Chapter 17 Are you ready?
Los Angeles
Quentin Travers was tired and worn out when he made his way down the block to his apartment building. He had spent the greater portion of the night having a drink and catching up with an old friend of his who had come to Los Angeles to pay him a visit. Imagine his surprise when he took in the sight of said friend’s nephew sprawled out on the front steps of his apartment complex.
He stared for a moment at the shivering body at his feet before kneeling down to gently wake him. Spike’s brows were furrowed and his face was contorted in a way that can only be described as fearful. He was obviously dreaming or, more likely, having a nightmare. What’s going on in that head of yours, child? Quentin shook his head sadly at the sight of the grown man who was shivering at his steps and who was, in so many ways, still the lost boy that he had met a long time ago in London. Not that Spike remembered their very first meeting, of course.
“William?” he nudged his shoulder and Spike only shifted a few centimeters in his sleep. Travers nudged him again. “William? You have to wake up? You have to get up so we can go inside. William?”
Sighing in frustration when Spike only wrapped his arms tighter around himself, he brought the palm of his hand to Spike’s face and slapped him lightly.
“Leave him alone!” Spike jumped up, eyes wide and frantic.
“It’s me, it’s just me,” Dr. Travers patted his shoulders, trying to soothe him as his eyes adjusted to the scene around him and he took in his environment.
“Doc?” He was confused. “What are you doing round here?”
“I should be asking you that, son,” Dr. Travers chuckled, getting up to his feet and holding out a hand to help Spike up. “You’re the one who’s been sleeping on my doorstep.”
“Have I now?” Spike scratched his head, still a little disoriented as he took the hand offered to him and stood up. “Hm. Funny that.”
“Nightmare, I presume?” Dr. Travers opened the door and led the way to his apartment. The inside of the building contrasted the outside like warm against cool. The walls were wooden and the floors were a plush, maroon carpet, the lighting was brightened to be welcoming and the baroque finishing gave the atmosphere a quaint touch.
“How did you know?” Spike mumbled. Dr. Travers pushed the button for the elevator.
“Well, when you yelled at me to ‘leave him alone’,” the elevator chimed and promptly opened. Both men stepped in. “That was a bit of a giveaway.”
“Oh.”
“So, do you want to talk about it?” Dr. Travers pressed on. Spike stared at the elevator buttons and shrugged his shoulders.
“Not really, no,” he said, flatly.
“You do know I’m talking to you as a friend now, do you?”
Spike looked up, surprised. “So you’re my friend now, doc?”
Dr. Travers nodded. “As a friend, I feel more at liberty to tell you what I really think about things. And personally, I think what you need right now is a friend. Not a doctor.”
“Uh huh,” Spike said slowly. “All that just to hear about my dreams? Always knew you were a bit loony.” Dr. Travers chuckled and shrugged.
“To each his own.”
The elevator opened and the two men stepped out, Travers taking the lead. The short hallway leading to his apartment was brightly lit and homely, smelling of cedar wood and home-cooked food. Quentin Travers dug in his pants pocket and fished out a small gold key and opened the oak door that gave way with a little groan.
“Nice place you have here, doc,” Spike said, looking around after Travers had flicked on the lights. They walked into a living room with two comfortable looking sofas, a couch, a small TV, and three full bookshelves covering the entire fall wall. “Suits you.”
“Thank you,” Dr. Travers hung up his coat on a small rack by the door and reached out for Spike’s duster. “Make yourself at home.”
“Not sure you’d really appreciate that,” Spike smirked thoughtfully, “That is,… unless you like half-empty beer bottles and dirty pizza boxes all over your floor.”
Dr. Travers visibly winced a little and shook his head, making his way into the kitchen. “Can I offer you some tea or coffee? I have a bottle of Scotch in here, too, but I try not to make it a practice to drink alcoholic beverages in my home.”
“I’m fine,” Spike walked around the room, running his hand over the top of the worn down sofa and inspecting the plaques on the wall. “Oy! I didn’t know you went to Cambridge.”
“Born and raised there,” Dr. Travers called from the kitchen, pulling out some tea packets from a drawer. “Only made sense that I’d stay there for University.”
“No kidding,” Spike admired the plaque and moved onto another picture. “I was born in a town near Sutton, about 15 or so miles from Cambridge.”
“How very interesting,” the tea kettle was set on the stove to start heating and Dr. Travers walked out into the living room to join Spike. “What made you move over to this side of the pond?”
“Mum died,” he replied, then changed the subject immediately. “This you over here?” he pointed at golden-framed photograph.
“Yes, that’s me,” Quentin laughed quietly, stepping up next to the picture.
“You knew Uncle Rupes?”
“Good friend of mine. Used to give me hell if I ever called him by Rupert, though.” Spike looked up, surprised at his admission. Quentin went on to explain, “He used to go by Ripper. We were in a band together when we were only teenagers, didn’t he ever tell you that?”
“Bugger me… Uncle Rupert?” Spike burst out laughing. “In a band? And he gives me a headache about Spike. He’ll never be able to live this one down, I’ll tell you this much.”
Dr. Travers smiled at the laughter coming from his patient, recently friend. It was a nice sound and one that he had never really heard before. At least not a good, old, genuine laugh like the one right now.
“Yes, we used to be quite the devils,” he chuckled along with him before sobering up. “There was only one thing that kept him standing on the ground.”
“Really?” Spike hiccupped, trying to control himself. “And what was that?”
Looking directly at him, Quentin replied softly, “You’re mother.”
Spike froze up and turned to him in surprise, but before he could say anything, the tea kettle wailed and Dr. Travers turned to go into the kitchen to tend to it, leaving Spike standing there with his mouth open.
…………
New York
“Gabriel!” Buffy laughed as he dragged her through the busy streets of New York. A taxi angrily honked at them as they illegally dashed across the street. “Come on, just tell me!”
“Nope,” Gabriel grinned, “it’s a surprise.”
Buffy pouted, but he stuck his tongue out at her, making her break out in giggles. They rounded a corner into an emptier and dirtier street.
Gabriel laced his fingers with hers and swung their arms back and forth. “Almost there…”
“This place is in an alleyway?” Buffy wrinkled her nose.
“Hey, this is no alleyway,” he protested. “Alleyways are gross, muddy, dirty, and obscene. This isn’t any of those. It seems a little weird at first, but I guess you just need to open your eyes wider to see it’s charms. Look up there.”
He stopped suddenly and pointed towards a stained glass window about three or four stories up. Buffy backed up and tilted her head upwards to look at it. The sunlight glistened off the many colors, producing a rainbow haze and making the window gleam. The cross in it’s center lit up and seemed to shine up the entire street.
“Wow,” she murmured.
“It was a church,” he told her, still holding her hand. “It was built sometime in the 1800’s, but it’s abandoned. They don’t use it as a church anymore. And look over there.”
She shifted her gaze over to where his hand pointed at and saw a hop-scotch drawn out in the middle of the street with street chalk. The lines were a little curvy and the messy letters hinted that a small child had drawn it.
“What is this place?” she asked him.
“Follow me,” he smiled and began pulling her along after him as he made his way to a rotting, wooden door.
…………
Los Angeles
Spike sat uneasily on the sofa, staring perplexedly at his cup of tea. Dr. Travers was seated at the armchair off to the side and was looking curiously at his patient – recently, friend. Both of them were trying to read the other and both of them failing to miserably.
Dr. Travers decided to break the silence.
“So, William,” he started and Spike sharply looked up. “Why don’t you tell me about that nightmare you were having on my doorstep earlier.”
“You’re really bent up about this, aren’t you?” Spike raised an eyebrow and sighed, placing his tea on the wooden table. Dr. Travers narrowed his eyes and got up to retrieve a coaster.
“Quite,” he muttered, coming back and putting it under the mug. Spike inwardly laughed at his actions and just leaned back.
“I’m telling you, it was no big deal,” he said. “Just my mind being… well, my mind. I just had an encounter with Drusilla and naturally, I was having a nightmare about her… and a .. wolf of some sort, but that’s all. What of it?”
“Encounter with Drusilla, you said?” Travers asked, thinking for a moment. “Ah, your girl-”
Spike suddenly cut him off, “Have you ever had a recurring dream, doc?” Travers looked up from his tea, surprised.
“No, can’t say I have,” he mused, thoughtfully. “Why do you ask? Have you been having recurring dre-?”
“What do you reckon they mean?” Spike cut him off again, his eyes swiveled up to the ceiling, seemingly in thought. Dr. Travers studied him carefully before talking.
“Well, most people don’t really think that dreams mean anything in particularly,” he said slowly, “supposedly, dreams are your subconscious,.. thoughts that wander around in your brain. A recurring dream might be something that’s bothering you…”
Spike stayed silent and Dr. Travers continued, “Sometimes, you must learn to trust what your subconscious thinks, William. It knows you better than you know yourself. I like to think that your dreams reflect the things you fear, the things you regret, a past you hide, a secret your trying to protect… that sort of thing.”
Dr. Travers paused for a moment and waited until Spike was looking him directly in the eye before beginning again. “The question to ask isn’t ‘what do my dreams mean’… It’s ‘am I ready to face my monsters?’. It’s your decision, William. Are you ready to face the monsters?”
...........................................................
A/N: next chapter... Spike'll learn some things about himself. And you'll figure out where Gabriel's taking Buffy...
Sorry about the delay... Major, major writing block plus AP test reviews started up... SAT's... that sorta thing.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I'm not really happy with this chapter... something about it doesn't ring right, but i figured i'd post it up and see if something comes to me. It's building up to the next chapter which will be a turning point for Spike, especially.