ONE NORMAL LIFE / TWO EXTRAORDINARY LIVES
folder
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
210
Views:
12,151
Reviews:
182
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
BtVS AU/AR › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
210
Views:
12,151
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.
RECKONING
CHAPTER 200 - RECKONING
William fought off a wave of dizziness and nausea as he resolutely walked
around his father’s and Henry’s graves to confront those that he dreaded seeing
the most. Blinking hard, he forced himself to look down at the two matching
headstones:
WILLIAM
SPENCER
WORTHINGTON,
BELOVED SON AND BROTHER,
BORN 1852,
DIED 1880.
ANNE
GRACE
WORTHINGTON,
WIFE OF WILLIAM PHILIP WORTHINGTON,
BELOVED MOTHER, AND SISTER,
BORN 1824,
DIED 1880.
If coming face-to-face with his own name, along with the dates of his birth and
death inscribed on an empty grave was stone-cold sobering; seeing the same for
his mother was truly horrifying, and, a thousand times worse. What had she done
to deserve this fate? In repayment for a lifetime's worth of love and sacrifice, he
had taken hers and turned her into a soulless vampire like himself, in the self-
serving hopes that she would live forever. According to Elizabeth, when it
appeared that the demon that had taken over his mother’s body had quite a
different agenda - and certainly not one of his once caring, human mother - he
had killed it, as well.
For the first time since he’d learned that he had been responsible for his mother’s
death, the full and utter gravity of exactly what he had done to her hit him full
force. No longer supporting him, his legs gave way, dropping him to his knees in
front of her grave.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
GREENWICH - WATCHER’S COUNCIL OFFICES
Determinedly, the vicar politely declined the offer of yet another glass of scotch,
interlocking his fingers on his lap to keep from being tempted by more liquid
comfort. As it were, he'd lost count as the watcher did his best to fill him in on the
history of William the Bloody, a.k.a., Spike; now once more going by his given,
Christian name, William Worthington. Unconsciously, he shook his head and let
out a sigh. He looked up to find Rupert staring at him, concern written on the
other man’s face.
“Are you alright?” Giles asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“I understand. It’s a lot to take in, George.”
The vicar nodded slowly. “That, my good man, may be the understatement of the
century; perhaps all three in which William’s story takes place.”
Giles laughed softly. “Indeed, if I hadn’t known Spike back in Sunnydale, I dare
say I wouldn’t have believed it myself.”
The vicar put his hand up to his chin, rubbing it, as his mind sought to
comprehend the impossible.
“William died...saving the world, yet now he lives,” the vicar said, awe in his
voice.
“Yes, although technically, it was Spike who did that. William was already long
dead. Of course, as a vampire, so was Spike.”
"I believe the term you once used was animated corpse,” the vicar said.
Giles winced, knowing as the term had left his lips that it hadn’t nearly rung as
true as it once had. Only for simplicity’s sake, did he still stick to the party line by
way of explanation. Of course, when it came to Spike - whom maddeningly,
always had defied any simple clarification of his checkered existence - he was
once more left to back pedal, and to try to explain the unexplainable.
“I apologize for your having been the beneficiary of my poor choice in wording. I
guess animated corpse is more apt a description for a zombie. I can assure you,
Spike was never that; animated, however, is quite apropos,” Giles allowed
himself a small grin, as numerous memories of the once, frenetic and hyperactive
vampire came to mind.
"However, let me explain. When a vampire is sired, the human is killed. The
demon usurps both the body and memories of the previous owner, but it's not
that person any longer; hence the term. Semantics aside; in this case, Spike was
really dead and gone.”
"I understand that. What I don’t understand is this: If as you say, Spike was
nothing more than a demon, then how is it that he seemed to have been capable
of good, of love, even self-sacrifice, as you yourself have borne witness to? Many
of these, even before he sought out the return of his soul."
Giles took his time before answering, taking a drink to give himself a few
moments as he composed his thoughts. He knew it was too much information,
for one afternoon, to divulge what he knew of certain species of demons who
didn’t seem harmful at all. Such as Buffy and Spike’s friend, Clem, or others he’d
had productive and non-confrontational dealings with over the years. Not that he
ever trusted any of them 100%, because of what they were, but if he were honest
with himself, he could say the same of most humans. He sighed.
"I'm afraid that's the million dollar question, George, and for which I can only
speculate. The only thing I know for certain is that Spike was truly an anomaly; a
vampire that still seemed to possess genuine human qualities that went far
beyond what one would suspect merely being William’s memories. As to why or
how this happened, or if in the world there are others vampires like him, I suspect
not. Honestly, I have no answers.”
The light through the window behind Giles’ desk was beginning to ebb, as it does
in late December. The snowstorm of earlier had now blown over, just in time for
the sun to make a brief appearance, before setting for the day. Across the vast
expanse of Greenwich Park, the pristine, fresh snow shone like a setting out of a
Currier & Ives painting. The vicar absently looked to the east, seeking out the
familiar steeple of St. Sebastian’s, and just as he did, the low rays of the sun
chose that moment to illuminate the golden cross on top of it. Suddenly, it all
became clear.
The Reverend George Handley bowed his head and said a quick, silent prayer.
When he opened his eyes, a peaceful countenance had settled over his features
for the first time that afternoon.
“I do,” the vicar said, his voice hushed and reverent.
“Pardon?” Giles asked.
“It’s not surprising that William defies simple logic. It isn’t too often that God
shows us miracles.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Abomination.
It was the only word that came to William’s mind as he knelt in front of his
mother’s grave. He was an abomination in the sight of God and everything holy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“God?” Giles asked.
“Of course; do you know any other way that William could’ve been resurrected -
made flesh again?”
“Resurrected? I never quite thought of it in those terms.”
“What else would you call it?”
“I’d call it the fulfillment of a certain prophecy.”
“A prophecy, you say?”
“Yes, the Shanshu Prophecy, to be exact. It stated that a vampire who saved the
world, would be made human again. So you see, I’m not sure that God has
anything to do with it, George,” Giles said gently.
Along with his crash – and quite literally at that -- education regarding vampires
and demons, the good Reverend Handley had also learned of magic, of
prophecies, and of the existence of beings the watcher referred to as The
Powers That Be. With that newly acquired knowledge, he had no choice but to
adjust his views of the world – both human and heavenly. He came to the
conclusion that what he’d lacked beforehand, was merely knowledge about
God’s mysterious, chain-of-command, as he came to think of it.
Or perhaps…just perhaps, the world – both human and demon and everything in
between - was left to develop on it’s own; like the single cell that evolved into a
myriad of creatures that inhabit all of earth today. Still, to the vicar, God would
always be the ultimate Power, and the conscience of the human soul. The fact
that all these other beings and elements existed in the world didn’t lessen the
importance or belief in God; it only strengthened it.
“I am,” the vicar answered, with a smile that left no doubt of his sincerity.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“William...”
Moments after his knees hit the ground William could feel Elizabeth’s arms as
they wrapped around him. He accepted them for what they were - comfort, but he
didn’t glance at her. Surely, the sympathy he would see in her eyes for him would
only further serve as, yet more, inescapable proof of his most grievous of sins.
His head turned towards the headstone that bore his name.
"This is where I belong; where I’m supposed to be," William said, his voice a
strained whisper.
“NO! No, it’s not,” Buffy insisted, holding him tighter, against the cold, against the
pain she knew this was causing him, and the numbness she feared would take
root. Over the past months she’d been so afraid that William had permanently
drifted from her, and into his personal hell of suffering. She hadn’t just gotten him
back, only to lose him again!
“You’re here for a reason!” Buffy said, adamantly. “You survived all those years
because you are a survivor. Then you died; saving the world, and the fact that
you’re back now, there’s a reason. There’s a reason...”
He didn’t answer her. For a long time now, William accepted that despite the
prophecy that had brought him back and given him a reprieve, that surely, at the
end of his days Hell awaited him for all the evil he had committed.
He didn't share this with Elizabeth; it would only serve to hurt her. He knew that
like so many other times, she'd try to dissuade him, assuring him that he'd fought
against his nature, defeated evil, and that he’d become, and now was, a good
man. That may have been so, but in his eyes, it didn’t change anything. She may
have been able to save him from his involuntary restraints in Chicago, and from
much bigger, badder evils in Sunnydale, and even those that had come after him
in Julian, but not even she could save him from his past; nobody could. His day
of reckoning would come.
END CHAPTER 200
William fought off a wave of dizziness and nausea as he resolutely walked
around his father’s and Henry’s graves to confront those that he dreaded seeing
the most. Blinking hard, he forced himself to look down at the two matching
headstones:
WILLIAM
SPENCER
WORTHINGTON,
BELOVED SON AND BROTHER,
BORN 1852,
DIED 1880.
ANNE
GRACE
WORTHINGTON,
WIFE OF WILLIAM PHILIP WORTHINGTON,
BELOVED MOTHER, AND SISTER,
BORN 1824,
DIED 1880.
If coming face-to-face with his own name, along with the dates of his birth and
death inscribed on an empty grave was stone-cold sobering; seeing the same for
his mother was truly horrifying, and, a thousand times worse. What had she done
to deserve this fate? In repayment for a lifetime's worth of love and sacrifice, he
had taken hers and turned her into a soulless vampire like himself, in the self-
serving hopes that she would live forever. According to Elizabeth, when it
appeared that the demon that had taken over his mother’s body had quite a
different agenda - and certainly not one of his once caring, human mother - he
had killed it, as well.
For the first time since he’d learned that he had been responsible for his mother’s
death, the full and utter gravity of exactly what he had done to her hit him full
force. No longer supporting him, his legs gave way, dropping him to his knees in
front of her grave.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
GREENWICH - WATCHER’S COUNCIL OFFICES
Determinedly, the vicar politely declined the offer of yet another glass of scotch,
interlocking his fingers on his lap to keep from being tempted by more liquid
comfort. As it were, he'd lost count as the watcher did his best to fill him in on the
history of William the Bloody, a.k.a., Spike; now once more going by his given,
Christian name, William Worthington. Unconsciously, he shook his head and let
out a sigh. He looked up to find Rupert staring at him, concern written on the
other man’s face.
“Are you alright?” Giles asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“I understand. It’s a lot to take in, George.”
The vicar nodded slowly. “That, my good man, may be the understatement of the
century; perhaps all three in which William’s story takes place.”
Giles laughed softly. “Indeed, if I hadn’t known Spike back in Sunnydale, I dare
say I wouldn’t have believed it myself.”
The vicar put his hand up to his chin, rubbing it, as his mind sought to
comprehend the impossible.
“William died...saving the world, yet now he lives,” the vicar said, awe in his
voice.
“Yes, although technically, it was Spike who did that. William was already long
dead. Of course, as a vampire, so was Spike.”
"I believe the term you once used was animated corpse,” the vicar said.
Giles winced, knowing as the term had left his lips that it hadn’t nearly rung as
true as it once had. Only for simplicity’s sake, did he still stick to the party line by
way of explanation. Of course, when it came to Spike - whom maddeningly,
always had defied any simple clarification of his checkered existence - he was
once more left to back pedal, and to try to explain the unexplainable.
“I apologize for your having been the beneficiary of my poor choice in wording. I
guess animated corpse is more apt a description for a zombie. I can assure you,
Spike was never that; animated, however, is quite apropos,” Giles allowed
himself a small grin, as numerous memories of the once, frenetic and hyperactive
vampire came to mind.
"However, let me explain. When a vampire is sired, the human is killed. The
demon usurps both the body and memories of the previous owner, but it's not
that person any longer; hence the term. Semantics aside; in this case, Spike was
really dead and gone.”
"I understand that. What I don’t understand is this: If as you say, Spike was
nothing more than a demon, then how is it that he seemed to have been capable
of good, of love, even self-sacrifice, as you yourself have borne witness to? Many
of these, even before he sought out the return of his soul."
Giles took his time before answering, taking a drink to give himself a few
moments as he composed his thoughts. He knew it was too much information,
for one afternoon, to divulge what he knew of certain species of demons who
didn’t seem harmful at all. Such as Buffy and Spike’s friend, Clem, or others he’d
had productive and non-confrontational dealings with over the years. Not that he
ever trusted any of them 100%, because of what they were, but if he were honest
with himself, he could say the same of most humans. He sighed.
"I'm afraid that's the million dollar question, George, and for which I can only
speculate. The only thing I know for certain is that Spike was truly an anomaly; a
vampire that still seemed to possess genuine human qualities that went far
beyond what one would suspect merely being William’s memories. As to why or
how this happened, or if in the world there are others vampires like him, I suspect
not. Honestly, I have no answers.”
The light through the window behind Giles’ desk was beginning to ebb, as it does
in late December. The snowstorm of earlier had now blown over, just in time for
the sun to make a brief appearance, before setting for the day. Across the vast
expanse of Greenwich Park, the pristine, fresh snow shone like a setting out of a
Currier & Ives painting. The vicar absently looked to the east, seeking out the
familiar steeple of St. Sebastian’s, and just as he did, the low rays of the sun
chose that moment to illuminate the golden cross on top of it. Suddenly, it all
became clear.
The Reverend George Handley bowed his head and said a quick, silent prayer.
When he opened his eyes, a peaceful countenance had settled over his features
for the first time that afternoon.
“I do,” the vicar said, his voice hushed and reverent.
“Pardon?” Giles asked.
“It’s not surprising that William defies simple logic. It isn’t too often that God
shows us miracles.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Abomination.
It was the only word that came to William’s mind as he knelt in front of his
mother’s grave. He was an abomination in the sight of God and everything holy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“God?” Giles asked.
“Of course; do you know any other way that William could’ve been resurrected -
made flesh again?”
“Resurrected? I never quite thought of it in those terms.”
“What else would you call it?”
“I’d call it the fulfillment of a certain prophecy.”
“A prophecy, you say?”
“Yes, the Shanshu Prophecy, to be exact. It stated that a vampire who saved the
world, would be made human again. So you see, I’m not sure that God has
anything to do with it, George,” Giles said gently.
Along with his crash – and quite literally at that -- education regarding vampires
and demons, the good Reverend Handley had also learned of magic, of
prophecies, and of the existence of beings the watcher referred to as The
Powers That Be. With that newly acquired knowledge, he had no choice but to
adjust his views of the world – both human and heavenly. He came to the
conclusion that what he’d lacked beforehand, was merely knowledge about
God’s mysterious, chain-of-command, as he came to think of it.
Or perhaps…just perhaps, the world – both human and demon and everything in
between - was left to develop on it’s own; like the single cell that evolved into a
myriad of creatures that inhabit all of earth today. Still, to the vicar, God would
always be the ultimate Power, and the conscience of the human soul. The fact
that all these other beings and elements existed in the world didn’t lessen the
importance or belief in God; it only strengthened it.
“I am,” the vicar answered, with a smile that left no doubt of his sincerity.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“William...”
Moments after his knees hit the ground William could feel Elizabeth’s arms as
they wrapped around him. He accepted them for what they were - comfort, but he
didn’t glance at her. Surely, the sympathy he would see in her eyes for him would
only further serve as, yet more, inescapable proof of his most grievous of sins.
His head turned towards the headstone that bore his name.
"This is where I belong; where I’m supposed to be," William said, his voice a
strained whisper.
“NO! No, it’s not,” Buffy insisted, holding him tighter, against the cold, against the
pain she knew this was causing him, and the numbness she feared would take
root. Over the past months she’d been so afraid that William had permanently
drifted from her, and into his personal hell of suffering. She hadn’t just gotten him
back, only to lose him again!
“You’re here for a reason!” Buffy said, adamantly. “You survived all those years
because you are a survivor. Then you died; saving the world, and the fact that
you’re back now, there’s a reason. There’s a reason...”
He didn’t answer her. For a long time now, William accepted that despite the
prophecy that had brought him back and given him a reprieve, that surely, at the
end of his days Hell awaited him for all the evil he had committed.
He didn't share this with Elizabeth; it would only serve to hurt her. He knew that
like so many other times, she'd try to dissuade him, assuring him that he'd fought
against his nature, defeated evil, and that he’d become, and now was, a good
man. That may have been so, but in his eyes, it didn’t change anything. She may
have been able to save him from his involuntary restraints in Chicago, and from
much bigger, badder evils in Sunnydale, and even those that had come after him
in Julian, but not even she could save him from his past; nobody could. His day
of reckoning would come.
END CHAPTER 200