why I was stopped here. Clem was going to pick them up in about an hour."

“Maybe I’ll just wait for him then,” Dawn said.

“Okay. He’d like that, I’d imagine. Besides, Elizabeth was still asleep when I...”

“You left while she was asleep? You didn’t even say good-bye?” Dawn asked, starting to get angry all over again.

"It’s not like that, Dawn. I didn't just leave, like you make it sound. We said our good-byes last night. We both thought it would be easier that way..."

“Oh. Well, that’s different then,” Dawn said, but then added, “but it’s still not good that you’re leaving!”

William sighed. There was no way he going to make her okay with this. No way to avoid hurting her, as well as Elizabeth.

"I'm sorry, Dawn." William said.

"Don’t. Don’t apologize, William. Just do what you have to so you can come back home."

William nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

“I’ve really got to go now, Dawn. Take care, okay?” William said, tentatively holding out his arms to her. Awkwardly, they hugged one more time before he got into his car.

"You’ll write?" Dawn called out to him.

"Said I would, didn’t I?"

"Then I’m holding you to it!"

William nodded, and drove off. Dawn watched until the DeSoto turned the corner, missing him already.

“Come back soon, Spike,” she said, wiping her eyes.

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

10:00AM

JULIAN

Before she even opened her eyes, Buffy could sense the absolute stillness in the house, letting her know William had gone. Although they’d decided to say their good-byes the night before, or had in so many words, she’d still hoped she would see him once more before he left. Her stomach clenched, whether from the remnants of the flu or from the thought of him being out there somewhere unknown, she didn’t know. The results, however, were the same.

Slowly she sat up, the all too familiar feeling of emptiness weighing her down. With effort, she forced herself to rise. After a quick trip to the bathroom, where she avoided looking into the mirror, she made her way into the kitchen. As soon as she walked in, she saw the note on the kitchen table.

Dearest Elizabeth,

Please know that wherever I am, you are always, always in my heart, my mind, my very soul.

Love,

William

Clutching the note, Buffy wearily sat down, trying hard not to give into useless tears; tears she’d been holding back ever since last night. For someone who she’d been so sure would never leave her, in fact, the only man who never would, his death notwithstanding; this letter just seemed the latest in what was becoming a very long list of good-byes they seemed to be forever having. [/b]


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

10:15AM

William was in the bathroom, packing up his shaving kit, and other essentials, when he heard someone knocking softly at his door. Taking a quick glance out of the window, he saw the car he’d been told to expect.

“Hello, you must be William. I’m Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, and I assume this little fellow is yours?” Wesley said, motioning to the cat, standing next to him.

William watched as Charlie ran between Wesley’s feet, and into the apartment. He turned his attention back to Wesley, shaking his outstretched hand. “Actually Charlie belongs to my landlord.”

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, just getting a few last things together. Come in, I won’t be but a minute,” he said, returning to the bathroom, to finish gathering up his toiletries.

Wesley looked around the apartment, the book collection being what caught his attention. William came into the living room with his luggage.

“You like poetry, I see,” Wesley remarked.

“Um...yes. Always have, rather.”

“I do as well,” Wesley said, nodding appreciatively. They discussed the various poets for a few minutes. Wesley watched and listened in fascination, as William talked rather passionately about some of his favorites.

“Have you ever written any poetry yourself?” he asked.

Of course, he already knew from the information that Rupert Giles had forwarded to him, that William had been raised in the Victorian Era, and that William Worthington had been known to be fond of writing verse. This information, garnered from the few interviews with acquaintances taken after William had disappeared, had survived in the Scotland Yard archives.

Perversely, that anything of such a mundane nature, as a young man being reported missing by his mother, survived at all, was probably due to the Jack the Ripper killings. Happening around the same time, the authorities had at first sought to keep it quiet. However, soon the heinous and bestial nature of the crimes became the talk of the day in all London society. The consequent public outcry thus forcing Scotland Yard to not only be much more thorough in its attention to detail, but to retain every and all leads in a crime, until that crime was solved.

“Tried my hand at it in the past, wasn’t very good though, I’m afraid,” William had replied, modestly.

“Well, maybe one day when time allows, you’ll permit me to see some of your work,” Wesley said.

“Don’t think so,” William said, shaking his head. As far as he knew, only Elizabeth had ever seen any poetry he’d written - that mostly because it was for her, and about her.

“Well, we’d best be off. I’ll grab these, while you get the cat,” Wesley said, grabbing William’s suitcases.

“Thanks,” William said, then went looking for Charlie. Ten minutes later, with Charlie in tow, he knocked on the Wittman’s door. Ingrid came to the door a few moments later.

“William, what a surprise. And Charlie! Rascal’s been missing for almost two days. Where did you find him?”

“My friend found him on my doorstep when he came to collect me.”

“Thanks for bringing him home,” Richard said, joining Ingrid at the door.

“My pleasure,” he said, handing over Charlie to Professor Wittman. The cat meowed loudly at the indignity of it all.

“Well, I’ve got to be off,” William said, motioning to Wesley’s car. “I’m going out of town for a while, and I don’t know when I’ll be back. I’d still like to keep the apartment, though. If that’s alright with you?”

“Of course, William. You’re still paid up for months yet. Do you know when you’ll be back?”

William shook his head, “I don’t, but if it runs past April, I’ll have my solicitor send you the money.”

“We’re not worried about it, William. You just take care,” Ingrid said.

“I will. Bye now,” William said, giving Charlie a final pet, before heading over to his car. He reached into the back seat, retrieving the laptop that he’d gotten from Elizabeth.

“You ready?” Wes said, as William got into the passenger seat.

“Yes,” William answered, as Wesley started backing down the driveway.

“Wait! I’m sorry, there’s something I forgot.”

“Okay,” Wesley said, putting the car into park.

“Be right back,” William said, dashing up to the stairs.

Once inside, he headed straight for the night table in his bedroom. He opened up the little box containing Elizabeth’s necklace and ring to reassure himself they were still there, then slipped it into his front jeans pocket.

“Get everything you need?” Wesley asked him, as he got back into the car.

“I’m ready now,” William replied.

END CHAPTER 172


CHAPTER 173 - BACK TO THE MOTHER COUNTRY

NOVEMBER 20, 2009
THURSDAY
11:15AM

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

“Um, Mr. Pryce?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

11:00AM

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

“Hey, Buffy, you’re up!” Dawn said..

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

“How are you?”

“Better.”

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

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

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

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

“What are they?” Buffy asked.

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

“He did?” Buffy asked. “That was...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be back around 6, how’s that?”

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

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

"Who him?"

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

"Oh. Did he see you?"

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

"What did he tell you?" Buffy asked.

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

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

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

"Dawn!" Buffy said, aghast.

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

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

Dawn shook her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

12:00NOON
LOS ANGELES

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

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

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

“Yes,” William said, taking them gratefully.

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you nervous?”

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

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

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

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

“I believe it holds upwards of 700 people.”

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

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

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

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

"That long?" William asked, gulping.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

LONDON
8:00PM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

LOS ANGELES
12:30PM

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

END CHAPTER 173