Summary: Set directly after the events of Same Time, Same Place. Buffy realizes that she's probably left Spike in the basement for too long and hauls him out. Her attempts to get the First to stop tormenting him don't go quite as planned, however. Then again, when do spells on the Hellmouth ever work right?
Author's Notes: I may be a minority, but I thought the First was about the lamest villain ever. How do you fight something like that? It's impossible. And besides, it's philosophically and logically insupportable that you'd have the First Evil and not a First Good of some kind. I'd give you the logical argument, but that's not the point. The point is that I'm treating the First as the S3 episode Amends treated the First—like some ghost that could be chased away by some fast talk and the light of day. I'm ignoring the rest of S7 canon pretty much. Oh, and the title is taken from a Christina Rossetti poem I thought was appropriate.
Rating: PG-13
"As rivers seek the sea,/Much more deep than they,/So my soul seeks thee/Far away;/As running rivers moan,/On their course alone,/So I moan/Left alone./As the delicate rose/To the sun's sweet strength/Doth herself unclose,/Breadth and length;/So spreads my heart to thee/Unveiled utterly,/I to thee/Utterly...Its goal the river knows,/Dewdrops find a way,/Sunlight cheers the rose/In her day:/Shall I, lone sorrow past,/Find thee at the last?/Sorrow past,/Thee at last?" ~Christina Rossetti, "Confluents"
The odd thing was that Buffy had never previously planned to spend time with Spike. They had patrolled together, and they had sat on the back porch—sometimes talking idly, sometimes in silence. They had watched a movie together once, but that was mostly either by accident or driven by catastrophe.
Of course, they'd had other things on their minds last year, and had engaged in other activities that she was reticent to mention to William.
So trying to figure out what they were going to do all day was a lot more difficult than it should have been.
They drank their coffee, and Buffy forced William to drink his blood. Afterwards there was an uncomfortable silence while they looked at each other, trying to decide what they were going to do.
"We could watch a movie," Buffy suggested. "I've still got my mom's old videos. She was a big fan of the black and white movies."
William tilted his head in a gesture Buffy well remembered. "What is the difference?"
"Well, the black and white movies are probably more up your alley than the newer ones," Buffy said with a smile. "If you don't want to be shocked."
"I think I'm beyond shock at this point," William said quietly. "I don't—I should be—acting differently."
She wasn't sure what he meant, but Buffy wondered if it didn't have to do with the fact that Spike wasn't really gone. The soul was definitely in the driver's seat, but maybe that part of him that was Spike wasn't so far away. "You're doing the best you can."
"Perhaps," he said doubtfully. "Would you be honest with me, Buffy?"
Buffy flinched. She had no idea what he was going to ask, but there were certain questions that she had no desire to answer truthfully. "I can try."
"Will you tell me what we fought over?"
Buffy swallowed. "You mean, tell you why you left?"
"Yes."
She took a deep breath. "We were—we were together for a while," Buffy admitted quietly. "You had changed. Spike had changed. I was—I was gone for the summer, and Spike stayed with Dawn the whole time, and helped keep the Hellmouth safe."
William wanted to ask where she had gone and what a Hellmouth was, but he was afraid to stop her lest she leave the story incomplete. "When I—came back, Spike was just there. He was the only one I could talk to, and things got—complicated."
"He loved you," William supplied.
Buffy laughed a little at that, bitterly. "He did. I couldn't feel anything, William. Not after what had happened to me. After a while, I broke things off with him. We were okay for a while, and maybe..." She trailed off, taking a deep breath. "We—we fought because Spike had—been with a friend of mine, and I found out. He came to apologize, and I wouldn't admit to having any feelings for him, so we fought."
William caught an emotion behind her words that frightened him. "You were hurt. He attacked you." He left unspoken the fact that Spike was him.
"I don't think he even knew what he was doing," Buffy said quickly, wanting to shield William from as much pain as possible. "Really, William. It wasn't something that was supposed to happen, and it surprised both of us, I think."
"Then what?" he whispered.
She smiled. "Spike left on a quest to get his soul, and when he came back he was crazy. There was something haunting him, so we did the spell—and here you are."
"But I still don't understand why you haven't killed me—or Spike," William objected. "Surely, after what he—I—did—"
"It's not that easy," Buffy replied softly.
"Why?"
"Because I loved him."
It wasn't quite how she had wanted to tell him, and she would have preferred to say the words to Spike, but Buffy thought it might be time. It might take some of the sting out of the story she'd just shared. "Even after what happened?" William asked, sounding incredulous, as well he might.
"Even after that," Buffy replied. She touched his cheek gently. "And you're a part of him, you know."
The meaning behind her words took a moment to sink in, but when it did, William's eyes widened comically. "You're saying—"
"What you think I'm saying." The words were still too hard to say, but they were true nonetheless. Buffy loved Spike. She loved William. It was as simple as that.
William glanced away. "I don't remember," he said mournfully.
"That actually might be a good thing. It gives us a chance to start over," Buffy replied.
"I'm not Spike," William warned. "I'm no warrior, Buffy. I'm just—" He faltered.
She took his hand in hers. "Would you tell me the last thing you do remember?"
"There was a party." He stopped.
Buffy knew that she had to tread very lightly. "What happened at the party, William?"
"Cecily was there. They—they read my—my poetry aloud, and she—she asked if—if it was about her."
Somehow Buffy already knew the ending to the story. It was obvious from the pain in his eyes, the way he wouldn't quite meet her eyes, and the stuttering. "She turned you down, huh?"
"She said I was beneath her."
The words lay stark between them, and Buffy hid a wince, remembering when she'd said the exact same thing to Spike. No wonder he'd been ready to kill her. The remarkable thing was that he'd still helped out against Glory. "She was a bitch, William."
He blinked rapidly, the threatening tears giving way to astonishment. "Wha-what?"
"She was a bitch," Buffy repeated clearly. "Seriously, any guy that would take the time to write a girl poetry is definitely worth keeping."
"It was very bad poetry," William admitted in an attempt to be fair.
Buffy smirked. "I'll bet you agonized over every word."
He would have blushed if it was still possible. "Perhaps."
Her lips met his in the first kiss William had ever experienced. It was unbelievable—more amazing than he'd ever dared to dream. It almost made him want to write poetry again.
Almost.
"If you ever write poetry for me, I promise that I would love it," Buffy said with a smile.
Something in her chest uncoiled, relaxed. For so long, the thing between her and Spike had left her ready to explode. This thing between them now had an innocence she hadn't experienced since before Angel.
It left her feeling as carefree as a child.
"Come on," Buffy said, swiftly changing the subject. "Let's go through some of those old boxes in the basement. I think that's where the old videos are."
~~~~~
They found the boxes with the picture albums first, and William was so obviously entranced with the photographs that Buffy pulled them out and started flipping through the pages with him. He wanted to know everything about each photo, and Buffy found herself laughing with him over some of the earlier snapshots.
"You have so many," he marveled after she had pulled out the second album.
Buffy laughed. "This is nothing," she assured him. "There's at least one more box full of albums, and I know we have slides around here somewhere. I won't subject you to them, though."
William shook his head. "Slides?"
She frowned, trying to figure out how to explain. "They're a different kind of picture," Buffy finally said. "It's hard to explain."
"Alright," he said, bending his head to peer at the picture of her and Dawn together. The first album they'd gone through had contained pictures of her as a baby. It wasn't until they'd started in on the second that any pictures of Dawn had shown up. In a certain sense, Buffy had to admire the monks. They had been very thorough, even up to concocting pictures of Dawn from infancy onwards.
"Didn't you have any pictures of yourself?" Buffy asked, curious.
William glanced up at her, blue eyes open and vulnerable. In moments like that, Buffy could actually see his soul—see right down to the core of him. Spike had been able to hide from her to a certain extent. He'd rarely been so open, anyway.
And yet, when she had seen Spike—really seen him—it had hurt, mostly because it showed her the truth of her actions towards him.
After a moment's thought, he nodded. "Yes. Mother and I sat for our photographs twice, but that was all. We never had so many pictures."
Buffy grinned at him. "Wait one minute," she ordered, jumping up to fish through a different box. "I knew it was in here somewhere." Pulling out a Polaroid camera, Buffy checked to see if there was any extra film in the box. Her mom had occasionally preferred the instant pictures, and so she usually kept film on hand just in case. Sure enough, there was more film, and Buffy quickly loaded it. "Smile."
William didn't smile. Instead, he tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, and she pressed the button. When the blank picture came out, she handed it to him. "What—"
"Just wait a minute," she advised.
William frowned but didn't say anything else, waiting obediently. His eyes went wide in delight as the picture began to emerge. "It's magic!" he exclaimed.
"Nope," Buffy replied. "Just technology. They're not usually great pictures, but polaroids are fun, and there's no waiting. Dawn keeps saying that we should get a digital camera, but—" She stopped, seeing the bewildered expression on his face. "Never mind. Anyway, that's what you look like."
William looked back down. The picture had developed fully, and he squinted at it. The first thing he noticed was his hair; the second was the scar through his eyebrow. He touched his hair self-consciously. "Does it really look like that?"
"Yeah, it does," Buffy replied. "It looks good though."
He stared at the picture for a few minutes longer and then handed it back to Buffy. "Thank you."
She wasn't quite sure what to make of his tone. "Are you okay?"
"Of course," William said quickly. "I'm quite well."
Buffy reached over, tilting his chin until he met her eyes. "You're not okay."
"I don't recognize myself."
Her thumb stroked his cheek. "But I recognize you."
William swallowed hard. She saw him.
It made his chest ache.
~~~~~
When Dawn came home, she wasn't quite sure what to expect. She was fairly certain that Buffy wouldn't kill William, but she wouldn't have been surprised to find that they'd retreated to opposite corners of the house.
Instead, Buffy was sitting on the couch right next to him, her head resting on his shoulder, obviously asleep. William was focused on the television, again watching some old black and white movie, and Dawn recognized Jimmy Stewart. After a few moments, she realized it was The Philadelphia Story , which had been one of her mom's favorites. Apparently, Buffy had dug out the old movies for him.
"Hey," she said quietly.
William glanced up at her with a welcoming smile. "Hello, Dawn. How was your day?"
"Good." Dawn sat down in the rocking chair. "How was yours?"
"It was..." William frowned, trying to find the right adjective. "Splendid."
The girl grinned widely at him. "That's great." She watched as William carefully extricated himself from under Buffy, trying not to wake her. "What did you guys do all day?"
He hesitated. "We talked."
Dawn was almost disappointed. "That's it?"
"We looked at photographs too," he offered.
Her eyes got huge. "You looked at pictures? Oh, God. She didn't show you any of the old ones of me, did she?"
"Of course," William replied, and Dawn missed the mischievous gleam in his eye. "There were quite a few pictures of you. I think my favorite was the picture of you being bathed."
Dawn flushed a deep red, knowing exactly which photograph he was talking about. She also knew of the existence of a few more that she desperately hoped never saw the light of day. William took pity on her. "They were lovely photographs, Dawn, but I do not plan on sharing them with anyone else. I hope you know that you can trust me with such things."
"Of course I trust you," Dawn said without thinking. "You're family." She saw the look on his face and frowned. "What?"
"Your sister informed me why I—Spike—left."
"Oh." Dawn honestly hadn't believed that Buffy would tell William anything. Just the fact that the Slayer was actually talking instead of taking action told her Buffy was serious about this whole thing. Getting Buffy to talk about issues involving anything emotional was akin to pinning down water. "Are you okay?"
"I suppose." William got a far-off look in his eyes. "It is—it is difficult to believe, especially since I do not remember any of it. I cannot imagine ever doing—that."
"That's why you got your soul, though," Dawn said. "Or why Spike got his soul anyway."
"Are we not the same man?" William asked with an arched brow. "We certainly inhabit the same body. I look at Buffy, and I—" He stopped there. She had been kind to him, had said that she loved him, but he didn't trust it. William was afraid that it was a fluke, a dream, that she was truly in love with Spike.
If he never was Spike again, would that change her feelings for him?
"Yes and no." Dawn searched for the words, trying to explain it. "You're a lot alike," she finally said. "More alike than different, I guess."
"Then I am capable of perpetrating horrors." His tone was flat, but his eyes reflected anguish.
Dawn shook her head. "No, I don't think so. I mean, maybe, but William, all of us do really bad things. Last year—" Last year had been horrible for all of them. "Last year was really bad. I don't think you can judge yourself based on a bad year."
"What about all the years before that when I was a vampire?" he asked.
Dawn hesitated, and then spoke decidedly. "That's when you were different. That was before you knew us."
The phone rang just then, and Dawn hurried to answer it. "Hey, Willow , what's up?...She's sleeping, but—"
Buffy came into the kitchen. "Who is it, Dawn?"
"It's Willow . She sounds worried."
Buffy took the phone from her sister, frowning. "Hey, Willow, what's—A spider?...A spider demon? Where?" She motioned frantically to Dawn, but William moved first, handing her a pen and pad of paper. The Slayer threw him a grateful smile and went back to her conversation. "Okay, go...No, don't worry about it. I'll just give Xander a call...Absolutely...It ripped out the heart?!...Sure, later...Bye."
Buffy hung up the phone, turning to see William and Dawn wearing identical expressions of intense curiosity. "What was that about?" Dawn asked.
"Some spider demon's loose on campus," she replied. " Willow needs me to stop it while she checks on some other stuff, mostly who was behind said demon." Buffy sighed. "Darn. I was hoping to hit the mall today."
"Mall?" Dawn asked, perking up.
Buffy rolled her eyes. "For William. He needs more clothes."
"Really, Buffy, I'm sure—"
"And don't say you're fine," Buffy interrupted. "You don't have much, and what you have doesn't really suit you now."
William couldn't argue with that. "If you're certain."
"Of course I'm certain," Buffy said, her resolve face firmly in place. "I've done this before. I kill the demon, and then we go to the mall. It should be a piece of cake, barring world-endage."
Things were never that easy.
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