Chapter 21
Author's Notes: There’s only one more flashback chapter following this one. And a few lines toward the end of this chapter were stolen lovingly from William Shakespeare.
New England, 1701 For the first time since they’d sealed their blood together, he was fighting himself to keep from sharing every wretched feeling tearing through his body with her. He didn’t want her to feel this. What he experienced physically was inconsequential—if Elizabeth knew of it, she would spend the rest of her days haunted by his pain. He wouldn’t allow that. He couldn’t.
Just as he wouldn’t allow many things.
It was called the Killer of the Dead by vampires. There was no documentation on when it was first concocted and used against his kind; it might as well have materialized out of nothing. William had only seen it once—a nest of vampires determined to play cruel jokes on younger, more impressionable fledglings. A prank of sorts; the fledgling who could drink the poison and survive was accepted.
No one mentioned the poison had no cure.
No cure save one.
Blood. Slayer blood.
He honestly didn’t know where that rumor began. The cure to his current affliction was slayer blood. It was simply there—floating around among some of vampiric society’s higher circles. Whether or not it had been proven was another matter. In any regard, he’d made up his mind within an instant of recognition that he would keep the alleged miracle cure to himself.
He didn’t know if it were true, and he wasn’t going to risk his girl’s life. Not for anything.
His life was nothing. Hers was the only one which mattered.
William did his best to smile as Elizabeth knelt down beside him, pressing a damp cloth to his brow. He hated the look in her eyes—the guilt-contorted devastation that she couldn’t hope to hide from him. It consumed her; it saturated every move of her glorious body. He hated the small breaths she took when he knew she was trying to keep herself composed. The way her hand trembled every time she touched him. The sobs emanating from the other room where she was weeping.
His beautiful girl. His slayer.
He hated seeing her cry.
He hated knowing he was the reason.
“Is this good?” she asked gently, her shaking hands pampering his brow. “Not too warm?”
“It’s perfect, love.”
“I’ll get you some more blood.”
William shook his head weakly and grasped her wrist, holding her soundly beside him. She’d been pouring blood down his throat ever since they’d stopped at the inn. Whatever blood she could get her hands on. Mainly animals’, but there had been a few mouthfuls which tasted suspiciously human. He was certain she hadn’t harmed anyone; his girl didn’t have it in her.
And he didn’t have it in him to tell her that no amount of blood would help him. He couldn’t.
“Don’t go,” William murmured. “Stay with me.”
Elizabeth’s eyes glistened with tears and he felt his heart rip again. “I was going to ask you the same thing,” she whispered, pressing a tear-drenched kiss against his lips. “Oh Will…”
“’m…not…going anywhere.”
“I’m so sorry. Will, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for everything.” She shook her head hard, large liquid crystals sketching rivers down her gorgeous cheeks. “I was such a fool. God, I was so blind.”
“Hush, sweetheart.”
“I thought…I don’t even know what I thought.” Elizabeth shuddered and kissed his mouth again. Even soaked in tears, she tasted wonderful. “I wanted to…I wanted to…”
William squeezed her hand tenderly. “You…you wanted…to cut…ties.”
She nodded without thinking.
“’S…what I…I wanted, too.”
“But I didn’t need to
go there!” she protested. “God, why did I go there?”
His smile grew wider. Perhaps he was a sentimental, lovesick fool. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking clearly. Perhaps a thousand and a half things. But even as he lay there dying, he knew there was nowhere else he’d rather be.
William had long heard that people who knew they were about to die grew peaceful in the last throes. It was something he hadn’t believed, and definitely something he’d never thought could be applied to vampires. But resting under Elizabeth’s tear-filled eyes, her love for him brimming so brightly the stars would bow out in shame, not even the imminence of death could make him regret a lick of what he’d experienced.
“You…went there…” he murmured tenderly, raising her hand to his mouth so he could feel her skin against his lips. “…because you…have faith…”
She shook her head. “My faith got you killed.”
“The bloody arrow’s…what got me…killed, love,” William retorted. “You didn’t shoot me…did you?”
Elizabeth choked a sob, her eyes turning downward.
“Don’…take on…blame for what…others have done.”
“If I hadn’t gone there—”
“It would’ve…happened…eventually. Your watcher…he really wanted…me dead.” The smile melted off his face. “You…you warned me, love. You…you warned me every…bloody day…”
“I brought him to us!”
William shook his head—or rather tried. His body didn’t want to move; it was hard enough doing the little things. Like smile at her. Kiss her hand. Speak. All these things he was determined to do because they were the moments which would follow him into Hell. And if his eternal torment for being the thing he was waited at the end of the road, he wanted memories of soft, healing light to counteract the harshness of flames.
He wasn’t going to sit passively during his last minutes with the only woman he’d ever loved. He wasn’t going to let her watch him die without knowing how important she was to him. How he only existed for her—that he could live this life a thousand times but would never be satisfied if Fate denied him her kiss.
These last few months with her had been the only ones wherein he’d actually lived. Everything else had been a stagnant walk through time. He’d
felt so much. Felt a world beyond cold. Beyond the starving pangs of demonhood and the curse of his eternal condition. He’d felt. He’d loved.
These last few months meant more to him than anything else in this world could hope to mean.
These months were spent with Elizabeth, who had breathed life into him. Who had saved him from himself.
No, there was no regret here. Only the sorrow of parting.
The ache looming in his gut at the thought of her grief and what she would have to face when it was over.
Alone. No watcher. No father. No William.
He wanted to believe in the Christian tradition that some part of him would be able to remain with her—watch over her. Soothe her when she wept and hold her when she couldn’t sleep. Whisper that all would eventually be all right, and though he might not be there to touch her, he would make sure she felt him always. He wanted to believe demons had that luxury, but William could not fool himself.
And though there was nothing to regret in the choices he’d made for himself, there was a world of remorse for what he’d done to her. He’d been a cruel bastard, demanding so much of her. Demanding
her at all. Taking her from the world she knew and introducing her to this only to rip the shade of happiness away from her. Not only that, their blood was forever linked. And she would feel the pain of his death every day. Every day she breathed, she would feel this.
William had done this to her. Selfishly and without hesitation, all because he’d wanted her forever.
He had forever now. This was his forever.
It was the unspoken reason mating never took place. Why claims were so bloody unheard of.
To lose one’s mate was figurative death of the soul.
To lose one’s mate was to lose oneself.
Were it the other way around, William knew the Hell he was about to face would quiver at the whisper of what he’d put himself through at the gut-wrenching agony of losing his beloved.
A hell he’d condemned her to for the rest of her days.
“Have I told…told you…I love you today?” he murmured, brushing a soft kiss against her hand again.
An anguished sob tore from her lips. “Will…”
“I do, sweetheart. I…I love… love you so much.”
“I love you, too,” she whispered, her voice cracked with tears. “I love you, Will.”
“That’s…all I…all I need.”
She shook her head, bathing him in falling tears. “Let me get you more blood,” she said, moving to rise to her feet. “I can’t do nothing. Please…aren’t you—”
“Blood won’…help, darling. I jus’…need you.” William forced his weakened grip to tighten around her hand. “Stay here. I…don’t want to…to miss…”
“I can’t do nothing,” she repeated.
“You’re here. All…I…all I need.”
Elizabeth inhaled but obeyed, her legs settling on the ground beside him again. “There must be something. Would my blood—”
“No.” She blinked. “Will…”
William’s head gently rocked back and forth. Were his heart in a position to beat, he was certain she would have been deafened with its thundering. She couldn’t get that thought in her head. She
couldn’t. His life wasn’t worth the sacrifice of hers. She was pure and innocent—he was a damned creature who had evaded death far too long, already. If she tried to give him her blood, he wouldn’t be able to resist. He wouldn’t have the strength to resist.
He was dying. The demon was slowly withering away. It yearned for strength, and there was nothing stronger than the blood of a slayer.
Should he get a taste, he would be completely lost. Perhaps the claim would ensure her safety, but there was no way he was risking the world on a gamble. He couldn’t live with himself if his selfishness got her killed. Not in this life and not in the next. The torments of Hell scared him not; the idea of losing his Buffy and spending an eternity knowing he was the cause would break him the way no poison ever could.
There was no proof Slayer blood held the Killer of the Dead’s cure. He’d never seen a slayer before he met Elizabeth, thus all he knew about the Killer of the Dead came by word of mouth. All he knew was engrained in myth.
He wouldn’t let Elizabeth sacrifice herself.
He wasn’t worth it.
“Blood…doesn’…help.”
“Perhaps mine would,” she argued, her brow furrowing.
William’s head rocked again. “No.”
It was good to see frustration splash across her pale, grief-stricken face. Good to see something other than the formation of tears. He wanted to remember her exactly as she was; a sizzling spitfire of a girl whose temper gave her strength. Whose beauty thrived on the passion she inspired simply by breathing.
“Dammit, Will!” she cried, her eyes bursting with life. “What do you want me to do?”
“Jus’…love me.”
“I
do. I love you so much, and you’re
asking me to let you die!” She shook her head hard, her anger dissolving quickly into sobs. “You…you’re asking me…to do
nothing. To just sit here.”
“There’s nothing…that…can be done,” he replied softly. “I jus’…need you with…me.”
Her free hand immediately took to caressing his hair, making his burning skin tingle with the promise of her touch. It had been so terribly long since any ill had afflicted him—the one fever he’d caught as a child had nearly scared his mother to death, she’d feared losing another one of her children to illness. He’d overcome it, though. He’d promised her he would.
What an oddly timed memory, all for the fact that he was sure he’d never felt so wretchedly warm in all his life.
“I’m here. I’m here,” Elizabeth whispered, her hand still brushing hair from his brow. “I’m right here, Will.”
He grinned again. He couldn’t help himself. The anger was gone from her voice, replaced instead with longing he knew well. God, if only he’d known their last time together was truly their last. He would have made it special. Made it as revolutionary as that first night had been. If Fate was truly something which could not be altered, and dying was simply the path he had to take no matter what he did differently, he would have taken advantage of every second they had.
He felt he’d taken her for granted. No matter how much he loved her, there was always something more he could’ve done. Something that went a little bit further. Something that explored the extra mile.
God, he hated watching her cry.
“Love…you,” William whispered again. “So…much.”
“I love you, too,” she replied, her face a wet mess. She was silent for a long minute, her right hand wrapped in his, her other stroking his brow with tenderness that would make angels weep. The quiet didn’t last; the air rattled on another hard sob, and she lurched forward, her eyes finding the floor. “You can’t do this,” she insisted. “You can’t leave me here. God Will, you
can’t leave me here.”
The heartbreak in her voice tore him apart. “’m so…sorry, love.”
“You
can’t.” “I should’ve been…more careful.” His thumb slid across her hand. “Don’t cry…sweet girl. Don’t cry.”
“You can’t leave me. I can’t do this alone.” Elizabeth shook her head, squeezing his hand tight enough to will life into his body, should she possess the power. “I can’t do this alone.”
“You’re not alone…Buffy.”
The words constituted an empty promise. He wanted badly to tell her he wasn’t going anywhere, that the death of his body couldn’t prevent him from lingering. From remaining with her for all time. He wanted to tell her it would be better. He wanted to tell her a thousand things; things he knew he should tell her and things his mouth refused to speak. He was certain he was supposed to say she would love again, but even now he was too bloody selfish to give the thought merit.
It was a failing, but hardly his worst.
“Tell me…” William implored softly, his thoughts desperate to stray from these troublesome things. “Tell me…you don’ regret it.”
Her reply was immediate. She didn’t ask for clarification; clarification wasn’t required. “I don’t regret it.”
“Me…either.” He tried to raise her hand to his mouth again, but found he lacked the strength. He settled for favoring her with another soft squeeze. “For my life…to come…I regret nothing.”
Elizabeth’s body wracked with a hard sob. “Will, please…”
“I love you.”
The words were a mantra in his head, one which he was determined to grant life with his dying breath. It was important she hear it—over and over again if necessary. As many times as it took to get her to understand how much he meant it. He meant every word.
“Please, God,” Elizabeth whispered, not looking at him, trembling. “Do not take him…”
God doesn’t take mercy on creatures like me, love. He thought for a second the words had actually escaped his lips. The world around him was growing fuzzy. Shapes were blurring, colors blending without prejudice, and sound began to drone in the long echoes of unintelligible melodies. He felt Elizabeth resting her precious head against his chest, her small body rocking with sobs, her hand holding onto his so tightly he wondered if she meant to keep the glove of Hell from grasping him, even if it meant she had to fight it herself.
“Please…do not leave me alone…”
William blinked hard, wetness stinging his eyes. He didn’t know if they were her tears or his own.
It didn’t matter, he supposed. Her tears
were his, and his were hers.
There was nothing they kept from each other.
“Bu…”
Thy drugs are quick. Elizabeth jerked upward, her tear-stained lips finding his. “I love you, Will,” she whispered. “I love you.”
He hoped he could convey the words in a smile. He had not said them enough.
As it was, his voice had abandoned him.
Thus with a kiss…I die. Her eyes were the last thing he saw. He watched her, trying hard to convey everything which remained unsaid. He watched her as his feet dissolved, followed by his legs, his torso and hands. As pieces of him were fragmented away into nothing but dust. But even as he crumbled, he couldn’t look away.
Instead, his eyes kept on hers. Watched the color of horror and sorrow sweep across her gorgeous face. Watched her, wanting desperately to reassure her of something.
Anything…
He tried to speak before his mouth faded into dust, but his voice wouldn’t come. And even as the world fell to shadows, he could still see emerald crystals; he supposed they would follow him forever.
Elizabeth lit his way through darkness even now.
She always had.