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Chapter 17

“We need to talk.”

He was pretty sure that never the course of time had anything good ever started with that phrase? He’d barely been back at the hotel for more than thirty minutes before she’d called and uttered those fateful words. He’d offered a simple acquiescence to her request and told her to go on.

“No, it’s - it’s kind of one of those things that need to be face-to-face.”

That had definitely confirmed it. Whatever she had to say wasn’t good. Problem was, he had no clue what it could be. Then again, he’d only been out of that box at the bottom of the ocean for a few hours now, so he was pretty much out of the loop about a lot of things.

“Buffy, is something wrong?” He’d asked.

“It’s kind of hard to explain. Hence the whole face-to-face thing.” She’d answered. “We’ll be there in a couple of hours if that’s ok?”

“Yeah, sure. Will you, uh, be staying a while?”

Several seconds of silence made him wonder if she’d hung up on him.

“Honestly? I don’t know. We’ll, uh, be there soon though.”

We? So it was more than just her coming. That somehow gave him even more of a foreboding feeling. If this was something simple, she’d just come alone like she had before. Whatever it was, it was big. And dire. He just wished he’d had a bit more time to recover from his starvation and exile before he had to deal with the next end of the world scenario.

He glanced at the clock when he heard a car pull up out front. Either he had an unsolicited client dropping in, or Buffy and whomever else was with her were right on time.

He watched the doors with anticipation. The moment he saw her again after so long was always one of both turmoil and elation. Turmoil that all they had anymore were brief moments divided by vast expanses of time that even to an aging vampire seemed to last forever. Elation that he got to see her again and see the beauty of her being, her smile, her heart, he fierceness. And then turmoil again that those things would never be his to hold again. But this time was different. He was conflicted. He was worried about Cordelia. He’d been on his way to meet her that night, to confess that he’d fallen in love with her. And now, she was gone, and no one knew where or how or why. Maybe he just wasn’t meant to have love. It wasn’t the curse the gypsies had put on him, but it might as well have been.

“Hello?” Her voice called into the expanse of the lobby. Just her, then.

“Buffy?” He walked slowly around the desk. He was still weak as hell, but no need for her to know that.

“Angel!” She smiled brightly at him. It was a smile he’d never grow tired of seeing. He stopped, midway across the lobby, wondering how this was going to go. He need not have worried though, as he found himself wrapped in her arms. Then she stepped back and looked at him, hard.

“Angel, what’s wrong, you look like death!”

“I am dead, Buffy,” He laughed at her.

“You know what I mean,” She swatted him across the chest.

“Long story,” He hedged. “So, you said we needed to talk.”

She suddenly looked really nervous. He looked her over surreptitiously, reaching out with his senses as well. She seemed to be healthy. No signs of illness or injury. She reeked of Spike though. Had she come here to tell him she’d fought him in some epic battle and finally staked him? One could hope.

“Buffy?” He prompted, noticing she was wringing her hands together.

That was the moment the front doors opened again, with two more people strolling into his lobby. Dawn and…

“Spike.” The name dripped from his fangs like venom, and he summoned the strength to carry him toward the intruder. He didn’t know what he was doing with Buffy and Dawn, but he sure as hell wasn’t welcoming this idiot into his home. Particularly after Spike had tortured him for hours the last time he’d seen him.

“Angel!” Buffy was suddenly between him and Spike right before he’d gotten to arm's length of grabbing the younger vampire. He had more than a little pent-up anger and frustration that he couldn't very well direct toward the son he’d kicked out just a few hours ago, but he couldn’t definitely take it out on Spike.

“Angel, stop!” She yelled at him, as he tried to push around her. He spared a glance down at her. “Shake it off! You’re scaring them,” She emphasized, pushing him back a little.

He spared a glance at Dawn and Spike, in confusion. Dawn had never really been scared of him. And looking at her now, she still wasn’t. In fact, she was standing slightly in front of Spike, almost like she was trying to protect him. And then he saw Spike put a hand on Dawn’s arm and slowly push her to the side, as he took what seemed to be a shaky step forward.

“Buffy?” Usually, by now, Spike would have jumped at the chance to come at him. So why was he looking like a penitent coming to confession? “What going on here? Why is Spike…”

“Angel,” She interrupted him, “That’s not Spike,” She finished softly. Then she took a deep breath and let it out as if trying to find the words or the courage to say something more. In the meantime, he took a second to extend his senses once again. “I’d like you to meet…”

“William?” He breathed out the name. As soon as he’d extended his senses, the heartbeat had slammed into him like a ton of bricks. Spike was human. He looked down at Buffy again, who had stepped back and crossed her arms, looking towards the floor. Her trademark defensive pose when there were things she didn’t want to face.

“Yeah,” She quietly confirmed.

He watched with rapt attention as Spike very slowly took a few deep breaths in and out and then took the few tentative steps needed to bring him into his proximity.

“W-William Pratt,” He hesitantly introduced himself, and offered him a handshake.

He glanced again at Buffy, so many questions swirling around his head, he couldn’t even put one of them to words.

“Bumpies!” Buffy stage whispered and twirled her fingers around in front of her face.

He looked back at Spike, shifting back into his human face, and staring at him.

“Angel, don’t be rude,” Buffy chided him.

He never took his eyes off of Spike, but he did shake his hand briefly. As soon as he registered the heat of his hand though, he jerked it back as if he’d been burned. Noting that Spike flinched markedly, but didn’t step back.

Suddenly, he felt really damn angry. How the hell did this happen? Why did Spike get to be human? Why had Buffy brought him here of all places?

“Is this what you wanted to tell me?” He turned his fury on Buffy. For her part, she seemed to be appropriately contrite. He closed his eyes, trying to figure out how this was going to go down.

“I need a drink,” He said, as he turned and started walking toward his office.

He’d just finished pouring himself a glass of bourbon and fallen into his desk chair, when Buffy walked into his office, shutting the door behind her.

“How’d it happen?” He asked, staring down into his glass.

“Accidental wish to a vengeance demon,” Buffy answered. Was that regret in her voice? Maybe he imagined it. But it was enough to give him pause. Vengeance demon? There was more going on than she was saying, but he didn’t feel like pushing her. Yet.

“Why are you here, Buffy?” He asked without further preamble.

To her credit, she didn’t seem to notice the petulant edge in his voice as she pulled a chair up on the other side of his desk and sat down.

“He needs answers.” She finally blurted out.

That got his attention.

“Answers for what?” He asked.

“When I said that was William, I wasn’t being all existential.” Her eyes bored into his, conveying the seriousness of what she was saying. “When I made the wish…Spike ceased to exist,” Her breath caught. Interesting. “And became William Pratt.”

Now he really had her attention.

“No time passed for him from when William died, to the moment Spike…” She trailed off. He really didn’t have the patience or mood to deal with the implications of everything she was saying, much less how she was saying it.

“Still not seeing where I come into play here.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice for her sake but mostly failed.

She was quiet for a long time, wringing her hands more, and probably trying to figure out how to say whatever it was she was trying to say. He sipped his bourbon. He could wait. He wasn’t getting any older.

“Angel, I know you said you killed your family when you were turned. And you told me you killed Drusilla’s family before you turned her,” She paused.

“And?” He prompted.

“William… he… we’ve tried to research what happened to his mother. He really wants to know. I-I don’t think he can move on with his life until he does. Giles even checked with the council resources and no one knows what happened. She just… disappeared.”

Now he knew what she was here for. The reason she’d wanted to talk face-to-face.

“You want to know if I killed his family?” He asked without looking up.

“Or Drusilla, or…”

“Spike?” He asked, suddenly looking pointedly at her. She held his gaze for a moment and then nodded her head.

He leaned his head back on the chair, letting it rest on the edge of the seat. How did he proceed here? And now that he thought about it, this was all seeming pretty absurd. She’d dragged a human Spike to LA so they could ask him if he’d killed Spike’s family. Hell, she could have asked that over the phone. He glanced over at Buffy again and noted she was studiously not looking at him, but at her hands in her lap as she waited for his answer.

“No.” He answered her.

“No?” Her head popped up to look at him now. “No, you didn’t or no…”

“No. I’m not going to answer your question,” He clarified.

“Angel…” She sounded dangerously close to begging him for an answer.

“Not to you,” He cut her off. “Only him.”

She looked like the proverbial deer in the headlights. Clearly, she hadn’t expected him to insist he’d only tell Spike the answer to his question. Finally, she nodded and stood up to go.

“Angel?”She asked with her hand on the doorknob.

He turned and looked at her then. Her face was resolute. All of the fear and hesitation was suddenly gone. Which was a little disconcerting to him.

“William isn’t Spike. Spike’s gone, forever. Don’t make William pay for what Spike did. He doesn’t deserve that. He’s innocent, and confused, and hurting,” She paused for a shaky breath. He noted the haunted look that crossed her face. “He isn’t Spike.”

As he watched her turn to go, he took in everything she’d said, and everything she hadn’t said. He stood and walked over to the door and watched Fred and Gunn talking to Dawn and Spike. William, Buffy’d insisted. Buffy entered their circle and asked about rooms, and Fred graciously offered to fix a few rooms for them.

Dawn had grown. Taller, leaner, surer of herself. He wondered if she knew that she unconsciously stood between William and the others. Gunn and Buffy seemed to be hitting it off right away, talking shop and asking if she planned to go patrolling while she was here. For his part, William seemed contented to hang back and watch the others. The glasses should have tipped him off. Had he been wearing them when he walked in? His hair was longer than Spike’s preferred cut for at least the last 80 years or so, though not as long as when he’d first met him. It wasn’t gelled within an inch of its life either, giving body to several loose curls all over. He also hadn’t touched his roots in some time, giving him a not altogether unflattering look, but not one that really fit with the Spike he knew. The clothes were more in line with the first couple of decades they’d been together. The all-black look was gone, replaced with what looked like fitted slacks and a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up a couple of times. The man standing in his lobby really looked more like Wesley than Spike. And he was nervous. His heartbeat was fluttering, though he did a decent job of trying to hide it. Except for the fact he was standing away from everyone, just a step. Everything screamed that he was an outsider. He smiled when he saw the moment Fred recognized the same thing and deliberately grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the group without pause. William seemed momentarily flustered, but Fred wasn’t about to let him out of her grip. No one else seemed to notice what she’d done.

Buffy was right. This wasn’t Spike. But it also wasn’t the William that Drusilla had presented to him more than a century ago.

Then something very interesting happened. Gunn broke off to go fetch some weapons while Dawn and Fred started walking together towards the staircase to go pick out rooms, leaving Buffy and William alone in the lobby. Buffy put a hand on Williams upper arm and asked if he wanted to patrol with her. William’s heart rate kicked into overdrive, and he could just make out a blush beginning to color his cheeks. He saw William’s head snap up as Buffy mentioned that he’d told her he would only tell William what he knew about his mother. He watched as a visible tremor ran through William, prompting Buffy to bring her other hand up and rub his arms as if trying to warm him. He wondered if she even knew she was doing it or the effect it was having on William. He watched William take a step back from her and avoided looking at her, his breathing faster than it should be. Buffy followed him, turning his face to her as she told him to remember that he wasn’t responsible for anything Spike did. He watched William’s fleeting pained expression before he nodded his agreement and then mumbled an excuse about finding his room, before striding away on quick steps, leaving Buffy alone in the lobby.

She hugged her arms around herself and then looked around to see if anyone had seen the interaction. He leaned back into the shadows and out of sight before her eyes got around to him. Not seeing anyone, she walked over to the lobby couch and sank into it with a heavy sigh, resting her head against the back and closing her eyes. The salty scent reached his nose seconds later. He didn’t know what the heck happened or what was going on, but he was definitely going to find out.

A few minutes later, Gunn came bounding down the stairs, ax in hand, causing Buffy to jump into a standing position, quickly swiping at her face. Gunn either didn’t notice or had the grace to pretend he didn’t and passed Buffy a crossbow. She admired the weapon, as well as Gunn’s ax. Moments later they were out the door. If he was going to find out just who this William was, it was now or never.

****************************

“So what’s it like to suddenly find yourself thrown 120 years into the future?” Angel asked him as they strolled down the sidewalk at a leisurely pace. It hadn’t taken much convincing to get William to agree to come with him to one of the local bars. He’d assumed correctly William might be enticed by the idea of a drink or two. He’d seemed to jump at the opportunity to spend some time in the company of another guy. Then again, if Giles was in England, the only other guy in the Sunnydale crew would be Xander, so he probably was pretty desperate for another guy to relate to.

“I-I have to say, it has been quite an adjustment,” William smiled.

He nodded sagely. He’d lived, well-been undead, through the time William came from, he could only imagine what an adjustment it had been if he was anything like the other men of the time. He noted William’s accent was much closer to what it had been when he first met him. More refined like the upper class at the time. Nothing like Spike’s adopted accent.

“Though, I do quite enjoy the trips with Miss Dawn to the Borders book sellers,” He smiled again. “It’s been quite the resource for my research into modern living,” He was almost gushing now. “And the history of everything I’ve missed! The progress of civilization in the last century is simply astounding!” Now he was gushing.

“Still writing poetry?” He asked him, enjoying the slight trip in William’s step when he did.

“You...you know of my compositions?” William asked.

“I’ve heard quite a few of them,” He answered, practically feeling the heat of embarrassment rolling off of William. “I actually liked them.”

“Y-you did?” William asked.

“You used to recite them to Dru all the time,” He told him. “She danced around like a kid at Christmas while you read them, her asking you to recite them over and over again before she’d…” Probably best not to finish that thought.

“Yes?” William certainly seemed eager to hear the rest of it.

“Nothing. Suffice it to say, you definitely had an outlet for your creative pursuits.” That was one way to put it.

“Drusilla?” William asked with more than a hint of curiosity. “She’s the demoness who turned me into a v-vampire, yes?”

He nodded. He’d known William would be curious about his turning. He’d always been curious about everything, relishing the new and unusual. As a newly turned vampire, everything had been new and unusual to him.

“Miss Buffy tells me that she and I were together for over a hundred years?” His curiosity was certainly still predictable.

“More or less,” Angel hedged.

“More or… what do you mean, good sir?” William asked.

“Angel. It’s just Angel,” He let his annoyance get the better of him.

“My apologies,” Angel noted William duck his head, and let out a frustrated sigh. “I forget the formalities are decidedly less formal here.”

“No, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to be short with you. Spike and I weren’t always on the best terms.”

“Ah, I see,” William’s politeness was still automatic.

“I doubt it,” Angel mumbled. they walked in silence briefly before Angel decided to just throw William a bone. “Drusilla wasn’t exactly mentally stable. She was gifted, or cursed depending on your view, with the sight and was driven insane before she was turned. She saw something in you and decided to turn you. You considered her your destiny and took care of her for over a hundred years, yes. But she was never really yours. That’s the thing about being a vampire. You can take what you want, but nothing’s ever really yours. Dru didn’t have the capacity to love you the way you wanted her to,” He finished.

“Oh.” Was the only reply he got. He could practically hear the wheels turning in William’s head.

“We’re here,” Angel pointed at the stairs leading down to the bar, dragging William from his thoughts. He headed down the stairs, reminding William that much of the clientele would be demons, but that it was a mostly peaceful bar so no one would hurt them.

They settled into one of the booths along the back wall as he ordered his usual, Absinthe, drawing a speculative look from William, who only ordered a brandy. When the waitress gave them a look of amusement, Angel told her to just bring a shot of whiskey on ice.

“What was I like? As this Spike fellow?” William asked, with more curiosity than Angel cared to acknowledge.

Angel watched William intently, trying to gauge what it was that William really wanted to know. Did he want a play by play rundown of what he did as a vampire? Was he curious about his exploits? What was driving this request? He had a feeling he knew but didn’t want to come out and say it.

“Why?” Angel asked him.

“Beg pardon?”

“Why do you want to know about Spike?”

William sat back and breathed out a heavy sigh. He had the feeling William had needed to talk for a while but hadn’t decided how or to whom.

“She, that is to say, Miss Buffy, likes to say that I am not him, that I am not to blame for any of his deeds,” William confided. “I fear that she does not see that he and I are one and the same. It’s as if, she believes that we are two separate individuals, rather than a simple evolution of one into the other. I fear, perhaps, that the distinction between this Spike and I is far less certain that she realizes.” He was silent for several seconds. “Sorry, I do tend to ramble a bit.”

“And how long have you been in love with her?” He asked. He couldn’t help it.

He laughed at William’s shocked expression, watching him turn a deep shade of crimson. If the guy got any redder, they might mistake him for one of the demons in the bar.

“You’re right about one thing. Who you were has a hell of a lot to do with who you become. And if there’s one thing that’s consistent between you and Spike, it’s that you are truly, how’d you put it, love’s bitch.”

William sputtered indignantly, protesting his vulgarity, drawing a perpetual smirk from him. In the end, William sank back into his seat in a defeated huff.

“Is it that obvious?” William asked dejectedly.

“Only to anyone with eyes,” He laughed. “To be fair, you’re doing a decent job of trying to hide it. Which begs the question,” He leaned forward. “Why?”

“A gentleman must…” William began to recite something automatically.

“Cut the crap,” That got William’s attention. “You’ve adjusted to malls, cars, and Border’s bookstores in what I'm guessing is just a few weeks or months. You’ve learned demons are real and probably even patrolled with Buffy a few times. Not to mention, adjusted to a complete change in the customs and clothing that’s happened in the last hundred years. So let’s try this again. Why?”

For a long time, he didn’t think William was going to answer. He watched as he swished the whiskey around in his glass, almost mesmerized by the movement of the liquor and ice around it.

“She wished me dead, you know?” William finally broke the silence. “Or rather, him. They’d had an argument, you see, and he’d done something so gravely offensive that in her perilous state of mind she wished me, him, into oblivion.”

That elicited a low rumble from him. Which he quashed at William’s alarmed look. He made a mental note to talk to Buffy more tomorrow.

“The bother of it is,” William continued on after a few more seconds. “I think it is him that she still cares for, and I fear that I simply can’t compete with the specter for which she still grieves.” William’s smile was both knowing and sad. He’d always been an intuitive little bastard.

“The moment I gazed upon her, I knew within my very soul that she was the one I was meant to find, and I can’t imagine spending my life without her.” William sighed deeply. “But I do not deserve such a resplendent being. I truly am beneath her. I just wish to know what it was that made her heart so completely his that she would forgive the unforgivable and then grieve his loss.” Angel watched as William finished off his drink.

William had it bad. And for some strange reason, it made Angel a little sympathetic for the guy. But only a little.

“Drusilla told me you wanted to turn your mother, to cure whatever illness she had.” Angel watched as William tried to wrap his mind around his statement. “Said the pixies told her that while she’d been out feeding, you’d cured the woman and killed the demon. My guess is that when she rose you set loose a demon you hadn’t expected, and she left you no choice but to stake her.”

“But, mother could never…”

“We all could, William, that’s the problem. That’s why, as a general rule, we don’t turn family. Best to just kill them and move on. Dru should have taught you that, or done it herself. It’s a good thing I didn’t know she was planning to turn you or it would have been the first lesson I made sure you learned.”

William stared at him, dumbstruck, a look of pure horror frozen on his face.

“They’ll be back from patrol soon.” He stood up, and fished several dollars out of his wallet and threw them on the table. “We should head back.”

He didn’t wait to see if William would follow him. He knew he would. They walked in silence the rest of the way back.

When they arrived back at the hotel, they were greeted by the whole crew assembled in the lobby catching each other up on all the recent events of both LA and Sunnydale. He greeted them all and integrated himself into the conversation as William barely moved more than a few feet into the lobby, seeming to be at a loss what to do or where to go. It only took a few minutes for Buffy to notice William wasn’t joining them. She sent him a questioning glance, silently inquiring about what had happened.

“I answered his question,” He supplied quietly, watching her closely to see her reaction. She didn’t disappoint.

He stood there listening to the others talking, watching as Buffy walked over to William. She’d barely touched his arm before he shook her off and beat a quick path toward the rooms. He could tell she wanted to follow, but she was conflicted. After a few seconds of short pacing and what looked like some internal debating, she stopped and looked towards the stairs. She glanced back at them briefly, then back to the stairs. After another few seconds, he saw the moment she finally made her decision.

She turned and ran for the stairs.





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