ONE NORMAL LIFE / TWO EXTRAORDINARY LIVES

CHAPTER 202 – YOU ARE THE WEAK AND I AM THE STRONG

Buffy stood in the hot spray of the shower, mulling over the latest turn of events.

If William thought that she was going to leave him alone to suffer by himself, he had another 'bloody' thing coming. Ever since he'd left the house in Julian, she felt like she'd failed him. She'd be damned if she'd roll over and play proverbial dead again, no matter what.

When the water began to run cold, she was rudely reminded that she already had left him for longer than she’d intended. She picked up her watch from the sink where she’d laid it and checked the time. She had been in the shower for less than twenty minutes, but given the day’s circumstances, along with the way William was acting, it seemed much longer. Hurriedly, she dried off, pulled on her nightgown and robe, and dashed back upstairs.

It was almost completely dark in his room again when she entered. Her pulse quickened, and she felt an icy tendril of fear race up her spine until she heard his snore from across the room. William was there. Buffy didn’t even realize that she’d feared he might not be -- but there it was. She let out a sigh of relief.

Tiptoeing across the room she went over to his side of the bed. For all intents and purposes, he looked peaceful enough in his sleep, more so than he had all day. She was glad for small favors, despite the fact that he’d replaced the tray without touching the food.

Too wired to lay down herself, plus her hair was still wet from the shower, she walked over to the table where the laptop was on standby. Taking a quick glance over at William, she sat down and found the mouse and tapped it until the normal Windows’ screen came on.

Arguing with herself for a moment about the wrongness (spying was too harsh a word) of looking at William’s private correspondence, Buffy decided that the need to know outweighed any other consideration she might give the matter. Crossing her fingers that he’d saved the password on his computer, she clicked on the Internet icon, and was immediately connected.

Starting with the earliest, Buffy skimmed through William's emails from over the last months -- especially the past one. Unfortunately, now all she had was more questions than answers; such as, why the hell had he made reservations for a Thrifty Rent-a-Car, and a room at Stonecross Manor Hotel in some place called Kendal, for tomorrow? Reservations he’d made tonight!

Had she discovered them yesterday, she might have just thought that he wanted to take her away somewhere so they could be alone, but she was pretty damn sure that this wasn’t what this was about. Not to mention, it was a reservation for a single. In her gut, she knew that this was related to what had happened today, but Buffy had also found the same reservations he’d made before she’d even come - for today. They were tied in, but how? Was he trying to leave here when she’d first come and she’d interrupted his plans? There was something else at play here, but what?

Following the link to the hotel, she found that Kendal was in an area called The Lake District. It sounded familiar to her, like something William, or maybe even Spike, had mentioned a long time ago, but she couldn’t be sure. She Googled The Lake District and found out that it was at least a five hour drive from London, if she was figuring out the kilometers correctly. What possible interest did it hold for him? What’s more, why did he make plans to go there without her? It was all Buffy could do to not storm over to the bed and shake William awake, and demand he tell her what the hell was going on. But she couldn’t; not after the day he’d had. Well, at least one of them would be getting some sleep; it sure wasn’t going to be her.

She’d had enough. Exasperated and exhausted from the barrage of worry and emotional tumult of the day, Buffy turned off the computer. If there was more to see, she couldn’t stand to see it right now, anyway.

Shrugging off her robe onto the back of the chair, Buffy rose and walked over to the bed. Pulling back the covers, she crawled in and curled up next to William. Tentatively, she put her arm around him, needing more than anything, the reassurance that only touching him could give her. She knew that his hurt, his pain superceded her own, and hated that she felt so needy right now, but she did. And, when he murmured her name in his sleep and took hold of her hand, entwining his fingers in hers and hugging them to his chest, silent tears of frustration and hurt flowed down her cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~

Underneath Willam's closed lids, his eyes began to move rapidly, as his muscles tensed, and his pulse increased. Like a lifeline, he hugged Elizabeth’s hand to his heart, but it wasn’t enough. He could feel the nightmare pulling him further and further down, back to a place in time he never wanted to revisit again, back where it all began...

Disgraced and humiliated beyond measure, William hurried through
old London back streets, not seeing or caring where his feet took him. Viciously, he ripped apart his worthless scribblings, leaving their scraps in his wake like breadcrumbs in a forest.

The scornful voices and tittering laughter of his so-called peers -- encouraged by no less by his own brother -- and the scathing remarks of the woman he had professed to love, still rang in his ears.

“Watch where you’re going!” William cried, as a man knocked into him.

Too far to walk home, and with his horse and driver still back at the Cornwall’s home, he stumbled into an old carriage house in order to pull himself together. Sniffling like the pathetic ponce he was, he flopped down onto a bale of hay, head in hands. Anger rising in him, he swiped at the dampness on his cheeks, when all at once, he sensed he was no longer alone. His head whipped up as he looked around for the intruder.

“I see you’ve come back to where it all began," spoke a female voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Startled, he shot up, nearly tripping backwards over the hay.

With an intimacy that was as familiar as it was disturbing, she spoke to him again; "You always come back to me, my pretty William."

“Who are you? How do you know me?” William stammered as he continued to look around to find the owner of the voice.

“I’ve always known you -- in all your lives, in all your incarnations. You are the weak, and I am the strong. That’s why you need me.”

“Show yourself, I say!” William demanded, though fearing his voice belied his pounding heart.

Out of the shadows he watched as she emerged; the dainty shoes upon her feet first, followed by her flowing skirts, resplendent in black and scarlet brocade. Finally, he saw her. An exotic and impossibly pale beauty, her gossamer black hair curled around her perfect ivory face, offset by full, blood-red lips. Wide-set and knowing dark eyes held him in her gaze.

“What do you want with me?” William asked, his voice going up a timbre.

“Only to show you who you were meant to be,” she said.

“What do you mean, who I was meant to be?”

“I think you know,” she said, her eyes reflecting gold in the light.

“I don’t know any such thing. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Tell me you haven’t yearned to be strong, powerful, full of glory -- to be the person you were meant to be; not who these fools you run from tell you that you are, tell you who you’re supposed to be.”

Mesmerized, William found himself nodding, for no one had ever spoken to him like this before.

“They tell you that you’re weak, but they lie. The stars whisper it to me: Psst, psst, psst. I’ll show you; show you how to be strong, how to be the animal that you were meant to be. Would you like that?”

“Yes,.. I mean no! I mean, that’s far enough!” William gasped, backing away. He’d barely seen her move, yet suddenly, she was less than a foot away, and the way she’d moved-- it was as if she’d floated, rather than walked.

She stopped, but William held no illusions that it was the force of his words that made her do so. He shivered despite himself.

“Poor lost doggie, I’ll show you what you’ve been missing.”

“No, that’s quite alright. I must be going, mother is…What the…?” William’s words faded as the air around him begin to shimmer. Looking down, he was shocked to see himself attired in clothes he’d never seen before. The expensive, tailored, gray suit he had been wearing only moments before, had been replaced by a pair of common, black trousers made of a heavy material, and a dark blue, long-sleeved shirt that he wore...

That he wore yesterday when he was with Elizabeth.

He remembered.

That didn’t explain why he was back in this place, except that that something was playing him. William’s jaw clenched as his eyes bore into Drusilla’s.

“Oops, bad dog came back wrong,” she sing-songed.

"I know who I am, and I know who you are, too,” William said bravely, now actively looking around for a weapon.

“Do you now?”

“Damn right I do. You’re dead...a thing...and I’m a man!”

“Is that right? So you think you’re this person, do you? Is that what your heart tells you? Does it beat in rhythm to its lies? ‘Lub-dub; I’m a normal man. Lub-dub; living a normal life. Lub-dub; in love with a normal woman?’ Is that what your lying heart sounds like?"

“What do you know about a heart?” William shot back.

“I know yours was mine for over one-hundred years…and that you used to bring fresh ones to me, straight out of the corpse still pulsing with blood.”

“Shut up! Shut your gob!” William yelled, and spat on the ground near her feet, but her words rattled him.

"Poor, lost soul, believing more lies," she said, as she swayed from side to side. "Lies tell you you're a man, a good man. Who dared tell you that?”

William took a shuddering breath and reached deep down inside himself. In that fraction of a second, he saw the ticker tape of his life as it had been for the past year and a half. Most of all, he saw Elizabeth’s eyes as they reflected something back he couldn't see in himself anymore, but that she still did.

“She did. She believes in me.”


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

Buffy didn’t realize that she’d fallen asleep until she felt William’s hand reach around her to pull her tight against his body. She was soon aroused as his splayed fingers caressed her bottom. In response, she drowsily traced circles down his chest and stomach, until her fingers barely skimmed underneath the waistband of the jeans he still wore. Moaning, he quickly undid the button of his jeans for her, but before she could touch him, he surprised her by roughly pushing her hand away.

“What is it? What’s wrong?’

William didn’t answer, rolling over onto his back; he lifted up, and pulled down his pants, kicking the covers onto the floor in the process. Without any preamble, he rolled over on top of her and pushed her nightgown up to her neck. Ignoring her attempt to kiss him, his mouth latched onto a nipple, while his other hand readied himself above her opening.

“Oh, God!” Buffy was all managed to squeak out, as he slammed into her, his cock impossibly hard.

Buffy’s breath hitched at the unexpected roughness and intensity he was showing, considering the mood he’d been in earlier. More than she would care to admit; there was something primal about it, reminding her of the type of sex she’d had with Spike after being resurrected. However, she had long ago made her peace with that ugly time. They had overcome that and so much more. Still, she couldn't help but make the comparison. It was like something was missing. Roughness and passion were one thing, but this was as though...

Buffy managed to grab hold of William’s face and forcibly lifted it from her breast. Never slowing down his pace, William tried to shake her off, but she held on, staring into his eyes. He might as well have had them closed for all the good it did her. She’d had an inkling that he wasn’t quite all there, but it wasn’t until he didn’t respond when she told him that she loved him, or when she said his name, that she knew for sure.

William was still asleep!

In some ways it was a relief. Roughness during passion was one thing, but a lack of feeling was entirely something else; she knew the difference. Hell, she'd written the book, and it was something she never wanted to go back to.

Not seeing any point in waking him, and for selfish reasons borne of her own need for comfort vis-à-vis, sex-as-escape, Buffy released her grip on his face and let him continue on.

Despite William being oblivious, her body still responded to him as it always had and it didn’t take long for her to find release. William followed a few moments later. Buffy rubbed his back as he lay there collapsed on top of her, until she was sure he’d fallen back into a deep sleep. That is, until she tried gently to push him off of her. Gripping her tightly, he rolled them both over onto their sides, and pulled her leg up over his hip, so that he was still inside her. She could live with that.

This time when she tried to kiss him he didn’t turn away, murmuring her name in his sleep, before nuzzling his head against her breasts. Buffy closed her eyes. They had a lot to talk about tomorrow, but for now, they could both rest.

That hope was short-lived.

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

Buffy found herself startled awake by William crying out in his sleep and thrashing against her. Alarmed, she held him tighter and tried to calm him with soothing words. She even tried to shake him awake, but he seemed resistant to all her attempts.

What’s more, like some deep, dark eddy pulling her under the surface of her own reality, she found herself being sucked down into William’s nightmare.

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

“No, please, no!” William yelled, as once more the air around him began to shimmer again.

He was suffocating.

William’s hands flew to his throat as he desperately tried to get air to pass into his lungs. His eyes flew open, the colors changing from blue to black to yellow, then back to blue. Abruptly, the gasping stopped as the air stilled.

Taking his hands away from his throat, he shrugged his shoulders and rolled his head. He grinned at the satisfying sound of bones in his back and neck clicking and cracking, like things falling into place. He felt himself strumming with power as familiar as the garments he now wore - from the chipped, black nail polish, to his scuffed Doc Martens, to his trademark, black leather coat stolen off of that slayer he killed in New York. His hands went up to his head, and he smiled as he patted the hardened hair gel holding his white hair in place. Fishing into his pocket, he pulled out his Zippo, and a pack of cigarettes. The lighter clicked open with its familiar, metallic sound. He lit his cigarette, and dragged the acrid smoke deep into his lungs.

“Ooh, ooh, ooh, my bad dog is back!” Drusilla said, clapping her hands together like an excited child.

With a glint in his eyes, he stalked over to her. Not quite touching, his hand drifted around her hair and with a suggestive grin, his tongue touched the bottom of his lip, as he leered at her.

“So, how do you feel now? Is this better?”

“One could say, but for one thing, luv.”

“What’s that my pretty William?.”

“I’m hungry. Starved, actually.”

The woman smiled knowingly, and moved aside, allowing him to see behind her.

Against the far wall, with hands shackled above her head, stood his slayer.

“Yes,” he said as his mouth quirked into a cruel smile. “That’s definitely more like it.”


END CHAPTER 202