ONE NORMAL LIFE / TWO EXTRAORDINARY LIVES
folder
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
210
Views:
11,896
Reviews:
182
Recommended:
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
210
Views:
11,896
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.
WELCOME TO LONDON
CHAPTER 175 - WELCOME TO LONDON
NOVEMBER 21, 2009
FRIDAY
1:00AM
Wide-awake, William stared out the window into the inky black night, as the plane started its six-hour trip across the Atlantic Ocean. Since departing almost an hour ago, the plane had flown up the New York and Canada coastlines, finally leaving land altogether after Newfoundland. He checked his watch; it was already early morning there, so he'd be landing around midday.
A middle-aged woman who’d boarded in New York, had been assigned the seat on the aisle, but had left his row when she discovered her friend further back, had an unoccupied seat next to her, as well. He sighed with relief when she’d grabbed her stuff from the overhead compartment and bid him a nice trip. She’d been friendly enough, but very talkative. Like him, she hadn’t seemed like she would be sleeping anytime soon. Now that she was gone though, he had nothing to occupy his mind with except regrets.
After a quick trip to the bathroom, he walked to the galley area where Wesley had indicated the 'duty-free' shop was located. Maybe he could find a book to help him pass the time.
“Can I get something for you?”
William turned to see the flight attendant behind him.
“Um...yeah, I thought I might find a book to read here; something to help pass the time.”
“I’m sorry; I'm not allowed to open it up for you, now that we’re over the water.”
“Why on earth not?”
She shrugged apologetically. “I’m afraid it’s a law, stupid that it may be, we’ve got to abide by it.”
“Bugger!”
She eyed him appreciatively for a moment, this platinum haired, black leather- wearing stud muffin, with cheekbones to die for. Unconsciously, her tongue darted out, licking her bottom lip, as quite a few ideas about just how he could pass the time fast-forwarded through her mind like an X-rated movie on a teenaged boy's personal DVD player.
“I think I’ve got something to help you pass the time,” she said, with a suggestive smile before he could turn away.
William’s eyebrows quirked up, “Yeah, what might that be, luv?”
She grabbed onto the sleeve of his coat, and started pulling him along the aisle after her, toward the front of the plane.
“Where are you taking me?”
She didn’t reply until she stopped in front of a staircase. “Lounge. Up there, just don’t tell anyone you’re not from first class, or that I let you go up, okay?”
“You sure? Don’t want you to get in any trouble on my account,” William said, with a mischievous smile.
“Yeah, probably won’t be but a handful of people up there, anyway.”
“Thanks.”
She sighed wistfully, as she watched him walking up the stairs, wishing it wasn’t unprofessional for her to ask for his phone number. Or that she wasn’t already married.
“Married, not dead,” she reminded herself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
William pulled himself up to his full height as he entered, trying to look as though he belonged, but nobody paid him any mind. There were nary a dozen or so patrons in the whole place. The warm, neutral tones, offset by the deep, rich wood of the bar and furnishings gave a cozy feel to the spacious lounge.
He chose a seat at the bar, and looked at the long list of beers they offered. He though of getting a Harp or Guinness, but chose Coors. Not because he actually preferred the taste, but because the first time he’d had one was when they’d camped in Colorado at Mesa Verde.
William didn’t notice right away, but an older man sitting at a nearby table turned to look at him, when he gave the bartender his order.
Trained by the hard lessons these last few months had schooled him in, coupled with his stint at Ipso Facto, William soon felt himself being watched. He looked up at the mirror, and caught the man's angry eyes as they stared at him. The man finally looked away, but it left him with a disquieted feeling. The man’s voice rose from across the room, but couldn't make out what he was saying. The others at his table, appeared to be trying to calm him down, as they surreptitiously glanced William's way every now and again. The uneasy feeling didn’t leave, until he saw the others appear to escort the man back out of the lounge, and back down to the cabin.
“Want another?”
William looked at the clock behind the bar. He wasn’t really drinking the one he had in front of him, but he had been sitting there for nearly an hour. He nodded, and the man dumped his old one, and brought him a second can.
“Is it alright if I go and sit in that booth?” he asked, pointing toward the far wall.
“Sure,” the bartender said, starting to pour the beer into a plastic cup.
“That’s alright, I’ll have the can.”
“Sorry, can’t let you; same reason there are no bottles allowed on the plane.”
“Oh, right,” he said, picking up the cup of beer he hadn’t really wanted in the first place, except for the memory it conjured. Now it might as well be a cup of warm piss as far as he was concerned.
He made his way across the room, and to the booth. William didn’t realize how tense he’d been, until he felt his back relax into the well-made seat. As was his habit, he always carried around a small notebook with him in order to write down things as they occurred to him, whether it be a piece of a poem stuck in his mind, or just a reminder. Of course, in this world, Palm Pilots, Blackberries, and the like had taken the place of pen and paper, but he was still most comfortable with those.
His concession to the new age was his cell phone and computer, but he never imagined he’d find enjoyment in reading an eBook, rather than the feeling a real one in his hands gave him. He never considered trying to type out his thoughts and feelings on a machine. Computers were fine for reports, research, and even email. In his most personal musings, however, he needed the physical sensation of seeing his words, scripted by his own hand appear on paper. Besides, his handwriting was something he was rather proud.
Of course, finding inspiration was another thing, especially when he was depressed. Pen poised in the air, he sat there staring at the notebook not knowing quite where to begin.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
William hadn’t realized he’d dozed off until he awoke to find the same old man who had been staring at him when he was at the bar, now sitting opposite him in the booth.
“What do you want?” William asked him.
“I know who you are. I’ve remembered you ever since that night in New York!”
“What night? What are you talking about?” William asked, now alarmed.
“The night you killed my wife!”
“The night I...? What? I’ve never met you! I don’t know what you’re talking about?” William said, paling.
“Oh, you know very well. You think I could forget your face? Your face is forever etched into my memory, my nightmares! Everytime I see a picture of Elaine, I see your face breaking my wife’s neck! My beautiful wife,” he cried out.
Shaking, William stood up, just as a man and a woman approached the table.
“Joe! What are you doing? Is he bothering you?” asked the woman.
“It’s him! I tell you it’s him! He’s the one who killed your mother! Him and the black haired woman,” he said to the middle-aged man.
“It was him! Him and the black haired woman,” he yelled, looking around as if he had missed seeing her somewhere.
“Dad! Look at him, he’s almost half my age! How could he have killed mom back in ’65? He wouldn’t have even been born then? How old are you?” he asked William.
“Twenty-nine,” William breathed out, barely above a whisper.
“I don’t care what he says! It’s him! It’s his face, same hair, same coat, even the same scar!”
William lifted his hand to his eyebrow unconsciously.
“You see that? He knows!”
William shook his head, just as another man who was in their group approached.
“Get dad back downstairs, he’s causing a scene. Dad thinks this is the man who killed mom.”
The man took one look at William, and rolled his eyes.
“Dad, the man would be old like you by now. This man wasn’t even born when mom died!”
“That’s what I told him,” the other son said.
“It’s him I tell you, it’s him!” he yelled, as the second man and woman led him away. Thankfully, the bar was empty by now, except for the bartender.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that. My dad has early-stage Alzheimer’s, and he doesn’t know what he’s saying. I’m Joe Green, by the way; same as my dad.”
William didn’t say anything. The man cleared his throat, finally.
“Look, can I buy you a drink or something? You look like you could use one.”
William shook his head, “No. Thank you. I think I’ll just...go back to my seat.”
“Okay. Again, I’m really sorry about that. If there’s anything...”
“No; nothing,” William said, as he shakily made his way to the stairs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
9:00AM
LONDON
“Damn!” Giles said, slamming down the phone.
This morning wasn’t going at all like he’d hoped. First he’d been awaken in the middle of the night by Wesley telling him that William was arriving on his own, which necessitated someone being on hand to meet him at the airport. Secondly, he’d waited three long and very painful weeks to get in to see his dentist, and now the appointment was right during the time he should be going off to the airport. He’d hoped that another of the dentist’s patients would’ve been so kind as to change times with him, but so far it wasn’t looking good.
Looking in his Rolodex, he pulled out his cell phone, and called one of the potentials.
“Charlotte, how would you like to make a little trip to the airport for me?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
12:00 NOON
LONDON
“’cuse me,” Giles said, as he reached into his pocket for his phone, his mouth full of cotton, tongue and lips numb from anesthetic.
“Your car, what? Damnbit!” Giles grumbled. “No. I know, Charlotte. Can’t be helped... I’ll go...I dust hope William waits ‘til I can get dhere.”
With a quick, effusively mumbled apology to the dentist, Giles hurried out of the office, and hopped into his car, praying that traffic wouldn’t hinder him more than necessary. Too bad that the London City Airport was only used by those flying in for business from around the country; that would’ve been perfect.
“Damnb’d wampire!” he cursed, as traffic slowed to a crawl on the M4 Motorway. “Damnb’d fawmer wampire,” Giles begrudgingly corrected himself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
William sat in his seat for the rest of the trip; afraid to even gets up to use the bathroom, lest he run into the old man again.
The old man’s words played again and again in his head; fearing that what he’d said had been true. Was he, rather Spike in New York back then? He feared it could’ve easily been so. How many others had he killed? People who were someone’s wife, husband, brother, sister, or child? How many families had he torn apart? How many people had he killed, as Spike, for over one hundred years?
Hundreds?
Thousands even?
How many had died because of him?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
12:00 NOON
HEATHROW AIRPORT
London had always been huge. In fact, it ranked as the world’s largest city when last he’d been there. However, even given the fact that he’d never seen it from the air, he was literally gobsmacked at what he was now seeing, as the plane came in for a landing.
William sat and waited, until he was sure everyone from rows ahead of him were already off before retrieving his bag from the overhead, containing the laptop and some other personal items, and making his way into the airport.
Fifteen minutes later, after going through customs, he made his way to the baggage area. After retrieving his suitcase, he made his way back to the terminal where he’d seen people greeting those who had arrived. Half an hour later, he was still sitting there, and everyone else had found their friends and loved ones and departed. He found Mr. Giles’ number, and after figuring out how to use his cell phone in England (no overseas extensions to dial) he called his home. There was no answer; nor was there one at his office, but he left a voice mail.
William finally decided to go outside the terminal and have a smoke.
Giles was in a lane of traffic across from the British Airways terminal when he spotted him. Stunned, he slowed down for a better look. Of course he knew from Buffy’s phone call, after she’d seen William in Los Angeles, that he’d changed his looks, but Giles had still expected to see the man he’d met last year. Instead he was staring at the splitting image of the vampire that had died over six years ago. An impatient horn sounded behind him, and he hurriedly rolled down the window.
“Spike,” he started to call, then stopped. Louder, he called out across the lanes of traffic, “William!”
Fumbling in his coat for a cigarette, William had just found his lighter, when he heard his name called. He looked across the double airport lanes of traffic, and there was Mr. Giles. William waved toward him
“Stay there, I’ll be there straight away!” Mr. Giles yelled, maneuvering the car to the inner lane, so he could make a U-turn. A few minutes later he pulled up to the curb.
“Get in before I get a ticket!” Mr. Giles said, his mouth still numb, but better.
“Right,” William answered, quickly throwing his luggage in the back seat. Mr. Giles pulled out, before his door was shut.
“I trust you had a good trip?”
“Yes, I...” William started to answer, then looked at him strangely. The side of Mr. Giles face was swollen up. “Are you alright, Mr. Giles?”
“Me? Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked until he saw William eyeing the side of his face. He rolled his eyes.
“Ah yes...that,” he said, and went on to explain the predicament he’d found himself in.
“I’m sorry, I should’ve just taken a cab...”
“Nonsense, it wasn’t your doing. Oh, and William?” Giles asked, as he watched the younger man looking out the car windows with a combination of shock and awe.
“Yes?”
“Welcome to London.”
END CHAPTER 175
NOVEMBER 21, 2009
FRIDAY
1:00AM
Wide-awake, William stared out the window into the inky black night, as the plane started its six-hour trip across the Atlantic Ocean. Since departing almost an hour ago, the plane had flown up the New York and Canada coastlines, finally leaving land altogether after Newfoundland. He checked his watch; it was already early morning there, so he'd be landing around midday.
A middle-aged woman who’d boarded in New York, had been assigned the seat on the aisle, but had left his row when she discovered her friend further back, had an unoccupied seat next to her, as well. He sighed with relief when she’d grabbed her stuff from the overhead compartment and bid him a nice trip. She’d been friendly enough, but very talkative. Like him, she hadn’t seemed like she would be sleeping anytime soon. Now that she was gone though, he had nothing to occupy his mind with except regrets.
After a quick trip to the bathroom, he walked to the galley area where Wesley had indicated the 'duty-free' shop was located. Maybe he could find a book to help him pass the time.
“Can I get something for you?”
William turned to see the flight attendant behind him.
“Um...yeah, I thought I might find a book to read here; something to help pass the time.”
“I’m sorry; I'm not allowed to open it up for you, now that we’re over the water.”
“Why on earth not?”
She shrugged apologetically. “I’m afraid it’s a law, stupid that it may be, we’ve got to abide by it.”
“Bugger!”
She eyed him appreciatively for a moment, this platinum haired, black leather- wearing stud muffin, with cheekbones to die for. Unconsciously, her tongue darted out, licking her bottom lip, as quite a few ideas about just how he could pass the time fast-forwarded through her mind like an X-rated movie on a teenaged boy's personal DVD player.
“I think I’ve got something to help you pass the time,” she said, with a suggestive smile before he could turn away.
William’s eyebrows quirked up, “Yeah, what might that be, luv?”
She grabbed onto the sleeve of his coat, and started pulling him along the aisle after her, toward the front of the plane.
“Where are you taking me?”
She didn’t reply until she stopped in front of a staircase. “Lounge. Up there, just don’t tell anyone you’re not from first class, or that I let you go up, okay?”
“You sure? Don’t want you to get in any trouble on my account,” William said, with a mischievous smile.
“Yeah, probably won’t be but a handful of people up there, anyway.”
“Thanks.”
She sighed wistfully, as she watched him walking up the stairs, wishing it wasn’t unprofessional for her to ask for his phone number. Or that she wasn’t already married.
“Married, not dead,” she reminded herself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
William pulled himself up to his full height as he entered, trying to look as though he belonged, but nobody paid him any mind. There were nary a dozen or so patrons in the whole place. The warm, neutral tones, offset by the deep, rich wood of the bar and furnishings gave a cozy feel to the spacious lounge.
He chose a seat at the bar, and looked at the long list of beers they offered. He though of getting a Harp or Guinness, but chose Coors. Not because he actually preferred the taste, but because the first time he’d had one was when they’d camped in Colorado at Mesa Verde.
William didn’t notice right away, but an older man sitting at a nearby table turned to look at him, when he gave the bartender his order.
Trained by the hard lessons these last few months had schooled him in, coupled with his stint at Ipso Facto, William soon felt himself being watched. He looked up at the mirror, and caught the man's angry eyes as they stared at him. The man finally looked away, but it left him with a disquieted feeling. The man’s voice rose from across the room, but couldn't make out what he was saying. The others at his table, appeared to be trying to calm him down, as they surreptitiously glanced William's way every now and again. The uneasy feeling didn’t leave, until he saw the others appear to escort the man back out of the lounge, and back down to the cabin.
“Want another?”
William looked at the clock behind the bar. He wasn’t really drinking the one he had in front of him, but he had been sitting there for nearly an hour. He nodded, and the man dumped his old one, and brought him a second can.
“Is it alright if I go and sit in that booth?” he asked, pointing toward the far wall.
“Sure,” the bartender said, starting to pour the beer into a plastic cup.
“That’s alright, I’ll have the can.”
“Sorry, can’t let you; same reason there are no bottles allowed on the plane.”
“Oh, right,” he said, picking up the cup of beer he hadn’t really wanted in the first place, except for the memory it conjured. Now it might as well be a cup of warm piss as far as he was concerned.
He made his way across the room, and to the booth. William didn’t realize how tense he’d been, until he felt his back relax into the well-made seat. As was his habit, he always carried around a small notebook with him in order to write down things as they occurred to him, whether it be a piece of a poem stuck in his mind, or just a reminder. Of course, in this world, Palm Pilots, Blackberries, and the like had taken the place of pen and paper, but he was still most comfortable with those.
His concession to the new age was his cell phone and computer, but he never imagined he’d find enjoyment in reading an eBook, rather than the feeling a real one in his hands gave him. He never considered trying to type out his thoughts and feelings on a machine. Computers were fine for reports, research, and even email. In his most personal musings, however, he needed the physical sensation of seeing his words, scripted by his own hand appear on paper. Besides, his handwriting was something he was rather proud.
Of course, finding inspiration was another thing, especially when he was depressed. Pen poised in the air, he sat there staring at the notebook not knowing quite where to begin.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
William hadn’t realized he’d dozed off until he awoke to find the same old man who had been staring at him when he was at the bar, now sitting opposite him in the booth.
“What do you want?” William asked him.
“I know who you are. I’ve remembered you ever since that night in New York!”
“What night? What are you talking about?” William asked, now alarmed.
“The night you killed my wife!”
“The night I...? What? I’ve never met you! I don’t know what you’re talking about?” William said, paling.
“Oh, you know very well. You think I could forget your face? Your face is forever etched into my memory, my nightmares! Everytime I see a picture of Elaine, I see your face breaking my wife’s neck! My beautiful wife,” he cried out.
Shaking, William stood up, just as a man and a woman approached the table.
“Joe! What are you doing? Is he bothering you?” asked the woman.
“It’s him! I tell you it’s him! He’s the one who killed your mother! Him and the black haired woman,” he said to the middle-aged man.
“It was him! Him and the black haired woman,” he yelled, looking around as if he had missed seeing her somewhere.
“Dad! Look at him, he’s almost half my age! How could he have killed mom back in ’65? He wouldn’t have even been born then? How old are you?” he asked William.
“Twenty-nine,” William breathed out, barely above a whisper.
“I don’t care what he says! It’s him! It’s his face, same hair, same coat, even the same scar!”
William lifted his hand to his eyebrow unconsciously.
“You see that? He knows!”
William shook his head, just as another man who was in their group approached.
“Get dad back downstairs, he’s causing a scene. Dad thinks this is the man who killed mom.”
The man took one look at William, and rolled his eyes.
“Dad, the man would be old like you by now. This man wasn’t even born when mom died!”
“That’s what I told him,” the other son said.
“It’s him I tell you, it’s him!” he yelled, as the second man and woman led him away. Thankfully, the bar was empty by now, except for the bartender.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that. My dad has early-stage Alzheimer’s, and he doesn’t know what he’s saying. I’m Joe Green, by the way; same as my dad.”
William didn’t say anything. The man cleared his throat, finally.
“Look, can I buy you a drink or something? You look like you could use one.”
William shook his head, “No. Thank you. I think I’ll just...go back to my seat.”
“Okay. Again, I’m really sorry about that. If there’s anything...”
“No; nothing,” William said, as he shakily made his way to the stairs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
9:00AM
LONDON
“Damn!” Giles said, slamming down the phone.
This morning wasn’t going at all like he’d hoped. First he’d been awaken in the middle of the night by Wesley telling him that William was arriving on his own, which necessitated someone being on hand to meet him at the airport. Secondly, he’d waited three long and very painful weeks to get in to see his dentist, and now the appointment was right during the time he should be going off to the airport. He’d hoped that another of the dentist’s patients would’ve been so kind as to change times with him, but so far it wasn’t looking good.
Looking in his Rolodex, he pulled out his cell phone, and called one of the potentials.
“Charlotte, how would you like to make a little trip to the airport for me?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
12:00 NOON
LONDON
“’cuse me,” Giles said, as he reached into his pocket for his phone, his mouth full of cotton, tongue and lips numb from anesthetic.
“Your car, what? Damnbit!” Giles grumbled. “No. I know, Charlotte. Can’t be helped... I’ll go...I dust hope William waits ‘til I can get dhere.”
With a quick, effusively mumbled apology to the dentist, Giles hurried out of the office, and hopped into his car, praying that traffic wouldn’t hinder him more than necessary. Too bad that the London City Airport was only used by those flying in for business from around the country; that would’ve been perfect.
“Damnb’d wampire!” he cursed, as traffic slowed to a crawl on the M4 Motorway. “Damnb’d fawmer wampire,” Giles begrudgingly corrected himself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
William sat in his seat for the rest of the trip; afraid to even gets up to use the bathroom, lest he run into the old man again.
The old man’s words played again and again in his head; fearing that what he’d said had been true. Was he, rather Spike in New York back then? He feared it could’ve easily been so. How many others had he killed? People who were someone’s wife, husband, brother, sister, or child? How many families had he torn apart? How many people had he killed, as Spike, for over one hundred years?
Hundreds?
Thousands even?
How many had died because of him?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
12:00 NOON
HEATHROW AIRPORT
London had always been huge. In fact, it ranked as the world’s largest city when last he’d been there. However, even given the fact that he’d never seen it from the air, he was literally gobsmacked at what he was now seeing, as the plane came in for a landing.
William sat and waited, until he was sure everyone from rows ahead of him were already off before retrieving his bag from the overhead, containing the laptop and some other personal items, and making his way into the airport.
Fifteen minutes later, after going through customs, he made his way to the baggage area. After retrieving his suitcase, he made his way back to the terminal where he’d seen people greeting those who had arrived. Half an hour later, he was still sitting there, and everyone else had found their friends and loved ones and departed. He found Mr. Giles’ number, and after figuring out how to use his cell phone in England (no overseas extensions to dial) he called his home. There was no answer; nor was there one at his office, but he left a voice mail.
William finally decided to go outside the terminal and have a smoke.
Giles was in a lane of traffic across from the British Airways terminal when he spotted him. Stunned, he slowed down for a better look. Of course he knew from Buffy’s phone call, after she’d seen William in Los Angeles, that he’d changed his looks, but Giles had still expected to see the man he’d met last year. Instead he was staring at the splitting image of the vampire that had died over six years ago. An impatient horn sounded behind him, and he hurriedly rolled down the window.
“Spike,” he started to call, then stopped. Louder, he called out across the lanes of traffic, “William!”
Fumbling in his coat for a cigarette, William had just found his lighter, when he heard his name called. He looked across the double airport lanes of traffic, and there was Mr. Giles. William waved toward him
“Stay there, I’ll be there straight away!” Mr. Giles yelled, maneuvering the car to the inner lane, so he could make a U-turn. A few minutes later he pulled up to the curb.
“Get in before I get a ticket!” Mr. Giles said, his mouth still numb, but better.
“Right,” William answered, quickly throwing his luggage in the back seat. Mr. Giles pulled out, before his door was shut.
“I trust you had a good trip?”
“Yes, I...” William started to answer, then looked at him strangely. The side of Mr. Giles face was swollen up. “Are you alright, Mr. Giles?”
“Me? Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked until he saw William eyeing the side of his face. He rolled his eyes.
“Ah yes...that,” he said, and went on to explain the predicament he’d found himself in.
“I’m sorry, I should’ve just taken a cab...”
“Nonsense, it wasn’t your doing. Oh, and William?” Giles asked, as he watched the younger man looking out the car windows with a combination of shock and awe.
“Yes?”
“Welcome to London.”
END CHAPTER 175