ONE NORMAL LIFE / TWO EXTRAORDINARY LIVES
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BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
210
Views:
11,908
Reviews:
182
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Category:
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
210
Views:
11,908
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.
THE GAME
CHAPTER 184 - THE GAME
DECEMBER 17, 2009
WEDNESDAY
GREENWICH
The week prior to the game had been quite busy for Giles. He’d been fielding calls regarding some new slayers who had been located in the Congo. Not only was language a problem, but the fact that civil unrest was a way of life there didn’t exactly make for an easy way to reach the new slayers; communication being sketchy at the best of times.
Although he’d tried his best to attract and train new watchers, it hadn’t been easy. At best, it was a crash course, compared to all the field knowledge that had been lost when The First had decimated their ranks. For the whole of Africa, there were only a half-dozen trained watchers for the possibly hundreds or more slayers throughout the continent, when they could’ve used ten, twenty, even thirty times that number. Giles sighed, knowing there would never be an adequate number, nor would it ever be possible to find them all. It depressed him to think of all those young women, not knowing what they were, or what had happened to them. He only hoped that they would do the best they could, on the side of good, with the slayer strength they were bestowed with.
Wesley had called to say that he wouldn’t be able to make it until after the holidays, due to recent demon activity up in San Bernardino National Forest. He was sending some of his slayers, and wanted to be there with them if they needed assistance.
“If it doesn’t take too long to resolve the problem, I could still come,” Wesley had said.
“No, you’re right, of course. Your duty is to the slayers under your watch, and their mission.”
“I could send the scrolls containing the Shanshu prophecy ahead, if you wish,” Wes suggested. “Then when I am able to get there, I can further lend a hand in it’s translation, if you haven’t been able to...”
“No, it will hold until then. I’d feel better if the original scrolls didn’t leave your hands,” Giles said, though he’d been anxious to see it firsthand. “By the way, I’ll send you one of the Council’s Emergency Death Certificates that you can give to the airline, so they’ll credit you for the next flight.”
“Thank you, Giles,” Wes said. He smiled to himself, knowing that was as much for the Council’s benefit as much as his own since they, hence Giles, paid for his airfare.
“You’ll let me know if you need any assistance?” Giles queried.
“I will. I don’t know if you told William that I was coming, but when you speak to him, do wish him a happy holiday for me, would you?”
“I’ll be glad to pass it along. He knew you were coming, but not why, of course. I think William will be a bit disappointed; he seems rather fond of you.”
“It’s mutual,” Wes said, thinking of the unassuming young man he’d spent only a few hours with. “Rather odd to be speaking of the former William the Bloody this way, isn’t it? Who would’ve ever thought...?”
“Yes, quite, ”Giles replied, thinking it even odder to have him as an invited house guest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Giles had also been busy with after hours shopping. Not for Christmas shopping, which he hadn’t even thought to do as of yet, but for the upcoming Chelsea game this weekend.
After work one evening, he’d taken himself and a very reluctant William, to a sports shop in nearby Black Heath. The shop, crowded with holiday shoppers, carried sweatshirts, T-shirts, jackets, caps, shot glasses, mugs, thermoses, posters, books, pendants, and every other conceivable team memento in all sizes, shapes, and colors.
Giles did feel a pang of guilt or two, for buying here, rather than at the Stamford Bridge Stadium shop. However, above all else, he was a practical and prudent man.
“What are you doing?” Giles asked, finding William a few rows away looking at the opposing team’s gear.
“I was thinking about purchasing this,” William said, holding up a Manchester United pullover.
“I would seriously advise against that,” Giles said.
“Why?” William asked, taken aback.
“Because you’re likely to sustain serious bodily harm, if you were to consider wearing that, while sitting with Blues supporters,” Giles explained, as if to a child.
“Then I’ll sit with the Manchester United ones,” William said petulantly. He didn’t quite understand the strong feelings he had for ManU himself. He’d only seen a few games with John last year and only caught one since he’d been here. Still, they ‘felt’ like his team.
Giles felt his patience beginning to wear thin. His mind went back to when Spike, as his obstinate houseguest in Sunnydale, would not only eat his snacks, but also drink his best scotch, and irritate him to no end by prattling on about Manchester United.
“Oh, bollocks I say to Manchester, and to that wanker Beckham, too!” Giles had yelled at Spike one day, slamming his glass down so hard on the coffee table that it shattered. The vampire had just gotten on his last nerve going on about the great and mighty Red Devils as they were watching a game, where Manchester was thoroughly trouncing Arsenal. If they lost to Manchester, it would also knock Chelsea out of getting to the championship playoffs completely.
Spike just smirked in that irritating way of his.
Darkly, Giles considered that there wasn’t enough Glenlivet in all of Southern California to make Spike living with him even barely tolerable. Not to mention, getting smashed while in the proximity of a vampire, even a chipped one, wasn’t the brightest of ideas.
“Think I might just sire Beckham,” Spike went on, goading Giles. This, back before Beckham had sold out to Spain.
“How the hell is he going to play then without turning to dust, you berk?” Which actually might have been interesting, if you were watching from the opposing stands. The other teams would surely have a new ditty to taunt Manchester with, by the next time they faced them.
“He can play night games,” Spike said. “And then he can just eat his opponents, after he kicks their asses.”
“Oh, that’s just bloody brilliant,” Giles said, looking away with disgust.
“Yeah...is, innit?” Spike had replied, looking mightily pleased with himself.
One thousand one, one thousand two...when Giles reached ten, he continued.
“My dear William," Giles said with a forced smile. "I’m afraid that simply isn’t an option, since seat numbers and sections are already designated on the tickets the girls bought for me."
"Oh..."
"You will try to behave yourself, won’t you? I don't ask for my own sake, but for your safety. Footy supporters can and do sometimes get out of hand in the heat of the moment."
William stiffened. “Of course I will. You needn’t worry at all about that.”
“Well...good."
“I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful; it’s very generous of you to offer to take me to the game at all,” William said. Although he meant it, the nearer the day loomed, the more he was filled with trepidation. He simply hadn’t the fortitude to decline the invitation in the first place, especially since Giles had seemed so keen on having him accompany him.
William had thought of an out by offering his ticket to Wesley when he arrived, thus, having it appear as a good-faith gesture on his part, rather than anything else. Of course, that plan had fallen apart now that Wesley wasn’t going to be able to make it. For personal reasons, Wesley’s cancellation saddened him; it would have been nice to see a familiar face from California, even if it wasn’t the one whose face he longed to see. Furthermore, for the few hours they’d spent together William had felt at ease talking to Wesley, more so in a way, than he did talking to Giles.
Of course, the very nature of many of their talks was quite agonizing for him, considering it was all about his, or rather, Spike’s past. William was unsure these days if there was indeed any distinction worth making anymore between the two. Also, knowing his and Giles’ past history had been antagonistic, while one of the very reasons he'd sought him out; since he would be less likely to soft pad the truth, also kept him wary. Although the watcher tried not to show it, sometimes William thought he could sense an undercurrent of...dislike? Then again, he might have been projecting his own self-loathing these days.
Giles felt a stab of guilt for having just dealt with William out of the piqued feelings that thinking of Spike had brought up, rather than the issue at hand. He took a quiet, deep breath, and made a concerted effort to focus on the man in front of him.
“I didn’t mean to come on so strong, either,” Giles apologized. He hesitated, then gave William an awkward pat on the shoulder.
“You didn’t. You were well within your right to warn me.”
“This whole football thing has gotten me feeling strangely,” Giles said with a soft laugh. “Now, let’s check out, shall we?”
William nodded, putting down the Manchester shirt.
“No, I insist,” Giles said, picking it back up, “In fact, I’d like to purchase it for you.”
“That’s not necessary,” William protested, shaking his head vigorously.
“I know that; think of it as an early Christmas gift. Just don’t wear it to the game on Saturday, alright?” Giles said, with a conspiratorial wink.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
DECEMBER 19, 2009
FRIDAY
2:00PM
There was a knot in William’s stomach that had been increasing in intensity every day. He tried to examine what exactly it was that had him so on edge, but the harder he tried, the more futile it seemed. The only reason he knew he was still having nightmares was because he’d awaken in a cold sweat, with his heart pounding, unable to go back to sleep. William was terrified that this new development must portend some other level of Spike’s...his past monstrousness; so appalling, his mind refused him access to the memories.
That wasn’t quite true. There was one thing that wouldn’t leave him alone, awake or asleep.
Three hundred and sixty-five times one hundred and twenty.
Three hundred and sixty-five times one hundred and twenty.
Bring the zero down.
Two times five equals ten.
Carry the one.
Add the one...
After another sleepless night, William left early in the morning, even before Giles had arisen. He wandered through the park, before stopping to kill some time at a coffee shop near the university. The way he’d walked had helped him avoid the shopping district, which he was consciously trying to do as much as possible these days. He kept coming back to the skillfully mild, yet deceptively pointed question Giles asked him the other evening.
As they’d driven back from their shopping excursion William became aware of Giles clearing his throat a number of times. Having lived with him for a number of weeks, he took this as a telltale sign that the older man was about to bring up something that he most likely wouldn’t want to hear. He waited for the onslaught.
“William?”
“Yes, Giles?”
“Have you...um...spoken to Buffy lately?”
William shook his head.
“The reason I ask is, as you know the holidays are fast approaching,” Giles said, clearing his throat once more before continuing, “and I was just wondering what your plans were regarding her.”
“You mean am I going to call her? I...I hadn’t thought about it,” William said stiffly.
It wasn’t true. He’d spent an inordinate amount of time trying to avoid that very thing. Therefore, he’d been thinking of it almost constantly. How could he not, after last year?
William heard Giles take a deep breath before dropping the bomb.
“I was thinking that it might be the right time to let Buffy know where you are; you know she must be quite concerned,” Giles said, pausing a moment before continuing. “I realize you’re not ready to resume your prior living arrangement with her right now, but I thought that perhaps you might invite her here for the holidays. I’ve a connection at British Airways; one of the agent’s fathers used to work for the Council. I’m sure I could count on him to get her a decent flight, despite the late date, and I think it would do you both good to not be alone over the holidays. And if I might add, I’m not convinced your nightmares constitute an actual threat, or believe you’d be driven to act on them. However, if that’s your primary concern, that’s easily remedied by merely giving Buffy her own room so that the two of you aren’t alone at night if you feel she, or you, might be vulnerable at that...”
“No!” William said, adamantly shaking his head. “I can’t! I can’t see her now!”
Giles didn’t reply right away.
“And calling her?”
“I don’t know,” William said softly, after a few moments.
“I see.”
“I’m sorry,“ William said, looking over at Giles, as they waited for the light to change, “I know I’ve put you in a difficult position, but I’d be grateful it if you didn’t let Elizabeth know I’m here. Not yet, in any case.”
“You’ve not put me in any position, William. I put myself in it when I gave you my card last April, and asked that you call on me if you needed to. Does it bother me to harbor you, as it were, without Buffy’s knowledge? Yes, but for reasons that have more to do with past errors in judgement I’ve made in regards to my relationship with Buffy, than it does with you personally. I’m just afraid she won’t understand, and think that I’ve gone behind her back again. Which I guess, in a manner, I have,” Giles said, sighing. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Buffy throughout the years, is that she wholeheartedly resents having people take decision making out of her hands under the guise of it being for her own good, or in order to protect her.”
William swallowed. “I know. Do you think I wanted to leave her? Or that it’s not killing me to be without her? Or to know she must feel that I’m doing what every other man in her life has done to her?”
Caught up in his own grief, always so near to the surface; now erupted, William didn’t notice Giles’ wince.
“I promised her that I’d never leave her...” William said, his voice anguished.
“I’d say that if anyone had extenuating circumstances surrounding them it would be you, William. I’m sure Buffy understands that...” Giles offered.
“...then...all this...all that’s happened,” William continued, as if the other man hadn’t spoken, “I just don’t feel I have anything to offer Elizabeth right now. Not what she deserves to have, and I can’t risk hurting her further, in ANY way. Please, I can’t...”
“It’s alright, William,” Giles said, patting William’s arm, afraid the younger man was on the verge of hyperventilating, “I shan’t go against your wishes.”
“Thank you,” William said, letting out a sigh of relief.
“For what it’s worth, however, I do think you’re wrong.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After spending the next few hours at the Dreadnought Library, an exhausted William headed home in the early afternoon, knowing Giles would’ve already returned to the Council. A block from the house, he saw Mrs. Greeves boarding a bus. He sighed in relief, knowing he wouldn’t have to risk running into her and the silent disapproval he sometimes felt.
Upon entering, he could smell a mixture wood polish and laundry detergent, as well as what smelled of a roast still warming in the oven. Although his stomach gurgled hungrily at the aroma, he ignored it. Instead, he went upstairs hoping to manage to get a couple of hours of sleep.
Walking into his room, he immediately sensed something different. It only took him a few moments to realize that his room had been tidied and cleaned in his absence, and something else...
“No! You didn’t!” William shouted, running downstairs to the laundry room. The washing machine abruptly stopped agitating, as he threw open the lid. As he’d suspected, his sheets were in there. He dug around in the scalding water trying to find what he was looking for. Frustrated, he started pulled the out the sopping wet sheets one by one, transferring them to the nearby sink, but to no avail.
After replacing them and lowering the washer’s lid, he checked the dryer, again pulling out everything. Still not finding what he was looking for, he checked around the floor of the laundry room and behind the machines. Sure he hadn’t missed anything, he ran back up to his room, and looked under his pillows, then tore back the blankets and sheets.
“Where is it? What the hell did you do with it you meddling, old biddy?” William cursed at the departed housekeeper. Giles had asked him when he'd first arrived, if he wanted Mrs. Greeves to clean his room, and he'd told him he'd prefer to take care of it himself.
Panic was beginning to take hold of him. William felt like he was losing yet another piece of her, and with it, another piece of himself. All he seemed to have left was the looming truth of his past existence, blending into this one, and becoming one and the same.
Angrily, he pulled the sheets and blankets off the bed, fighting with them in impotent fury and tossing them into the middle of the room. Just as he was about to yank open the nightstand drawer to reassure himself that Elizabeth’s necklace and ring were still safely there, his eye caught sight of something sticking out from under the bed near the wall. Reaching under the bed, he pulled out Elizabeth’s white lace camisole. With a small sob of relief, he buried his face in it, inhaling deeply for any lingering scent. It was still there; just a bit, but still there, still her.
Emotionally and physically drained, William crawled to the pile of sheets and blankets he’d tossed off the bed, and collapsed onto them, falling almost immediately into a deep, troubled sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
DECEMBER 20, 2009
SATURDAY
BATH
7:00AM
"Willow, you didn't have to get up with me," Kennedy said, accepting the cup of coffee and toast that Willow handed her.
"I know, but I won't see you for a couple of days...but I'm probably just in your way this morning?" Willow asked, all of a sudden hesitant.
Their relationship had been under a lot of strain lately with Kennedy taking her finals, their work schedules, the upcoming separation that they once again would be experiencing over the holidays, and now this. Encouraged by Willow to go finish her degree, Kennedy had put her slaying studies on the back burner for the past couple of years. However, lately she'd begun to feel guilty about it, and had been taking it out on Willow.
"No, Willow. I only meant you could've slept in; gotten some extra rest," Kennedy said, smiling at her.
"I know, but I won't see you until tomorrow night, then you'll be leaving next Wednesday," Willow said, her eyes sad.
"I know. I wish I didn't have to go home, but my dad isn't doing well. You could've come with me."
Willow shook her head, "You know we can't afford both of us going right now."
"Nonsense, you know I could easily pay for you..."
Willow shook her head. Kennedy sighed. They'd been over this many times. What Willow didn't say, was that she knew from having overheard a conversation Kennedy had with her sister, that the family fortune wasn't nearly what it once was. Not that there was any chance of her family landing in the poor house anymore, but from what she could gather. Still...
"I'm glad you got up with me, Willow," Kennedy said, coming over and giving her a kiss.
"Have a good training session, “Willow said, as she walked Kennedy outside.
“I plan on it.”
“And tell Giles and the other slayers hello for me," Willow added, realizing that it had been a while since she'd heard from him at all. Which was...odd.
"I will."
"Drive careful!"
"Who me?" Kennedy asked innocently, before peeling out in the red convertible she'd had shipped from home.
"Yeah, you," Willow said, as she watched Kennedy drive off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GREENWICH
10:00AM
The day of the game was windy and overcast. Giles, in his new Blues sweatshirt and cap paced nervously in the foyer, checking his watch every few seconds.
Giles glanced down at his watch again.
“Are you almost ready?” he called up the stairs.
“I’ll be down forthwith,” William called.
Earlier, Giles had gone upstairs to check on William when he hadn’t come down to breakfast, and was mildly alarmed when he’d found him sitting at the table, book and pen in hand, staring off into space.
“What’s the matter?” he’d asked, irritably. Of course, it was a redundant question, and one he particularly didn’t have the patience to want answers to that morning. Once again, he’d been awakened in the middle of the night by William’s infernal, nocturnal pacing. That, and Giles’ own anticipation for the coming day, kept him from returning to his already fractured sleep.
The seconds ticked by.
“Nothing,” William finally answered, during which time Giles was almost sure that he didn’t even realize he was standing there.
“Apparently! Then why aren’t you dressed?” Giles snapped.
“Dressed? I...” William said, then he saw Giles in his Chelsea sweatshirt and cap.
“Yes, for the game," Giles said, exasperated. "You must hurry, if we’re to be there for the start of the game. It’s going to take us a God-awful long time to get there with all the holiday traffic, not to mention the traffic near the stadium.
Giles let out a sigh of relief, as he saw William coming down the stairs, with his daypack. In deference to Giles, he was sporting the Chelsea hat that he’d also purchased for him. Unbeknownst to him, William was also wearing the ‘verboten’ Manchester United shirt underneath his light blue pullover.
As they made their way through traffic, Giles was unusually chatty as he tried to further educate William as to players on each team, the current season’s statistics, and other things he thought would make the game more meaningful to him.
Statistics, numbers, dates, and more numbers...
Three hundred and sixty-five times twenty.
“By chance, did you remember to bring along the players and statistics sheets?”
Giles asked, referring to the mere tip of the encyclopedic iceberg of papers he’d printed off and given to him a few days before.
Bring the zero down.
William nodded, dutifully pulling them out of his jacket pocket to show Giles.
“Good chap!” Giles responded, pleased.
“Did I mention it’s been a good twenty years since I’ve been to a game?”
“Maybe once or twice,” William answered.
Two times five equals ten.
“Ah, yes...so I have,” Giles said, with a grin.
An hour before the game started, Giles parked in front of the home of an old family friend, half a mile from the stadium. After the quick, but requisite small talk and expressions of gratitude with said family friend, they then proceeded to walk to their destination.
William could feel the air around him alive with anticipation the nearer they got to Stamford Bridge. For the supporters, it was excitement; for him it was cold dread. It felt like he was being invisibly drawn to this stadium -- for what purpose he didn’t know; only that the feeling had grown stronger as the day neared. Now it was upon him, and he could only go along.
“I remember it, you know,” William said.
“Remember what?”
“When they were building the stadium; it was in all the papers near weekly. I seem to recall there were quite a few debates regarding it.”
“Do you happen to remember what they were about?”
“I think it may have been about them using the excavated material from the underground in order to provide high terracing on one end of the stadium.”
“I read about that on Chelsea’s website. Personally, I thought that was a capital plan. The stadium got terraced seating, and London had a nearby, convenient place to rid itself of tons of material. What was the debate?”
“Something to do with the possibility of the material being contaminated. I believe that was the gist of it.”
“Ah...that’s a different story then,” Giles said. “Tell me, did you ever attend a game after the stadium opened?“
William shook his head.
“I’m afraid sports just never held much interest for me. However, there were a lot of events going on around Chelsea in honor of the opening. There were musical performances and speeches, a fair; that sort of thing. I did attend some of those. I took my mother to see an orchestra perform near here one evening,” William said quietly. “It was before...before she became ill.”
“I’m sure your mother must have enjoyed that very much,” Giles said gently.
William only nodded his head.
Giles waited a respectable amount of time before continuing.
“If memory serves, Stamford Bridge opened in 1877, making you how old then? Twenty-three? Twenty-four?”
“Twenty-five,” William answered softly. Which would now make him...
Two thousand and nine take away eighteen fifty-two
Two zero zero nine take away one eight five two
“You alright?” Giles asked, seeing William shudder.
“I’m fine; wind just gave me a bit of a chill is all,” William said, a bit too quickly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Council Headquarters
11:30AM
Kennedy quietly slipped into the training room, taking a seat near the back of the room next to some of the other slayers.
“Kennedy, you made it!” Vi squealed, giving the long-absent slayer a hug.
The instructor, whom had been going over new protocols, cleared her throat as she looked towards the back of the room.
“You’re late!”
“I know, I got stuck in traffic on the Hammersmith flyover. “
“Yes, that’s near the Chelsea stadium, so I imagine it would be quite busy this morning,” the instructor said with a sigh. “Still, it’s up to you to anticipate such matters. Had you checked the traffic website or the radio stations, I’m sure you would’ve been given alternative ways to go.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kennedy said, looking down.
“Giles and William went to the game today,” Vi whispered to her.
“Who?” Kennedy asked.
“Girls!” the instructor said, exasperated.
“Tell you at lunch,” Vi mouthed silently.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At lunch the girls gathered around Kennedy and the others who they hadn't seen in a while to exchange greetings and gossip.
"So Giles went to a game, huh? Can't say that I'd imagine him doing something so...normal," Kennedy said, her mouth full of chicken.
"We didn't think so either. That's why we gave him the tickets for his Christmas present. He never seems to have any fun. Plus, now that William is staying with him, he's under more stress..."
"You started to tell me that in class. Who's William?"
"You don't know, do you? We weren't supposed to tell anyone," Vi said, conspiratorially.
Kennedy put down her fork. "Weren't supposed to tell anyone what?"
"About William. It's Spike! Or rather, he was Spike. It's...he's human now and he's here staying with Giles. I think he was staying with Buffy before, but we're not supposed to ask him, but from a few things he said that's what I'm guessing," Vi rambled on.
"I know."
"You knew? Oh, because of Willow?"
"Yeah, I knew about Spike becoming human, but not that he was here," Kennedy said, not going into all the details she knew from last summer. "I've got to tell Willow. I know Buffy has been worried about him."
Vi didn't say anything for a minute. Giles would probably be angry with her for telling, but the last time she'd seen William, it had disturbed her. He'd had dark circles underneath his eyes, his clothes seemed to be hanging loosely on his frame, and he looked...haunted was the word that popped into her mind.
"I think that would be a very good idea," Vi said, looking into Kennedy's eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
STAMFORD BRIDGE
11:30AM
William’s eyes grew large, and as they walked through the gates and he got his first glimpse of the massive blue and white seated stadium. With trepidation, he followed Giles through the miles of aisles until they reached their seats in The West; the largest of the four seating stands.
With some time to spare before the game, Giles excused himself to go to the food stalls; first making sure his guest didn’t mind being left alone for a while. William sat looking down at his program, and the team information Giles had him bring, unable to bring himself to look around him.
“So, who you think will be the Manscum startin’ goalie since Van der Saar’s out?” asked a man next to him.
“What?” William asked, startled, and not understanding any of what had been asked.
“It’ll be Howard. You mark my words,” answered a man in front of him.
“Figures.”
“Yeah. Manchester Bloody Yankees,” the man spat.
Giles returned, handing William a sandwich and a beer.
"I forgot how bloody expensive food is to buy here. And the cost of beer..." he said, as he took his seat.
"I'm sorry. What do I owe you?" William asked, trying to reach his wallet, while balancing his food.
"Not a thing. Grumbling about prices is just part of the experience," Giles said, with a wry grin.
Moments later the crowd started chanting, as the players came onto the field.
“Chelsea! Chelsea! Chelsea!”
And a few rows away, a whole section started to croon:
Stamford Bridge I do love you
You're the one ground for me
When I come, I come to see
A team called Che-el-sea
I would grow much weaker
Weather would be bleaker
If I spent a week a-
Way from Stamford Bridge
The players themselves seemed to take it all in stride, as they went about doing some stretches, before getting into position, as they waited for the referee to start the match.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
12:00 NOON
BATH
“Hey, how’s it going?” Willow answered the phone, seeing Kennedy’s number.
“Fine. I was a bit late because of traffic, but they dealt. Listen, I’ve only got a few minutes before training classes begin again, and I’ve got something really big to tell you.”
“What is it?” Willow asked, all ears now.
“You aren’t going to believe this, but Spike is here!”
“Spike? You mean William? Buffy’s William? I mean, he’s not Spike again, is he?”
“Yeah, I mean William. No, he’s not a vampire again.”
“He’s there? Now? Today?”
“No, not today. He’s been staying with Giles for a while now. Actually, they’re off seeing a football match today.”
“But...but...”
“Unbelievable, isn’t it? Look, I’ve got to go, but I thought I’d give you the heads up on Buffy’s wayward significant other.”
“Okay. Wow...thanks,” Willow said, dumbfounded.
“Love ya,” Kennedy said.
“You too, sweetie,” Willow said, as she clicked off the connection.
Wow.
Buffy wasn’t going to believe this one!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
12:30PM
STAMFORD BRIDGE
At a breakneck pace, the two teams vied for control of the ball, but Chelsea dominated the field. Suddenly, the crowd was on their feet, screaming at the referee. Manchester United had their first goal.
“He took a dive”
“Dirty player!”
“ Chopped poor Geremi's feet out and still got the free kick”
“Bloody Shrek!”
“What happened?” William asked. He was trying to keep up with the game, and hadn't noticed anything amiss.
“Looks like Rooney kicked No. 14’s ankles out from under him. Guess the linesman didn’t see it that way,” Giles said, disgusted.
Five minutes later, Chelsea’s midfielder Wright-Philips evened the score when he made a goal. Some of the rowdier crowd up above cheered ecstatically:
Fuck 'em all, Fuck 'em all,
United, West Ham, Liverpool
'Cause we are the Chelsea and we are the best,
We are the Chelsea, so fuck all the rest...
But for William, his own internal chant was becoming louder and louder.
Three hundred and sixty-five times one hundred and twenty.
Bring the zero down.
Two times five equals ten.
Bring the zero down.
Carry the one.
Two times six equals twelve
Plus one is thirteen.
Bring the three down.
Carry the one...
Two times three equals six.
Add the one.
Plus one is seven.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1:00PM
BATH
After her initial instinct to call Buffy right away, Willow decided she needed to meditate on what she’d found out from Kennedy. Although Buffy knew she had a carte blanche offer for her to do a locating spell, she hadn't asked. From what she could tell from their conversations, Buffy was trying to give William the space he needed to work out his issues; his personal demons, as it were.
Still, the last time she’d talked to her, Buffy had seemed so sad; resigned really to the possibility the William wouldn’t be coming back to her at all.
Then, to further complicate matters, was the sticky issue of her knowing about the Shanshu prophecy's two-year clause. If she interfered without being asked, would it adversely affect the outcome? On the other hand, did it make a difference if she came by information, that as any other friend, she would've conveyed? Her brain was beginning to hurt.
She flipped open her cell phone, and held down the #2 key, until she saw the icon letting her know it was ringing on the other end.
“Hello?”
“Althanea? I have something important to ask you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1:30PM
STAMFORD BRIDGE
Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle All the Way
Oh what fun it is to see ManU lose away
The game was well into the second half, the score 3-2, with Chelsea ahead. Manchester United had led during the entire first half. Caught up in the game, William had nearly whooped in glee for Manchester once; had it not been for Giles quickly pounding him on the back, as if he’d been choking instead. From the suspicious looks of the people nearby, William supposed they’d much prefer him choking, than to cheer for the opposing team.
The rowdy crowd around William and Giles seemed to have opinions on everything.
“Good thing that Mourinho decided to stay on. The Blues are havin’ their best year since ’05.”
“Yeah, bet Manscum wished Fergie was still their manager!”
Another cheer went up, as the Blues once again thwarted what had looked to be a sure goal by the Red Devils.
Chelsea boys we are here
Wo ho, wo ho
Chelsea boys we are here
Shag your women and drink your beer
Wo ho, wo ho wo
Giles, caught up in the game and talking with the other men around him, didn’t notice when William’s breath suddenly hitched in his throat.
Three hundred and sixty-five times one hundred and twenty.
Bring the zero down.
Two times five equals ten.
Bring the zero down.
Carry the one.
Two times six equals twelve
Plus one is thirteen.
Bring the three down.
Carry the one...
Giles was cheering for his beloved Chelsea, when William’s fingers counted out the numbers, in tune with his mind.
Two times three equals six.
Add the one.
Plus one is seven.
One times five equals five.
Five plus three equals eight.
And Giles didn’t know when William finally, inevitably, reached the end.
One times six equals six.
Seven plus six equals thirteen.
Bring the three down.
Carry the one.
One times three equals three.
Plus one, equals four.
Four, three, eight, zero, zero.
Four, three, eight, zero, zero.
43,800
Hands shaking, William pulled the papers he’d brought out of his pocket, turning to the stadium information page. What he was looking for was near the bottom.
The current stadium capacity stands at 42,522.
Hands shaking, William slowly put the papers back in his pocket, and rose.
“Excuse me,” he intoned emotionlessly.
“Are you going to the concessions, by chance?” Giles asked.
William shook his head.
“Oh. Alright then,” Giles said, slightly peeved that he hadn’t at least offered to stop off, since he was going to be in the vicinity.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With tunnel vision, William made his way up through the stands until he reached the upper deck areas leading to the food stalls and the loos. He turned and stared out at the thousands of people in the stands - men, women, children, babies, young, old, and middle-aged. Numb, he turned and walked out of Stamford Bridge.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fifteen minutes later, Giles had a passing thought that William should’ve been back by then, but attributed his absence to the thought that perhaps he had gone to the food stalls after all. When twenty minutes had passed, he began to be concerned, and tried William’s cell phone. There was no answer. Internally, Giles fought the desire to stay until the end of the game, only minutes away, versus what he felt was his duty to find out what had happened to William.
“Bugger all!” Giles said, standing up. The game was now a lost cause to him; his mind refused to block out what might have befallen the former vampire.
“Should’ve gone to the game by myself,” he mumbled, as he excused his way down the aisle.
“Hey! You don’t want to leave now! Game’s almost over!” Called the man who’d been sitting in back of him.
“Can’t be helped,” Giles said with a sigh.
A search of all the nearby concession areas and loos turned up nothing. Giles stopped and watched the last few passes of the game. Chelsea had won by 4-2, but Giles had missed seeing the final goal.
Giles left the stadium, half-expecting to see William waiting for him outside the gates, but he wasn’t. He hoped that he would at least have the good sense to meet him at the car.
William wasn’t there either. The people whose house he’d parked at came out and talked to him. They assured him they hadn’t seen William come back yet. Reluctantly, he accepted their offer for some tea while he waited.
An hour later, he thanked his hosts for the tea.
“Looks like your friend must’ve found another way home,” the man said.
“Yes, I’m sure he must have by now,” Giles replied, but the little voice in his head wasn’t at all sure.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
END CHAPTER 184
A/N Special thanks to curious wombat and her husband for helping me with the difficult job (OMG...this had me so over a barrel) of realistic dialogue and references to a Chelsea vs. Man U footy match.
DECEMBER 17, 2009
WEDNESDAY
GREENWICH
The week prior to the game had been quite busy for Giles. He’d been fielding calls regarding some new slayers who had been located in the Congo. Not only was language a problem, but the fact that civil unrest was a way of life there didn’t exactly make for an easy way to reach the new slayers; communication being sketchy at the best of times.
Although he’d tried his best to attract and train new watchers, it hadn’t been easy. At best, it was a crash course, compared to all the field knowledge that had been lost when The First had decimated their ranks. For the whole of Africa, there were only a half-dozen trained watchers for the possibly hundreds or more slayers throughout the continent, when they could’ve used ten, twenty, even thirty times that number. Giles sighed, knowing there would never be an adequate number, nor would it ever be possible to find them all. It depressed him to think of all those young women, not knowing what they were, or what had happened to them. He only hoped that they would do the best they could, on the side of good, with the slayer strength they were bestowed with.
Wesley had called to say that he wouldn’t be able to make it until after the holidays, due to recent demon activity up in San Bernardino National Forest. He was sending some of his slayers, and wanted to be there with them if they needed assistance.
“If it doesn’t take too long to resolve the problem, I could still come,” Wesley had said.
“No, you’re right, of course. Your duty is to the slayers under your watch, and their mission.”
“I could send the scrolls containing the Shanshu prophecy ahead, if you wish,” Wes suggested. “Then when I am able to get there, I can further lend a hand in it’s translation, if you haven’t been able to...”
“No, it will hold until then. I’d feel better if the original scrolls didn’t leave your hands,” Giles said, though he’d been anxious to see it firsthand. “By the way, I’ll send you one of the Council’s Emergency Death Certificates that you can give to the airline, so they’ll credit you for the next flight.”
“Thank you, Giles,” Wes said. He smiled to himself, knowing that was as much for the Council’s benefit as much as his own since they, hence Giles, paid for his airfare.
“You’ll let me know if you need any assistance?” Giles queried.
“I will. I don’t know if you told William that I was coming, but when you speak to him, do wish him a happy holiday for me, would you?”
“I’ll be glad to pass it along. He knew you were coming, but not why, of course. I think William will be a bit disappointed; he seems rather fond of you.”
“It’s mutual,” Wes said, thinking of the unassuming young man he’d spent only a few hours with. “Rather odd to be speaking of the former William the Bloody this way, isn’t it? Who would’ve ever thought...?”
“Yes, quite, ”Giles replied, thinking it even odder to have him as an invited house guest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Giles had also been busy with after hours shopping. Not for Christmas shopping, which he hadn’t even thought to do as of yet, but for the upcoming Chelsea game this weekend.
After work one evening, he’d taken himself and a very reluctant William, to a sports shop in nearby Black Heath. The shop, crowded with holiday shoppers, carried sweatshirts, T-shirts, jackets, caps, shot glasses, mugs, thermoses, posters, books, pendants, and every other conceivable team memento in all sizes, shapes, and colors.
Giles did feel a pang of guilt or two, for buying here, rather than at the Stamford Bridge Stadium shop. However, above all else, he was a practical and prudent man.
“What are you doing?” Giles asked, finding William a few rows away looking at the opposing team’s gear.
“I was thinking about purchasing this,” William said, holding up a Manchester United pullover.
“I would seriously advise against that,” Giles said.
“Why?” William asked, taken aback.
“Because you’re likely to sustain serious bodily harm, if you were to consider wearing that, while sitting with Blues supporters,” Giles explained, as if to a child.
“Then I’ll sit with the Manchester United ones,” William said petulantly. He didn’t quite understand the strong feelings he had for ManU himself. He’d only seen a few games with John last year and only caught one since he’d been here. Still, they ‘felt’ like his team.
Giles felt his patience beginning to wear thin. His mind went back to when Spike, as his obstinate houseguest in Sunnydale, would not only eat his snacks, but also drink his best scotch, and irritate him to no end by prattling on about Manchester United.
“Oh, bollocks I say to Manchester, and to that wanker Beckham, too!” Giles had yelled at Spike one day, slamming his glass down so hard on the coffee table that it shattered. The vampire had just gotten on his last nerve going on about the great and mighty Red Devils as they were watching a game, where Manchester was thoroughly trouncing Arsenal. If they lost to Manchester, it would also knock Chelsea out of getting to the championship playoffs completely.
Spike just smirked in that irritating way of his.
Darkly, Giles considered that there wasn’t enough Glenlivet in all of Southern California to make Spike living with him even barely tolerable. Not to mention, getting smashed while in the proximity of a vampire, even a chipped one, wasn’t the brightest of ideas.
“Think I might just sire Beckham,” Spike went on, goading Giles. This, back before Beckham had sold out to Spain.
“How the hell is he going to play then without turning to dust, you berk?” Which actually might have been interesting, if you were watching from the opposing stands. The other teams would surely have a new ditty to taunt Manchester with, by the next time they faced them.
“He can play night games,” Spike said. “And then he can just eat his opponents, after he kicks their asses.”
“Oh, that’s just bloody brilliant,” Giles said, looking away with disgust.
“Yeah...is, innit?” Spike had replied, looking mightily pleased with himself.
One thousand one, one thousand two...when Giles reached ten, he continued.
“My dear William," Giles said with a forced smile. "I’m afraid that simply isn’t an option, since seat numbers and sections are already designated on the tickets the girls bought for me."
"Oh..."
"You will try to behave yourself, won’t you? I don't ask for my own sake, but for your safety. Footy supporters can and do sometimes get out of hand in the heat of the moment."
William stiffened. “Of course I will. You needn’t worry at all about that.”
“Well...good."
“I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful; it’s very generous of you to offer to take me to the game at all,” William said. Although he meant it, the nearer the day loomed, the more he was filled with trepidation. He simply hadn’t the fortitude to decline the invitation in the first place, especially since Giles had seemed so keen on having him accompany him.
William had thought of an out by offering his ticket to Wesley when he arrived, thus, having it appear as a good-faith gesture on his part, rather than anything else. Of course, that plan had fallen apart now that Wesley wasn’t going to be able to make it. For personal reasons, Wesley’s cancellation saddened him; it would have been nice to see a familiar face from California, even if it wasn’t the one whose face he longed to see. Furthermore, for the few hours they’d spent together William had felt at ease talking to Wesley, more so in a way, than he did talking to Giles.
Of course, the very nature of many of their talks was quite agonizing for him, considering it was all about his, or rather, Spike’s past. William was unsure these days if there was indeed any distinction worth making anymore between the two. Also, knowing his and Giles’ past history had been antagonistic, while one of the very reasons he'd sought him out; since he would be less likely to soft pad the truth, also kept him wary. Although the watcher tried not to show it, sometimes William thought he could sense an undercurrent of...dislike? Then again, he might have been projecting his own self-loathing these days.
Giles felt a stab of guilt for having just dealt with William out of the piqued feelings that thinking of Spike had brought up, rather than the issue at hand. He took a quiet, deep breath, and made a concerted effort to focus on the man in front of him.
“I didn’t mean to come on so strong, either,” Giles apologized. He hesitated, then gave William an awkward pat on the shoulder.
“You didn’t. You were well within your right to warn me.”
“This whole football thing has gotten me feeling strangely,” Giles said with a soft laugh. “Now, let’s check out, shall we?”
William nodded, putting down the Manchester shirt.
“No, I insist,” Giles said, picking it back up, “In fact, I’d like to purchase it for you.”
“That’s not necessary,” William protested, shaking his head vigorously.
“I know that; think of it as an early Christmas gift. Just don’t wear it to the game on Saturday, alright?” Giles said, with a conspiratorial wink.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
DECEMBER 19, 2009
FRIDAY
2:00PM
There was a knot in William’s stomach that had been increasing in intensity every day. He tried to examine what exactly it was that had him so on edge, but the harder he tried, the more futile it seemed. The only reason he knew he was still having nightmares was because he’d awaken in a cold sweat, with his heart pounding, unable to go back to sleep. William was terrified that this new development must portend some other level of Spike’s...his past monstrousness; so appalling, his mind refused him access to the memories.
That wasn’t quite true. There was one thing that wouldn’t leave him alone, awake or asleep.
Three hundred and sixty-five times one hundred and twenty.
Three hundred and sixty-five times one hundred and twenty.
Bring the zero down.
Two times five equals ten.
Carry the one.
Add the one...
After another sleepless night, William left early in the morning, even before Giles had arisen. He wandered through the park, before stopping to kill some time at a coffee shop near the university. The way he’d walked had helped him avoid the shopping district, which he was consciously trying to do as much as possible these days. He kept coming back to the skillfully mild, yet deceptively pointed question Giles asked him the other evening.
As they’d driven back from their shopping excursion William became aware of Giles clearing his throat a number of times. Having lived with him for a number of weeks, he took this as a telltale sign that the older man was about to bring up something that he most likely wouldn’t want to hear. He waited for the onslaught.
“William?”
“Yes, Giles?”
“Have you...um...spoken to Buffy lately?”
William shook his head.
“The reason I ask is, as you know the holidays are fast approaching,” Giles said, clearing his throat once more before continuing, “and I was just wondering what your plans were regarding her.”
“You mean am I going to call her? I...I hadn’t thought about it,” William said stiffly.
It wasn’t true. He’d spent an inordinate amount of time trying to avoid that very thing. Therefore, he’d been thinking of it almost constantly. How could he not, after last year?
William heard Giles take a deep breath before dropping the bomb.
“I was thinking that it might be the right time to let Buffy know where you are; you know she must be quite concerned,” Giles said, pausing a moment before continuing. “I realize you’re not ready to resume your prior living arrangement with her right now, but I thought that perhaps you might invite her here for the holidays. I’ve a connection at British Airways; one of the agent’s fathers used to work for the Council. I’m sure I could count on him to get her a decent flight, despite the late date, and I think it would do you both good to not be alone over the holidays. And if I might add, I’m not convinced your nightmares constitute an actual threat, or believe you’d be driven to act on them. However, if that’s your primary concern, that’s easily remedied by merely giving Buffy her own room so that the two of you aren’t alone at night if you feel she, or you, might be vulnerable at that...”
“No!” William said, adamantly shaking his head. “I can’t! I can’t see her now!”
Giles didn’t reply right away.
“And calling her?”
“I don’t know,” William said softly, after a few moments.
“I see.”
“I’m sorry,“ William said, looking over at Giles, as they waited for the light to change, “I know I’ve put you in a difficult position, but I’d be grateful it if you didn’t let Elizabeth know I’m here. Not yet, in any case.”
“You’ve not put me in any position, William. I put myself in it when I gave you my card last April, and asked that you call on me if you needed to. Does it bother me to harbor you, as it were, without Buffy’s knowledge? Yes, but for reasons that have more to do with past errors in judgement I’ve made in regards to my relationship with Buffy, than it does with you personally. I’m just afraid she won’t understand, and think that I’ve gone behind her back again. Which I guess, in a manner, I have,” Giles said, sighing. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Buffy throughout the years, is that she wholeheartedly resents having people take decision making out of her hands under the guise of it being for her own good, or in order to protect her.”
William swallowed. “I know. Do you think I wanted to leave her? Or that it’s not killing me to be without her? Or to know she must feel that I’m doing what every other man in her life has done to her?”
Caught up in his own grief, always so near to the surface; now erupted, William didn’t notice Giles’ wince.
“I promised her that I’d never leave her...” William said, his voice anguished.
“I’d say that if anyone had extenuating circumstances surrounding them it would be you, William. I’m sure Buffy understands that...” Giles offered.
“...then...all this...all that’s happened,” William continued, as if the other man hadn’t spoken, “I just don’t feel I have anything to offer Elizabeth right now. Not what she deserves to have, and I can’t risk hurting her further, in ANY way. Please, I can’t...”
“It’s alright, William,” Giles said, patting William’s arm, afraid the younger man was on the verge of hyperventilating, “I shan’t go against your wishes.”
“Thank you,” William said, letting out a sigh of relief.
“For what it’s worth, however, I do think you’re wrong.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After spending the next few hours at the Dreadnought Library, an exhausted William headed home in the early afternoon, knowing Giles would’ve already returned to the Council. A block from the house, he saw Mrs. Greeves boarding a bus. He sighed in relief, knowing he wouldn’t have to risk running into her and the silent disapproval he sometimes felt.
Upon entering, he could smell a mixture wood polish and laundry detergent, as well as what smelled of a roast still warming in the oven. Although his stomach gurgled hungrily at the aroma, he ignored it. Instead, he went upstairs hoping to manage to get a couple of hours of sleep.
Walking into his room, he immediately sensed something different. It only took him a few moments to realize that his room had been tidied and cleaned in his absence, and something else...
“No! You didn’t!” William shouted, running downstairs to the laundry room. The washing machine abruptly stopped agitating, as he threw open the lid. As he’d suspected, his sheets were in there. He dug around in the scalding water trying to find what he was looking for. Frustrated, he started pulled the out the sopping wet sheets one by one, transferring them to the nearby sink, but to no avail.
After replacing them and lowering the washer’s lid, he checked the dryer, again pulling out everything. Still not finding what he was looking for, he checked around the floor of the laundry room and behind the machines. Sure he hadn’t missed anything, he ran back up to his room, and looked under his pillows, then tore back the blankets and sheets.
“Where is it? What the hell did you do with it you meddling, old biddy?” William cursed at the departed housekeeper. Giles had asked him when he'd first arrived, if he wanted Mrs. Greeves to clean his room, and he'd told him he'd prefer to take care of it himself.
Panic was beginning to take hold of him. William felt like he was losing yet another piece of her, and with it, another piece of himself. All he seemed to have left was the looming truth of his past existence, blending into this one, and becoming one and the same.
Angrily, he pulled the sheets and blankets off the bed, fighting with them in impotent fury and tossing them into the middle of the room. Just as he was about to yank open the nightstand drawer to reassure himself that Elizabeth’s necklace and ring were still safely there, his eye caught sight of something sticking out from under the bed near the wall. Reaching under the bed, he pulled out Elizabeth’s white lace camisole. With a small sob of relief, he buried his face in it, inhaling deeply for any lingering scent. It was still there; just a bit, but still there, still her.
Emotionally and physically drained, William crawled to the pile of sheets and blankets he’d tossed off the bed, and collapsed onto them, falling almost immediately into a deep, troubled sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
DECEMBER 20, 2009
SATURDAY
BATH
7:00AM
"Willow, you didn't have to get up with me," Kennedy said, accepting the cup of coffee and toast that Willow handed her.
"I know, but I won't see you for a couple of days...but I'm probably just in your way this morning?" Willow asked, all of a sudden hesitant.
Their relationship had been under a lot of strain lately with Kennedy taking her finals, their work schedules, the upcoming separation that they once again would be experiencing over the holidays, and now this. Encouraged by Willow to go finish her degree, Kennedy had put her slaying studies on the back burner for the past couple of years. However, lately she'd begun to feel guilty about it, and had been taking it out on Willow.
"No, Willow. I only meant you could've slept in; gotten some extra rest," Kennedy said, smiling at her.
"I know, but I won't see you until tomorrow night, then you'll be leaving next Wednesday," Willow said, her eyes sad.
"I know. I wish I didn't have to go home, but my dad isn't doing well. You could've come with me."
Willow shook her head, "You know we can't afford both of us going right now."
"Nonsense, you know I could easily pay for you..."
Willow shook her head. Kennedy sighed. They'd been over this many times. What Willow didn't say, was that she knew from having overheard a conversation Kennedy had with her sister, that the family fortune wasn't nearly what it once was. Not that there was any chance of her family landing in the poor house anymore, but from what she could gather. Still...
"I'm glad you got up with me, Willow," Kennedy said, coming over and giving her a kiss.
"Have a good training session, “Willow said, as she walked Kennedy outside.
“I plan on it.”
“And tell Giles and the other slayers hello for me," Willow added, realizing that it had been a while since she'd heard from him at all. Which was...odd.
"I will."
"Drive careful!"
"Who me?" Kennedy asked innocently, before peeling out in the red convertible she'd had shipped from home.
"Yeah, you," Willow said, as she watched Kennedy drive off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GREENWICH
10:00AM
The day of the game was windy and overcast. Giles, in his new Blues sweatshirt and cap paced nervously in the foyer, checking his watch every few seconds.
Giles glanced down at his watch again.
“Are you almost ready?” he called up the stairs.
“I’ll be down forthwith,” William called.
Earlier, Giles had gone upstairs to check on William when he hadn’t come down to breakfast, and was mildly alarmed when he’d found him sitting at the table, book and pen in hand, staring off into space.
“What’s the matter?” he’d asked, irritably. Of course, it was a redundant question, and one he particularly didn’t have the patience to want answers to that morning. Once again, he’d been awakened in the middle of the night by William’s infernal, nocturnal pacing. That, and Giles’ own anticipation for the coming day, kept him from returning to his already fractured sleep.
The seconds ticked by.
“Nothing,” William finally answered, during which time Giles was almost sure that he didn’t even realize he was standing there.
“Apparently! Then why aren’t you dressed?” Giles snapped.
“Dressed? I...” William said, then he saw Giles in his Chelsea sweatshirt and cap.
“Yes, for the game," Giles said, exasperated. "You must hurry, if we’re to be there for the start of the game. It’s going to take us a God-awful long time to get there with all the holiday traffic, not to mention the traffic near the stadium.
Giles let out a sigh of relief, as he saw William coming down the stairs, with his daypack. In deference to Giles, he was sporting the Chelsea hat that he’d also purchased for him. Unbeknownst to him, William was also wearing the ‘verboten’ Manchester United shirt underneath his light blue pullover.
As they made their way through traffic, Giles was unusually chatty as he tried to further educate William as to players on each team, the current season’s statistics, and other things he thought would make the game more meaningful to him.
Statistics, numbers, dates, and more numbers...
Three hundred and sixty-five times twenty.
“By chance, did you remember to bring along the players and statistics sheets?”
Giles asked, referring to the mere tip of the encyclopedic iceberg of papers he’d printed off and given to him a few days before.
Bring the zero down.
William nodded, dutifully pulling them out of his jacket pocket to show Giles.
“Good chap!” Giles responded, pleased.
“Did I mention it’s been a good twenty years since I’ve been to a game?”
“Maybe once or twice,” William answered.
Two times five equals ten.
“Ah, yes...so I have,” Giles said, with a grin.
An hour before the game started, Giles parked in front of the home of an old family friend, half a mile from the stadium. After the quick, but requisite small talk and expressions of gratitude with said family friend, they then proceeded to walk to their destination.
William could feel the air around him alive with anticipation the nearer they got to Stamford Bridge. For the supporters, it was excitement; for him it was cold dread. It felt like he was being invisibly drawn to this stadium -- for what purpose he didn’t know; only that the feeling had grown stronger as the day neared. Now it was upon him, and he could only go along.
“I remember it, you know,” William said.
“Remember what?”
“When they were building the stadium; it was in all the papers near weekly. I seem to recall there were quite a few debates regarding it.”
“Do you happen to remember what they were about?”
“I think it may have been about them using the excavated material from the underground in order to provide high terracing on one end of the stadium.”
“I read about that on Chelsea’s website. Personally, I thought that was a capital plan. The stadium got terraced seating, and London had a nearby, convenient place to rid itself of tons of material. What was the debate?”
“Something to do with the possibility of the material being contaminated. I believe that was the gist of it.”
“Ah...that’s a different story then,” Giles said. “Tell me, did you ever attend a game after the stadium opened?“
William shook his head.
“I’m afraid sports just never held much interest for me. However, there were a lot of events going on around Chelsea in honor of the opening. There were musical performances and speeches, a fair; that sort of thing. I did attend some of those. I took my mother to see an orchestra perform near here one evening,” William said quietly. “It was before...before she became ill.”
“I’m sure your mother must have enjoyed that very much,” Giles said gently.
William only nodded his head.
Giles waited a respectable amount of time before continuing.
“If memory serves, Stamford Bridge opened in 1877, making you how old then? Twenty-three? Twenty-four?”
“Twenty-five,” William answered softly. Which would now make him...
Two thousand and nine take away eighteen fifty-two
Two zero zero nine take away one eight five two
“You alright?” Giles asked, seeing William shudder.
“I’m fine; wind just gave me a bit of a chill is all,” William said, a bit too quickly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Council Headquarters
11:30AM
Kennedy quietly slipped into the training room, taking a seat near the back of the room next to some of the other slayers.
“Kennedy, you made it!” Vi squealed, giving the long-absent slayer a hug.
The instructor, whom had been going over new protocols, cleared her throat as she looked towards the back of the room.
“You’re late!”
“I know, I got stuck in traffic on the Hammersmith flyover. “
“Yes, that’s near the Chelsea stadium, so I imagine it would be quite busy this morning,” the instructor said with a sigh. “Still, it’s up to you to anticipate such matters. Had you checked the traffic website or the radio stations, I’m sure you would’ve been given alternative ways to go.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kennedy said, looking down.
“Giles and William went to the game today,” Vi whispered to her.
“Who?” Kennedy asked.
“Girls!” the instructor said, exasperated.
“Tell you at lunch,” Vi mouthed silently.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At lunch the girls gathered around Kennedy and the others who they hadn't seen in a while to exchange greetings and gossip.
"So Giles went to a game, huh? Can't say that I'd imagine him doing something so...normal," Kennedy said, her mouth full of chicken.
"We didn't think so either. That's why we gave him the tickets for his Christmas present. He never seems to have any fun. Plus, now that William is staying with him, he's under more stress..."
"You started to tell me that in class. Who's William?"
"You don't know, do you? We weren't supposed to tell anyone," Vi said, conspiratorially.
Kennedy put down her fork. "Weren't supposed to tell anyone what?"
"About William. It's Spike! Or rather, he was Spike. It's...he's human now and he's here staying with Giles. I think he was staying with Buffy before, but we're not supposed to ask him, but from a few things he said that's what I'm guessing," Vi rambled on.
"I know."
"You knew? Oh, because of Willow?"
"Yeah, I knew about Spike becoming human, but not that he was here," Kennedy said, not going into all the details she knew from last summer. "I've got to tell Willow. I know Buffy has been worried about him."
Vi didn't say anything for a minute. Giles would probably be angry with her for telling, but the last time she'd seen William, it had disturbed her. He'd had dark circles underneath his eyes, his clothes seemed to be hanging loosely on his frame, and he looked...haunted was the word that popped into her mind.
"I think that would be a very good idea," Vi said, looking into Kennedy's eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
STAMFORD BRIDGE
11:30AM
William’s eyes grew large, and as they walked through the gates and he got his first glimpse of the massive blue and white seated stadium. With trepidation, he followed Giles through the miles of aisles until they reached their seats in The West; the largest of the four seating stands.
With some time to spare before the game, Giles excused himself to go to the food stalls; first making sure his guest didn’t mind being left alone for a while. William sat looking down at his program, and the team information Giles had him bring, unable to bring himself to look around him.
“So, who you think will be the Manscum startin’ goalie since Van der Saar’s out?” asked a man next to him.
“What?” William asked, startled, and not understanding any of what had been asked.
“It’ll be Howard. You mark my words,” answered a man in front of him.
“Figures.”
“Yeah. Manchester Bloody Yankees,” the man spat.
Giles returned, handing William a sandwich and a beer.
"I forgot how bloody expensive food is to buy here. And the cost of beer..." he said, as he took his seat.
"I'm sorry. What do I owe you?" William asked, trying to reach his wallet, while balancing his food.
"Not a thing. Grumbling about prices is just part of the experience," Giles said, with a wry grin.
Moments later the crowd started chanting, as the players came onto the field.
“Chelsea! Chelsea! Chelsea!”
And a few rows away, a whole section started to croon:
Stamford Bridge I do love you
You're the one ground for me
When I come, I come to see
A team called Che-el-sea
I would grow much weaker
Weather would be bleaker
If I spent a week a-
Way from Stamford Bridge
The players themselves seemed to take it all in stride, as they went about doing some stretches, before getting into position, as they waited for the referee to start the match.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
12:00 NOON
BATH
“Hey, how’s it going?” Willow answered the phone, seeing Kennedy’s number.
“Fine. I was a bit late because of traffic, but they dealt. Listen, I’ve only got a few minutes before training classes begin again, and I’ve got something really big to tell you.”
“What is it?” Willow asked, all ears now.
“You aren’t going to believe this, but Spike is here!”
“Spike? You mean William? Buffy’s William? I mean, he’s not Spike again, is he?”
“Yeah, I mean William. No, he’s not a vampire again.”
“He’s there? Now? Today?”
“No, not today. He’s been staying with Giles for a while now. Actually, they’re off seeing a football match today.”
“But...but...”
“Unbelievable, isn’t it? Look, I’ve got to go, but I thought I’d give you the heads up on Buffy’s wayward significant other.”
“Okay. Wow...thanks,” Willow said, dumbfounded.
“Love ya,” Kennedy said.
“You too, sweetie,” Willow said, as she clicked off the connection.
Wow.
Buffy wasn’t going to believe this one!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
12:30PM
STAMFORD BRIDGE
At a breakneck pace, the two teams vied for control of the ball, but Chelsea dominated the field. Suddenly, the crowd was on their feet, screaming at the referee. Manchester United had their first goal.
“He took a dive”
“Dirty player!”
“ Chopped poor Geremi's feet out and still got the free kick”
“Bloody Shrek!”
“What happened?” William asked. He was trying to keep up with the game, and hadn't noticed anything amiss.
“Looks like Rooney kicked No. 14’s ankles out from under him. Guess the linesman didn’t see it that way,” Giles said, disgusted.
Five minutes later, Chelsea’s midfielder Wright-Philips evened the score when he made a goal. Some of the rowdier crowd up above cheered ecstatically:
Fuck 'em all, Fuck 'em all,
United, West Ham, Liverpool
'Cause we are the Chelsea and we are the best,
We are the Chelsea, so fuck all the rest...
But for William, his own internal chant was becoming louder and louder.
Three hundred and sixty-five times one hundred and twenty.
Bring the zero down.
Two times five equals ten.
Bring the zero down.
Carry the one.
Two times six equals twelve
Plus one is thirteen.
Bring the three down.
Carry the one...
Two times three equals six.
Add the one.
Plus one is seven.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1:00PM
BATH
After her initial instinct to call Buffy right away, Willow decided she needed to meditate on what she’d found out from Kennedy. Although Buffy knew she had a carte blanche offer for her to do a locating spell, she hadn't asked. From what she could tell from their conversations, Buffy was trying to give William the space he needed to work out his issues; his personal demons, as it were.
Still, the last time she’d talked to her, Buffy had seemed so sad; resigned really to the possibility the William wouldn’t be coming back to her at all.
Then, to further complicate matters, was the sticky issue of her knowing about the Shanshu prophecy's two-year clause. If she interfered without being asked, would it adversely affect the outcome? On the other hand, did it make a difference if she came by information, that as any other friend, she would've conveyed? Her brain was beginning to hurt.
She flipped open her cell phone, and held down the #2 key, until she saw the icon letting her know it was ringing on the other end.
“Hello?”
“Althanea? I have something important to ask you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1:30PM
STAMFORD BRIDGE
Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle All the Way
Oh what fun it is to see ManU lose away
The game was well into the second half, the score 3-2, with Chelsea ahead. Manchester United had led during the entire first half. Caught up in the game, William had nearly whooped in glee for Manchester once; had it not been for Giles quickly pounding him on the back, as if he’d been choking instead. From the suspicious looks of the people nearby, William supposed they’d much prefer him choking, than to cheer for the opposing team.
The rowdy crowd around William and Giles seemed to have opinions on everything.
“Good thing that Mourinho decided to stay on. The Blues are havin’ their best year since ’05.”
“Yeah, bet Manscum wished Fergie was still their manager!”
Another cheer went up, as the Blues once again thwarted what had looked to be a sure goal by the Red Devils.
Chelsea boys we are here
Wo ho, wo ho
Chelsea boys we are here
Shag your women and drink your beer
Wo ho, wo ho wo
Giles, caught up in the game and talking with the other men around him, didn’t notice when William’s breath suddenly hitched in his throat.
Three hundred and sixty-five times one hundred and twenty.
Bring the zero down.
Two times five equals ten.
Bring the zero down.
Carry the one.
Two times six equals twelve
Plus one is thirteen.
Bring the three down.
Carry the one...
Giles was cheering for his beloved Chelsea, when William’s fingers counted out the numbers, in tune with his mind.
Two times three equals six.
Add the one.
Plus one is seven.
One times five equals five.
Five plus three equals eight.
And Giles didn’t know when William finally, inevitably, reached the end.
One times six equals six.
Seven plus six equals thirteen.
Bring the three down.
Carry the one.
One times three equals three.
Plus one, equals four.
Four, three, eight, zero, zero.
Four, three, eight, zero, zero.
43,800
Hands shaking, William pulled the papers he’d brought out of his pocket, turning to the stadium information page. What he was looking for was near the bottom.
The current stadium capacity stands at 42,522.
Hands shaking, William slowly put the papers back in his pocket, and rose.
“Excuse me,” he intoned emotionlessly.
“Are you going to the concessions, by chance?” Giles asked.
William shook his head.
“Oh. Alright then,” Giles said, slightly peeved that he hadn’t at least offered to stop off, since he was going to be in the vicinity.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With tunnel vision, William made his way up through the stands until he reached the upper deck areas leading to the food stalls and the loos. He turned and stared out at the thousands of people in the stands - men, women, children, babies, young, old, and middle-aged. Numb, he turned and walked out of Stamford Bridge.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fifteen minutes later, Giles had a passing thought that William should’ve been back by then, but attributed his absence to the thought that perhaps he had gone to the food stalls after all. When twenty minutes had passed, he began to be concerned, and tried William’s cell phone. There was no answer. Internally, Giles fought the desire to stay until the end of the game, only minutes away, versus what he felt was his duty to find out what had happened to William.
“Bugger all!” Giles said, standing up. The game was now a lost cause to him; his mind refused to block out what might have befallen the former vampire.
“Should’ve gone to the game by myself,” he mumbled, as he excused his way down the aisle.
“Hey! You don’t want to leave now! Game’s almost over!” Called the man who’d been sitting in back of him.
“Can’t be helped,” Giles said with a sigh.
A search of all the nearby concession areas and loos turned up nothing. Giles stopped and watched the last few passes of the game. Chelsea had won by 4-2, but Giles had missed seeing the final goal.
Giles left the stadium, half-expecting to see William waiting for him outside the gates, but he wasn’t. He hoped that he would at least have the good sense to meet him at the car.
William wasn’t there either. The people whose house he’d parked at came out and talked to him. They assured him they hadn’t seen William come back yet. Reluctantly, he accepted their offer for some tea while he waited.
An hour later, he thanked his hosts for the tea.
“Looks like your friend must’ve found another way home,” the man said.
“Yes, I’m sure he must have by now,” Giles replied, but the little voice in his head wasn’t at all sure.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
END CHAPTER 184
A/N Special thanks to curious wombat and her husband for helping me with the difficult job (OMG...this had me so over a barrel) of realistic dialogue and references to a Chelsea vs. Man U footy match.