ONE NORMAL LIFE / TWO EXTRAORDINARY LIVES

CHAPTER 178 – WHAT YOU’RE HERE TO DETERMINE

NOVEMBER 26, 2009
WEDNESDAY
9:00AM

Mrs. Greeves looked up, surprised to see William dressed, and coming down the stairs, much before his usual time.

"Good morning, Mrs. Greeves," he said, with a slight bow to her.

"Good morning, Mr. Worthington. Mr. Giles just left," she said. Then adding in a mildly accusatory tone, "After he had his breakfast; though I did keep yours warm, as I always do."

"Thank you," William said, quietly sighing to himself. He'd told Giles to tell Mrs. Greeves not to bother doing that for him, but obviously she still was, and resenting the fact.

"Shall I set a place for you, then?" she asked, stiffly.

Deeply disturbed by last evening’s session with Giles, compounded by being unable to sleep all night, William had just wanted to leave as soon as possible; waiting only until Giles had left first. Now facing Mrs. Greeves, he reluctantly decided his abrupt departure wasn't worth further aggravating her, "Thank you, that would be very kind of you," he said with a tight smile.

She nodded briefly, muttering to herself as she went back into the kitchen.

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

"Thank you for breakfast, Mrs. Greeves. It was very good," William said, as he wiped his mouth on his napkin, and moved his chair away from the table.

"You're welcome," she said curtly, starting to clear his place.

William picked up his coat from the chair he'd laid it on in the corner, and slipped into it. He then took something from its pocket. He cleared his throat. "Would you please give this to Mr. Giles when you see him at dinner?" he asked, handing her a note.

"You won't be back then?" she asked, looking suspiciously at both the note, and him.

"Um...no. I'm going to go exploring about town a bit today. Tell Mr. Giles I'll likely be back by this evening, then? Oh, and you needn't hold dinner or supper for me, Mrs. Greeves."

"Very well," she said, turning away.

Relieved, William picked up his backpack, and headed for the door.

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

Though his destination was more or less due north, William walked northeastward, following King George Street, until he came to Greenwich Park. He preferred the bit of serenity it afforded him, even if it was a less direct route. Loosely following King William Avenue, he neared the expanse of palatial buildings that made up the Old Royal Naval Colleges and Greenwich University, then cut back west, until he found Greenwich Church Street. Checking the small map and the notes he’d made, William walked north again until he came to NatWest Bank.

Often lost in his own musings as 'William,' he was sometimes still taken aback to see 'Spike,' when suddenly confronted with his own image. Thus was the case, when he saw himself reflected in the bank's window. Self-consciously, he took off his leather coat, folding it over his arm, and straightening out the gray pullover shirt he was wearing.

“I’m looking for Mr. Nelson,” he told the receptionist.

“Do you have an appointment?”

William nodded, and gave his name.

“Right this way, Mr. Worthington,” she said, leading him across the bank’s shiny, marbled floor until he was shown into an exterior office.

A few minutes later, a door opened and Mr. Nelson showed William inside.
He made small talk with William about his coming back to England for a few minutes, before getting down to business.

“I spoke to your solicitor, Lawrence McKennitt, in California yesterday; he arranged a transfer of around $15,000 in U.S. dollars for you, which amounts to close to £8,000 British Pounds.”

William swallowed trying not to show how uncomfortable he was with what would have been a small fortune back in his day. Not to mention, the hugely vaster amount he was actually worth; or the way he'd come by it.

Mr. Nelson studied William. He studied everyone - it came with the job, and he prided himself on his acumen. Money exerted not only economic effects on people, but psychological and emotional, as well. Using all three, he could usually read people with an exceptional degree of accuracy. He could tell old money from new, legal gains from illegal ones, and inherited from earned wealth; all in the many telltale signs a person presented with, if one only knew what to look for.

However, William Worthington was more than a bit intriguing. The young man's solicitor had given the impression that his money was quite old, inherited. Yet, the young man was almost reacting to it - or rather trying not to - as if it were illegal gains, and odder still over such a piddling amount.

Mr. Nelson cleared his throat. “Mr. McKennitt didn’t know how long you were going to be in England. He thought that you might need that much to get started with; if you decided to purchase or lease an auto while you were here, or if you intended to rent a flat."

When William still didn't respond, he continued. "However, if your stay is to be of a relatively short duration, then may I suggest you put a portion of your funds into a short term, but higher interest account?”

“I’m not sure right now,” William finally said, after Mr. Nelson had talked about the various funds for a while. “I think I just want to get the basic accounts set up today, if that’s alright.”

“Very well, Mr. Worthington,” he said, passing over to William the necessary paperwork to sign. “I’ll just go and draw up some temporary cheques for your use, and have you issued an ATM card, and you’ll be all set.”

“Thank you,” William said. He leaned back in the leather armchair to wait, recalling his conversation with Lawrence yesterday.

To Lawrence’s credit, he hadn’t acted very surprised to hear from William, or to learn that he was in England. Keeping to business, he asked him how long he planned to stay, found him a bank close by, and made all the arrangements. His only personal concession was to tell William he hoped he’d be returning soon, that Edna missed him. He’d also volunteered to call and check on Elizabeth. William gratefully assented, but asked Lawrence to keep his whereabouts confidential for now.

Mr. Nelson soon returned with the cheques and an ATM credit/debit card.

“I’m glad you were able to make it in today, rather than tomorrow, Mr. Worthington,” Mr. Nelson said.

William looked at him questioningly.

“The banks aren’t open in The States tomorrow,” he explained. “It’s their Thanksgiving’s Day.”

“Yes, it is,” William said softly, at once reminded of where he was a year ago.

Still unsettled after leaving the bank, William walked the few blocks to the electronics store Giles had told him about, where he could get a wireless card to adapt Elizabeth’s laptop, in order to get online from the house on Winforton.

He was in luck, as the person who had an appointment with the computer technician had to cancel, William was able to be helped right away.

“You’ll just be needing to be within a quarter of a mile’s receiving distance to a good signal in order to get onto the Internet,” the technician said, logging on to show him.

“Is there a list showing where the signals are best?”

“You staying here in Greenwich?” asked the multiple pierced and tattooed young man, with an accent, which spoke of East End.

“Yes, not far from here,” William answered.

“Shouldn’t be a problem then mate; they’re all over Greenwich. Only thing might be if you go further out. I’ve been told that signals are hard to come by in Black Heath, and along the southwest corner of the Greenwich Park. Otherwise, you’ll probably be able to pick up a signal from anywhere around here."

William thanked him, and left, heading over to Greenwich University. As he did, he couldn’t help but notice the beginnings of the holiday season in the storefront windows. Although much less of a to-do here than in The States, there were still telltale signs about; an Advent Calendar in a stationary shop window, a small ceramic Father Christmas, and a woman using a machine to blow fake snow into a storefront display window.

William hurried toward the campus, walking around the vast grounds for a long while. He asked a couple sitting on a bench where he could find the library. They had laughed, and asked, "Which one?" After asking him what his field of interest was, they directed him to Dreadnought.
As he approached the library from the south side, William slowed to a halt. Cocking his head to the side, he studied the light-colored building, pondering why it seemed so familiar to him. He continued toward the two-storied archway, stopping before the main doorway to read a plaque detailing its history from the 1760's through the1990's.
Starting as The Royal Naval Hospital Infirmary, it then became The Dreadnought Seamen's Hospital for merchant marines. Its next to last incarnation had been as a National Health Service specialty hospital. Then, after falling into an advanced state of disrepair, it was renovated, and converted to a library in the late 1990's by the University of Greenwich.
William at once realized why it seemed so familiar. When he was ten, his father had brought him here to visit a great uncle, who had lived there as one of the permanent patients for a number of years.
"I'm afraid that I haven't kept up my promise to your grandmother very well," his father said, as way of explanation.
"What promise was that, da?" William had asked.
"I promised her that I'd look in on her brother, Alfred, my uncle, from time-to-time. It's just I have so little time; even with you and your mum as it is, I'm afraid..." his father had replied, with a guilt laden sigh.
William had remembered his eyes growing huge as he was introduced to the, grizzled old man, without any legs. Alfred Worthington, however, was still quite sharp, and what's more, full of stories. William was soon mesmerized by the maritime tales his great-uncle told of his glory days with The Royal Navy.
"How did you lose your legs?" William had blurted out after a particularly rousing story of a fight the ship he'd been stationed on, had with pirate's ship.
"William!" his father had scolded, "mind your manners!"
"Ah...that's alright," Alfred had said, with an indulgent grin. He winked at the youngster. "However, young William, I think I shall save that particular, harrowing story for your next visit. What say you? Will you come back to visit your old uncle sometime?"
William had looked at his father, who had smiled, and nodded.
"Yes sir!" William said, happily.
All the way home, William had excitedly talked about his uncle and his tales; making his father promise to take him back to see his Uncle Alfred again.
However, for the next couple of years, his dad was away from home for longer periods of time than ever before and then he was dead. He never saw his great-uncle Albert again, nor learned how he'd lost legs.
The last thing William remembered hearing about his Uncle Alfred in the late 1860's was that the Royal Naval Hospital was closing, and that his uncle was being transferred to another facility in Scotland.
The interior of the building was reminiscent of a ship’s deck-like structure, with horizontal pierced beams supporting the main glass roofs. William asked a woman at the enquiry desk where the literature department was located.
"Take the lift or stairs up to the main library," she said, pointing him towards the colonnade where they were located.
William squinted in the bright light coming from all the windows, as he walked up from the stairs. A sunny, open space certainly wasn’t the sort of place he typically sought out when he thought of finding refuge in the familiar surroundings of books. Luckily, after finding the literature section, he walked through an archway, leading to the exterior areas. This part of the library - cooler, and darker, was much more to his liking.
He opened up one of the books he’d picked up, but his mind wouldn’t let allow him to concentrate on the words. Instead, he kept thinking back to the last few days.
After the first evening which he’d spoken to Giles about the night he’d been turned, their conversations had mostly been in general terms about demons, and of course, vampires. He knew that Giles had been waiting for him to ask specific questions about himself, about Spike. Yet, despite the fact he’d traveled across an ocean, leaving behind the person he most cherished in the world, he was terrified of finding out what the older man would tell him.

Finally, he’d mustering up his courage last night, and broached the subject he’d asked Giles about on his first day at the Council.

“I do have to preface this discussion by telling you that when you first came back to Sunnydale with your soul, I was still in London. Therefore, I can only go by what was told to me.”

“Please, just tell me what you do know. That’s all I ask; all I expect,” William said in a steady voice, belying the fact that Giles’ reluctance was feeding his own nervousness ten-fold.

“Tell me what The First wanted with me.”

Giles regarded William for a moment, finally nodding.

“Very well. It started after you’d come back from Africa; after getting your soul back. You were living in the basement of Sunnydale High School. From all accounts, from Buffy, as well as the others who saw you at that time, you were...” Giles paused to weigh his words carefully, but there were only so many words that would fit, “out of your mind.”

“Crazy, you mean?”

“For lack of a better adjective,” Giles said, apologetically. “Mentally, you were quite unstable; unhinged. Whether from the guilt weighing on your newly acquired soul, or being in such close proximity to the epicenter of The Hellmouth, it’s hard to say.”

“Why was I living in Sunnydale High’s basement? I thought I lived in a crypt,” William said, shuddering at the unimaginable and horrifying idea such a thing brought to mind.

Giles stopped, his brows knitted as he tried to recall something Buffy had told him from that time. Something about an explosion, perhaps? It was no use. At the time he'd returned to Sunnydale, his immediate concern was reining in Willow, and the dark powers she'd harnessed, not what had happened to Spike's crypt. The next time he'd returned his mind was then preoccupied with keeping the potential slayers safe from The First.

“I'm not sure,” Giles said, shaking his head. “Perhaps other vampires were squatting in your former...um, residence by then. If that were the case, I don’t think you were in any state of mind to fight for what was yours, as you normally would have.”

“But why there?” William asked, again.

"Likely,” Giles said in a clipped voice, “you just tried to find the nearest place to where Buffy was.” He’d tried to hide the contempt, which those memories of Spike served to bring up, the past being the past, after all. Unfortunately, he failed, before he could rein it in. William saw it, and looked down, shamed.

“Or you were drawn there by the concentrated evil; by The First manipulating you.”

“Why would I have been drawn to that? Didn’t my soul remove the desire to do evil?”

“I don’t know,” Giles said, shrugging. “You were still a vampire at that point, so I’m not sure that human standards can strictly be applied. Regardless, I’m afraid you and I could talk from here into eternity on the nature of what a soul does, and doesn’t do. My belief is that a soul doesn’t so much as remove the desire to do evil, as much as it lets one weigh good from evil, and allows us to feel empathy. That’s what I believe. If it were only a matter of removing the desire to do evil, or that a soul automatically guaranteed that every human being was a good person, it would be quite a different world, wouldn’t you say?”

William pondered this while Giles continued. “When Buffy became aware of your return, and your deteriorated state of mind, well, being who she is, as you’re well aware, she got you out of the school’s basement. I believe she enlisted Xander’s help, and he allowed you to live with him for a while.”

So that had been when he’d lived with Xander! He’d almost forgotten the story of them being roommates.

Giles proceeded to get up at this point, and pour them both a drink, as he organized how he was going to tell the next part of the story. He walked back to the sofa where William was sitting, and handed him the drink.

“Soon after, Buffy had an encounter with a vampire, who, before she killed him, told her that you’d sired him. A bit of research by the group confirmed many other people were turning up missing around that time, as well. All of them, people you killed, then sired.”

William paled. “I still killed...even with the soul?” he asked, a horror-stricken look on his face.

Giles nodded, “Yes. Apparently with The First manipulating you, and without the full benefit of the chip to stop you...”

“Chip?” William asked, wracking his brain. “You mean, soul? But I had the soul.”

“Um...no. A few years before that, the government’s special ops unit, called the Initiative, had captured you at one point...”

William let out a sigh, “Yeah, I remember now; Elizabeth told me about that. There’s just been so much,” William said his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m afraid I was too shocked to take it all in when I found out...”

“That’s alright. That’s why we’re talking now. We can take it as slow as you like, or we can stop for now if you’d prefer?”

William shook his head. “No, not yet. The government implanted a chip in my brain so I couldn’t kill humans. Only demons, right?”

“Yes, that’s correct. However, either the chip malfunctioned around the same time that The First had you kill and sire all those people, or it had a diminished effect.”

“But why?” William asked, his voiced pained, “Why me?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps The First saw you as...,” Giles hesitated for a moment, “... a weak link. With your soul weighing heavily on you, and your gratuitous association with The Slayer - with Buffy. I suppose all those reasons gave The First grounds to try to manipulate you. The First, itself, is non-corporeal. It has to have someone, or something, do its evil bidding for it."

“A weak link,” William repeated softly. “It wanted me to kill Elizabeth, so it could what? Take over the world?”

“Yes, but killing Buffy was only part of its grand plan. It knew that even if Buffy were killed, another Slayer would rise. It wanted to destroy the entire slayer line, which stood between it, and the rest of the world.”

“Then I can almost understand, if it had wanted me to hurt Elizabeth, since she was The Slayer, or even if it had set me loose on the potential slayers. What I don’t understand is why have me kill all those other, innocent people?”

Giles shook his head; “I don’t know. Maybe just because it could, or it had to make sure that the trigger worked.”

“Trigger?”

“Yes, like a post-hypnotic suggestion. I believe your trigger was a song - Early One Morning, that it used; you only had to hear it...”

“Early One Morning? That was a song my mother...” William stopped, looking wide-eyed at Giles.

“Yes, it was. Obviously, there was some sort of negative association with your mother...”

“NO! There wasn’t!” William yelled. “I loved my mother, and she loved me!” He scrambled to his feet, and staggered towards the door.

“What do you remember?” Giles asked, following William out into the hallway.

“Only that I loved my mum, and that she loved me. But I...I know what I did. Drusilla; she made sure she told me when she came to Julian. Made sure to...” William put his hands to his head, as the memories of her terrorizing him came flooding back, along with the sickening truths she’d spoken. William looked up at Giles suddenly; bile rising up in his throat, as it dawned on him just what he was suggesting.

“I didn’t mean to...Oh, God! The First used what I did...to my mum, to make me kill again, didn’t it?”

Giles nodded slowly, “Yes, I’m sorry William, that does appear to be how The First got you to do it’s bidding. For a while, you didn’t have any realization of what you were doing when under its control. To your credit, as soon as you did, you notified Buffy. While she was trying to figure out what was going on, she chained you up in order to try to protect any more innocents who you might try to harm, and that’s when The First kidnapped you.”

"Why?"

“I don’t know. Perhaps because it wasn’t happy that you'd partly broken its hold on you by yourself. The other reason being that it wanted your blood to open up the Seal of Danthazar, in order to release the Turok-han."

"The what?" William asked, more confused than ever.

Giles backtracked, explaining the seal's significance, what it's opening signified, and the Turok-han.

"The Turok-han was a vampire. Not one sired from a human, as you were, but a pure vampire: a killing machine. A vampire other vampires feared. Of course, it came after the potential slayers, and succeeded in killing one of them. In fact, it very nearly killed Buffy. Never in all my years as her Watcher, had I seen her so bloodied, so beaten, so..." he abruptly stopped, seeing William's ashen face. He quickly added, "However, like all other so-called, undefeatable monsters Buffy had come up against, she prevailed, and defeated it."

"Where was I?" he asked, barely able to get the words out. " Was I still...killing?"

Giles shook his head. "No. You weren't. The First had you for weeks, torturing you; trying to break you. Buffy came for you, as soon as she defeated the Ubervamp; she rescued you.”

William slipped down the wall he was leaning upon, as the full gravity of her words came back to him: “I'll always come for you”. Hugging his legs to himself, he wept, for himself, and for his brave girl - she who had been called upon to face the darkness, and the horror. Called upon to be The Slayer by outside forces, she wasn’t given a choice in her own destiny.

And yet by choice, she’d faced the darkness in order to save him.

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

NOVEMBER 26, 2009
WEDNESDAY

2:30PM

Giles sighed, as he looked at the empty desk across the room. When he'd gone home for lunch earlier, Mrs. Greeves had handed him a note from William. It had said that he wouldn't be accompanying him to the office this afternoon. Instead, it stated he wanted to spend the day exploring Greenwich on his own. Giles strongly suspected it had more to do with the events of the past couple of days.

As much as he'd tried to shield William from what was sure to be their curiosity, it hadn't taken long before William's presence was noticed by the slayers-in-training. Giles had been careful about bringing William back to the office with him in the afternoons, when most of the slayers were either still in classes, or out in the field, with their Watchers.

Their discovery of the ex-vampire in their midst, had come two days ago, when Giles had asked the younger man to take a box of files out to his car before they left for the day. As William was heading out the door, he'd run smack into a group of slayers returning from their outing. Having just recently completed a course on the most infamous vampires in history, there was a collective gasp from the girls.

"You! You're him!" said one of the slayers, coming to a dead stop.

Another slayer, sporting an odd-looking hat atop her head, stepped forward.
"No way! I was there! This can’t be him; Spike's dead! He died closing The Hellmouth. What the hell are you? Are you The First?"

William’s eyes grew large, as the girl who’d just spoken, drew a stake out of her jacket and advanced on him. He backed up, holding the box in front of him, in a death grip.

From his office, Giles heard the commotion, and quickly came running.

"Stop!" he'd yelled from the stairs. "Don't hurt him!”

All eyes turned towards Giles.

"It's The First, Giles, he’s posing as Spike," she said, looking back towards William.

"If it were The First, then what the bloody hell good would that stake do?" Giles asked sternly.

Vi looked down at her stake, then at William, then at Giles.

"Then this really is Spike?" Vi asked Giles, a look of trepidation on her face.

"Well, yes. I mean, he was Spike. He's human now, for God's sake," Giles said, coming over, and divesting her of the stake. "Can't you tell that much, you silly bint?"

She opened her mouth to protest, then shut it again. It was true; her slayer senses hadn’t been alerted to the presence of a vampire, as much as she’d reacted to the surprise of seeing Spike, right there in front of her.

"Spike?" Vi asked, looking at him in wonder. She may have been frightened of him when she'd been living in Sunnydale, but she knew he'd died a hero.

"Um...William," he corrected, with a small nod.

A squeal went up from Vi; “Oh my God! How? When?” she asked. Suddenly, the whole gaggle of slayers had surrounding him, some touching him, those from Sunnydale hugging him, all asking him questions at once.

"Enough!" Giles said, trying to pull them off of an astounded and embarrassed William.

"Girls, I'm afraid I haven't been very forthcoming about my guest."

"Duh!" said one of the slayers towards the back. Giles shot her a look.

"How about if we meet you in the training room in a few minutes, I just need to talk to William first," he said, with a nod towards the shell-shocked, former vampire.

"I'm sorry, William. I should've known I couldn't bring you here of all places, and keep your identity a secret for long," Giles said.

“I take it I knew some of them?” William asked, still stunned at the turn of event.

“Yes, a few of them.”

“What do you want to do?”

It was decided that for now, Giles would meet with them alone; explaining as best he could, as briefly as he could how Spike had come back, and excluding the most personal information about his relationship with Buffy.

William would walk the few blocks to the Trafalgar Tavern to wait for Giles.

The girls had been disappointed when only Giles appeared, but he impressed upon them, that William had only recently learned of his past, and that he was still getting adjusted to such a momentous, shattering discovery.

“Girls, I wanted to tell you that you are not to say anything to anybody what-so-ever, about seeing Spike here today. Not even, the other slayers who aren’t here right now. Is that quite clear?” he asked as the meeting drew to a close.

“Why?” asked one of the slayers.

Giles turned to regard her, staring at her until she finally looked away.

“Because,” he said slowly, “I’m asking you to both, obey me on this, and to protect and respect Spike’s...er, William’s privacy and identity. He deserves as much. Six and a half years ago, Spike died closing The Hellmouth, in order to save the world; and therefore saving all of you in the process. I think that’s more than enough reason, don’t you?” Giles asked looking around at each of them.

Solemnly, they all nodded their heads.

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

Then, last night...

Giles had felt helpless, as he looked down to where William sat, shoulders quivering with the silent tears.

Walking off, he came back a few minutes later, having filled William’s glass with a fresh drink.

“Guess I should be remiss if I didn’t include my role in a particular part of this story, as well,” he’d said, holding out the drink to William.

Wiping his eyes on his sleeve, William had looked up, questioningly, as he accepted the glass.

Giles then told him of his part in the conspiracy with Robin Wood to kill him, after trying to find the root of the trigger’s power, by using the Prokaryote stone he’d acquired.

“Elizabeth never told me that,” William said, softly. “Just a bit about Wood, and his mother.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“I don’t blame you,” he said, looking Giles in the eyes, “I was a vampire. Even with a soul, I’d still recently been killing. What with The First holding the trigger, that would seem like a big risk to Elizabeth, and the rest of ‘em. An unacceptable risk in any book.”

Inwardly, Giles winced. Ah, the sweet irony of the former vampire, finally agreeing with, what had been his most ardent belief at the time; not lost on him.

“If it’s any consolation to you, I was wrong. Quite wrong, as things turned out; if you hadn’t been there...”

William cut him off. “Someone else would’ve been the ‘hero of the piece.’ Wasn’t he the one meant to wear it? Wasn’t it given to him?” William asked, through gritted teeth. Though he didn’t say his name, Giles knew whom he meant.

William closed his eyes, trying to imagine him in his place with Elizabeth, him sharing what they’d had, him trying to kill them both. Unconsciously, his hands balled into fists.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Yes, Angel did bring the amulet to Sunnydale, and offer to be the bearer of it, but Buffy refused his offer. You were her...” Giles stopped, trying to find the words he’d never been able to give voice to before, without choking on them. “You were her hero, her partner. You were the one she... loved, and wanted by her side, not Angel. If she’d wanted him there, he would’ve been. Therefore, I can only surmise, that it was you who were meant to be the ‘hero of the piece,’ as you put it.”

William swallowed, tears starting to sting his eyes again.

“I think this would be a good place to stop for now, don’t you?” Giles asked gently.

William nodded, slowly standing up.

Giles took his glass from him, and started toward the kitchen to put them into the sink. William took his cue, and started up the stairs on unsteady legs.

“Oh, before I forget, when I refer to Spike as ‘you,’ I do hope you know that I do make a distinction between what you were, and what you are now,” Giles said.

William stopped, halfway up to the second floor, “And what is it that I am now, Giles?” he asked, his voice plaintive.

Giles stared at him for a moment. “I’d venture to say that you’re a good man.”

“I don’t know if that’s true,” William countered. “I don’t feel like one.”

“Well, I guess that’s what you’re here to determine. Goodnight, William,” he said, with a small nod.

“Goodnight, Giles.”


END CHAPTER 178