Parallel Lives by Mabel Marsters

1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 :: 7 :: 8 :: 9 :: 10 :: 11 :: 12 :: 13 :: 14 :: 15 :: 16 :: 17 :: 18 :: 19 :: 20 :: 21 :: 22 :: 23 :: 24 :: 25 :: 26 :: 27 :: 28 :: 29 :: 30 :: 31 :: 32 :: 33 :: 34 :: 35 :: 36 :: 37 :: 38 ::

Chapter 2: The Thing Is...

Author's Notes: Thanks to my betas the great Carol and my good friend dawnofme who I lean on a lot and certainly derserves credit for it. I couldn't do it without you guys! *hugs*

Spike could remember the day he had told Rupert like it was yesterday and not over nine years ago. He let his mind wander…

“The thing is, Rupert. I’m really William.”

The words seemed to hang in the air for an age before Rupert moved, let alone spoke. His first reaction typically was to remove his spectacles and start to clean them vigorously. Spike gripped Buffy’s hand so tightly that she had to put her other hand on his wrist to make him let go.

“Good Lord,” said Rupert eventually, sitting down in a somewhat stunned manner. “Oh dear,” he added as he popped one of the lenses out of the frame.

Spike was frozen to the spot, his mouth so dry that he would have been unable to speak even if he knew what to say. He glanced at Buffy and was reassured by her smile. He knew that he could get through anything with her by his side.

Rupert finally managed to get the lens back into place and put his glasses onto the bridge of his nose.

“Well, that is…er…” His words trailed off. He looked up at Spike; the poor boy looked terrified. He smiled at him.

“I’m sorry, Rupert,” Spike blurted out. “Look, I’ll just move out, okay? I can get a job. I won’t bother you again.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Rupert sharply. “Why on earth would you need to move out?”

Spike took a small step back. “Um…well…wot with all the lying and all,” he said weakly. “I did promise you that I wouldn’t cause you any more trouble and here I am with loads more for you.”

“I think we need to go home, sit down and have a proper talk about it,” said Rupert calmly, although his mind was racing with all of the implications this revelation brought.

“Um, okay,” replied Spike.

“Buffy, can we give you a ride home?”

“That would be great. Thank you, Mr. Giles.”

The three of them walked to Rupert’s beat up old grey Citroen. After dropping Buffy off, Spike and Rupert arrived at the apartment in silence. They hadn’t spoken in the car, and Spike was feeling very nervous about the conversation to come.

“Sit down, Spike. I’ll make us some tea.”

Rupert went into the kitchen and switched on the kettle. He would rather have had a stiff brandy but didn’t want to be seen using liquor as a crutch in front of the boy. It wouldn’t be right, given his previous trouble with drink. When it was ready , he carried the two mugs and sat opposite Spike at the dining table. Spike didn’t meet his eye as he pushed the steaming mug over to him.

“So how long have you known that you are William?” he asked gently. Deciding that starting at the beginning was as good a place as any.

Eyes still downcast, Spike replied, “Ever since I got my memory back.” It was barely audible.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Rupert incredulously. He continued before Spike could respond, “It was because I told you that we were coming here and about the memorial service, isn’t it?”

Spike nodded. He glanced up at his uncle, as always surprised at the kindness he saw in Rupert’s eyes despite the trouble that he invariably seemed to cause him.

“I know it sounds so stupid now, but when I was in England I felt …I dunno…like a normal person, I suppose. I wasn’t picked on, and I didn’t have to worry about what I said or did. I just couldn’t face going back to being like that again and no way would Angel have left me alone if he’d known that I’d lived after being declared dead.” He pulled a face and added earnestly, “God, it sounds so bleeding lame. I didn’t do it to get James’ inheritance or cheat you out of anything. I was going to tell you when I graduated, so I could move away from Sunnydale and leave all that behind and…”

“Spike.” Rupert interrupted him.

He fell silent and looked down at his untouched tea. Like Rupert earlier, he craved alcohol.

“Just calm down a little. Everything will be all right. I know that you never meant to cheat me, for goodness sake. No wonder you found things so hard when you came back. I just wish you could have confided in me sooner rather than going through it alone. We’ll get this all sorted out.”

Spike mumbled something Rupert couldn’t hear.

“What was that?” he coaxed.

“I let James be cremated as me.” His voice broke as he spoke. “How could I let him have a funeral as me?” Tears started to fall down his cheeks.

“Shh, you’re being too hard on yourself, Spike. The funerals took place well before your memory returned. It’s something we have to rectify but it definitely wasn’t your fault.”

Spike stood up abruptly, unable to keep still a moment longer. All of his instincts were screaming at him to run away - it’s what William had always done. Rupert slowly rose from his chair. He could see the conflict and distress his nephew was suffering. He wanted to hug him, to reassure him, understanding now why Spike shied away from physical contact most of the time. Both his father, and mother to a lesser degree, had been violent towards him. Rupert was amazed when Spike walked round the table and tentatively put his arms around him, desperate for comfort. It was the first time Spike had initiated a hug.

“Oh, Spike,” Rupert said softly as the boy clung to him, body wracked with sobs. “I promise you, it will be all right.”

00000000

Rupert hadn’t been lying. He really did sort out the mess surrounding Spike’s identity. The first thing he’d done was contact the firm of solicitors in London who were handling the trust fund set up for Spike and overseeing the rental of the Norman family home. They had been amazing and in less time than Rupert had thought possible it was all sorted out legally and ready for them to sign. He arranged with Principal Snyder for him and Spike to have a week off from school so they could fly to London to do the finalities.

The legal team had all decided that the easiest thing for Spike would be for him to legally adopt the surname Norman. He had no regrets at losing the name Pratt - he didn’t want to bear the name of his abusive father. To the amusement of the solicitors, Spike had insisted that his first name be changed to Spike. So once everything had been signed, William Pratt, who had become James ‘Spike’ Norman, had evolved further to simply Spike Norman.

Rupert shuddered to think of how the name would appear on college applications but it was something he was happy to concede, as Spike had been stronger than Rupert had thought he could possibly be, through the endless hours with the solicitors.

Whilst they were in London, Rupert and Spike had a private service for the memory of James, and his ashes were re-interred under his own name. The only other person in attendance was Rich Bayliss, James’ best friend and now a true friend to Spike. He’d proven to be a Godsend during the week. He’d been to the house each evening, cheering Spike up after the arduous time he had in the day.

Although Spike had found the whole process extremely overwhelming, he realised that, for the first time since he’d regained his memory after the crash, he felt safe. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders. This time it wasn’t with dread that he stepped off the plane in California but with anticipation. Now he could really start to live his life properly.

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