“ You are now at a crossroads. This is your opportunity to make the most important decision you will ever make. Forget your past. Who are you now? Who have you decided you really are now? Don't think about who you have been. Who are you now? Who have you decided to become? Make this decision consciously. Make it carefully. Make it powerfully.”
Anthony Robbins
Will stood from his bed and wearily ambled toward the door. This time, he easily turned the knob on his first try. He stepped into the hallway, and his gaze lingered only momentarily on the wooden barrier between himself and Buffy, before he headed into the loo.
He closed the door quietly behind him and flicked on the light switch. His lids involuntarily closed, shielding his sensitive eyes from the harsh fluorescent lights, before they gradually fluttered opened. Once his eyes became accustomed to the brightness, Will moved in front of the mirror and stared intently at man in the glass. It had been a long time since he really looked at himself.
He looked like shit. Well, that was an understatement. It was clearly evident how drained he felt, both emotionally and mentally, as fatigue hung like a heavy veil over his features. He’d noticed several more lines had joined the others at the corners of his eyes and across his forehead. His natural hair color, a stark contrast to his bleached tresses, was evident at the exposed roots. While he continued to seek out more imperfections, his exploration ended when his eyes locked firmly on his own gaze.
Despite all these tell-tale signs of exhaustion, his eyes were the same blue they’d always been. However, by the same token, they were different, ever changing.
When he had been William, their depths shone with the innocence and naiveté of youth, with a hint of sadness due to his parents' short, difficult lives, and the cruelty of others. As Spike, they were constantly brimming with anger and hostility, which intensified when he stood against and took down his adversaries, tearing them apart with his harsh words and brutal blows. However now, the man before him wasn’t William or Spike; he was Will, a combination of both—two sides of the same coin.
At times he’d believed the idea of seeing himself as three distinct people was utter madness. Only a narcissist, an egomaniac, or someone who tried to deny themselves in their purest form did that. Nonetheless, even though he knew his Three Faces of Eve were all the same man, there were only certain people privy to the side of himself that remained well hidden and fiercely protected by his other personalities.
Will continued to stare intently into his eyes. Soon, his vision became blurry, while his earlier memories resumed their trek.
At first, he had a very difficult time adjusting to life in California and living with his Uncle Rupert. Fortunately for him, Rupert was patient, kind, and understanding. He’d given Spike the space he’d needed, which he’d used to his full advantage. For the first few months, Spike had rarely seen his uncle and had spoken to him even less.
Spike spent his days locked away in his room and would only come out in the dead of the night to eat and watch telly. The only reasons he believed his uncle knew he was still alive was by the obnoxiously loud punk music Spike blared behind his closed bedroom door and the substantial amount of food missing from the kitchen.
After several months, during one of his rare daytime outings from his room, Rupert had tried to engage him in a conversation—which had been completely one-sided. During those five minutes, Rupert had cornered Spike in the kitchen and had suggested due to his outstanding grades and intelligence, he should take the California High School Proficiency Examination, so he could head straight to university in September.
Spike didn't respond or even give his uncle a second glance as he passed him and went into the pantry to grab a box of Weetabix before heading back to his room. He disregarded his uncle’s suggestion immediately. Spike wanted no part of going to school and certainly had no intentions of staying in California. His plans were already set. The day he was of age, he was on the first plane to London and eventually back to Drusilla’s side.
However, after one eventful summer night, despite his previous adamancy, he forgot those plans completely. That night there was a power outage. The sweltering heat had made staying upstairs unbearable, and no matter how he’d tried, Spike was unable to get comfortable. Soon, against his better judgment, he’d decided to head downstairs. The house was dark and quiet, and he didn’t see his uncle anywhere. Spike decided to look for him, since there was nothing else to do to pass the time until the lights came back on.
He didn’t have to go very far. He soon found his uncle out on the terrace, sitting under the stars and reading by the soft glow of a gas lantern. When curiosity quickly replaced boredom, Spike stepped quietly out the back door onto the brick patio to see what type of story would make his uncle clearly disregard the heat and the poor lighting in his eagerness to read. After several steps, he was close enough to make out the title: The Lifted Veil by George Eliot.
It had been almost nine months since he’d picked up a book or even had any desire to indulge in his past interests. However, seeing the name in golden letters across the leather bound cover made his heart clench. It had been so long since he had allowed any thoughts of his past to come forward. They had been stored in the deepest recesses of his mind. For these past months, he’d hidden behind the tough exterior of Spike. He’d never let anyone close, nor had he shown any emotions—especially not his pain.
For the first time since he had become Spike, the pain of his mum’s passing swelled and crashed inside him. He briefly closed his eyes, attempting to block out the visual trigger of these rushing memories. Soon there came an unfamiliar feeling of hot tears started spilling down his cheeks. The intense need to breakdown—to purge these bottled up feelings by screaming, crying, and breaking things overwhelmed him.
Quickly, he turned toward the door to head back into the safety of his room. He only took a few steps before his uncle’s voice rang out into the quiet night, stilling him instantly.
Since Rupert hadn’t acknowledged his presence earlier, Spike had assumed he didn’t know he was there. Of course he knew. Rupert was overall far more perceptive than Spike had ever given him credit for.
“She was an incredibly brilliant woman. She shared an extraordinary love with a man, who some say was her soul mate. I know she means a lot to you. She means a lot to me, too, always has. Despite the length of time between, um…readings, I’ve cherished all the times she’s been in my life. She’s truly missed, um, by the literary community.”
Without a word, Spike turned from the door and looked at his uncle. He could see in the dim light his eyes shone with unshed tears. Tentatively, he walked toward Rupert and sat in the empty patio chair next to him. They sat in silence for several moments before Spike whispered, “I miss her too.”
Their relationship changed after that night. They had grown closer, and after some time had passed, he allowed Rupert to call him Will. This name was a compromise, since he didn’t want to be called William, and Rupert refused to call him by that “bloody ridiculous moniker.”
Rupert had renewed Will’s love for literature, encouraged him to continue keeping his journal, which he hadn’t written in since the day of his mum’s passing, and taught him how to play guitar and write lyrics. Within a week after the night on the patio, he’d signed up to take the proficiency examination, and a month later he had enrolled for the fall semester at UCLA.
Will remembered the first day he stepped on campus. While he walked along the quad toward his first class, his previously longtime companions of apprehension and awkwardness began to bubble up inside. He knew he was a walking contradiction to all those milling around on campus. His black on black attire, platinum hair, and pale skin were a far cry from the array of bright colors and pastels worn by the other bronzed-skinned students.
However, he quickly pushed past these feelings and brought out the side of himself that never showed fear or uncertainty. After shifting into his Spike persona, he continued toward his first class. Despite his cool exterior, the reservations that he shouldn’t be there still troubled him slightly.
He’d never believed in fate much, regardless of what part of his personality was in the forefront. He was more of a you-make-your-own-way kind of guy. However, it was difficult to ignore, even for a skeptic like himself, the tell-tale signs he received during his very first class, Introduction to Literature. While the professor gave his spiel about what the class entailed, he handed out the syllabus. There, on the very top of the list of famous writers they would be discussing that semester was her name, George Eliot. He knew right then and there, this was where he was meant to be.
His first year went by smoothly, and during his second year of school, he moved into his own apartment; however, he’d remained close to Rupert. Despite what his uncle called him, everyone else knew him as Spike, the brash-talking, whiskey-swigging punk, who looked like pure trouble, but could win any battle of the wits without batting an eye.
Two years later, he graduated Summa Cum Laude and Valedictorian, with a BA in Comparative Literature. Despite the dozens of offers to continue on to graduate school and several small newspapers looking for a gopher, he knew he wasn’t the shirt and tie type, and he needed time to decide what he truly wanted to do.
While pondering what to do “when he grew up,” he got a job as a bouncer at a gentleman’s club—more specifically, a gay nightclub called the Double Meat Palace or DMP for short. Despite the fact that many straight men would have an issue working there, Spike was not one of them.
Overall, it was a decent job. The pay was good with half-priced drinks and food, and every Wednesday night was open-mic night, and his boss, Lorne, let him sing a song or two and play his guitar.
There were patrons who hit on him claiming they loved the whole “creature of the night” vibe they said he gave off, but it never went any further. After he politely turned them down and following their usual comments of how his cheekbones, eyes, and lips were wasted on a straight guy, they would head off looking for another “hottie.”
It was at the DMP where he met one of his closest mates, Doyle. They both started working there at the same time. Their positions opened up when the previous bouncer and bartender broke up an ensuing drama, which quickly littered the bar with broken bottles, screams, and flying fists. Lorne had promptly fired the ex-lovers.
He and Doyle hit it off immediately. They would hang out regularly, both on their nights off and after work. Usually after their shift in the early morning hours, they would always hit a local diner to grab something to eat before they headed their separate ways.
Even though they had their regular hangouts, Doyle had suggested another greasy spoon that he had walked by after he’d missed his bus stop the night before. Despite the particularly rough night at work, Spike had agreed on trying this new place, so they headed toward the all-night diner he’d suggested, to grab a plate of runny eggs and some coffee.
Important Side Notes:
Three Faces of Eve was a 1957 movie staring Joanne Woodward. It was about a woman who had DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) formally known as Multiple Personality Disorder ---oh, and yes, the comments about being an egomaniac and the like was a shot at Angel/Angelus!
The Lifted Veil by George Eliot was a novella about a man who was gifted/cursed with the ability to see into the future and other’s thoughts.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Hey, look, a new chapter! I hope I still have your attention and you are still enjoying this. Huge thanks to my betas, the lovely Sanityfair and Diebirchen. I'm wary about this chapter, and I will gratefully appreciate if you let me know what you think.
Chapter End Notes:
Well...*peeking through my fingers* what did you think? I know its so much shorter than my usual chapters, but I felt that this couldn't have been latched onto the last chapter, or placed at the beginning of the next, so it needed to be all by it's lonesome. Hopefully it worked.