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
"...I feel no spring, while spring is well nigh blown,/I find no nest, while nests are in the grove:/Woe's me for mine own heart that dwells alone,/My heart that breaketh for a little love./While golden in the sun/Rivulets rise and run,/While lilies bud, for springtide has begun./All love, are loved, save only I; their hearts/Beat warm with love and joy,/beat full thereof..." ~Christina Rossetti, L. E. L.
William felt warm for the first time since he'd found himself in this place. Buffy lay draped over him, sated and spent, a smug little smile on her lips. He found it impossible to presume, however. Even though she appeared to be satisfied with the state of things, it was impossible to tell.
It seemed too soon to hope.
"Watcha thinking?" Buffy asked lazily, unwilling to move. William was a fast learner, and eager to please. His hands had seemed to remember what brought the best response of their own accord.
"I am thinking how very beautiful you are, my love," he replied quietly, not knowing what else to say.
She gave a happy little sigh. "That's a nice thought."
"It is."
The silence that fell was not entirely comfortable, and the Slayer pushed herself up in order to see his eyes. William could hide nothing when she met his eyes.
"Why are you scared?" she asked, immediately recognizing the emotion for what it was.
William couldn't find it in himself to lie to her. "Because I am waiting for you to realize that you've made a mistake."
She shook her head. "I didn't, William. What is this?"
"I know that I'm—I'm spineless, and that Spike—"
Buffy put her fingers to his lips. "Whoah. Stop right there. Who told you that?"
"You did."
The words were simple and stark, and the way he said them told Buffy that William had believed her with his whole heart. She frowned, frantically going over the past few days in her mind. She had said nothing of the sort, and she didn't remember saying that before either. Not even right after they'd first done the spell.
"When?" she asked.
William frowned, seeing the confusion on her face. "Just the other day," he replied. "You—"
He stopped, coming to the same conclusion she had, at very nearly the same moment. "No," Buffy said flatly. "I didn't. I can't even believe that you would think—"
"I didn't realize!" William protested. "We had just—and I was—"
He stopped, and Buffy took a deep breath. It wasn't fair to blame him. William had come a long way in the last months, but it was unfair to expect that he would recognize the First every time it appeared, especially when it looked like her.
Especially when he was vulnerable.
"Don't worry about it," Buffy said finally. "It's not your fault. I should have known something was wrong, and I forgot how much the First likes Christmas."
"I beg your pardon?"
Buffy really didn't want to go there. "It's not important," she replied. "It's just that the last time the First showed up, it completely ruined Christmas Eve."
"I am sorry, Buffy," William said.
She stroked his cheek. "Don't be. It's not your fault."
The insecurity in his eyes was heartbreaking. "Was it—was I—"
"You were perfect, William." Buffy spoke with perfect sincerity. "Really."
His blue eyes searched her face, still unsure. "I love you," William said, hoping that those words would make up for any disappointments she might be hiding from him.
"And I love you," Buffy replied, laying her head on his chest. She couldn't stop the feeling of dread, though. The First wasn't done with them yet, and she thought it might be time to get busy finding out how to stop it for good.
~~~~~
Willow shook her head emphatically. "No. Oh, no, Buffy. Really, I couldn't."
"Please, Willow," Buffy asked again. "I don't know how else to find it. I've been all over town."
The witch's red hair was still swinging. "I can't," she repeated helplessly. "I'm really sorry, Buffy, but the last time I tried to do a spell where the First was involved..." She trailed off, glancing over at William apologetically. "We don't know what kind of affect it would have. It could make things worse."
William's lips twisted into a wry smile. "Things could hardly get worse."
"Stop that," Willow replied. "You know I didn't mean it that way."
He shook his head, although neither woman was certain if it was to agree or dispute Willow 's statement. William's friendship with the witch had become even more solid over the last few months, and he would often unbend enough to engage in a spirited argument over some point in a book or movie with which they were both familiar.
Buffy often found that she was slightly envious of their relationship, since there was nothing unresolved hanging over them. There was nothing unspoken there, not like there was between her and William.
Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that there was a lot left unsaid between her and Spike.
"You're right, Wills," Buffy responded. "I don't want anyone getting hurt. I guess we're just going to have to keep up the sweeps and hope for the best."
William glanced over at her. "Should I accompany you?" he asked. "Perhaps I would be able to sense something as this thing seems particularly interested in me."
It was a tempting offer. If William was right, he might be able to find the First where their previous attempts had failed. Buffy also didn't want to risk him. "Not tonight," she decided. "I'll take Xander along with me. After that, though, it'll definitely be worth a shot."
He nodded unhappily, clearly not satisfied with the Slayer's decision. "If you think it best."
"I do," Buffy replied, wishing for the hundredth time that she could take Spike along with her. "I'm going to call Xander. Willow , you'll stay with him?"
Willow nodded, recognizing Buffy's resolve face. "Are you okay?" she asked William.
"Of course," he replied testily. "I dislike it when she speaks about me as though I am not here, however."
Willow winced. "I know, William. She's just worried about you is all."
"She worries too much," William replied, his eyes distant. "I don't understand, Willow. What does this thing want with me? I am not so important."
She sighed. "I don't know, William. It might be partly because you're with Buffy, and she's the Slayer. Maybe it's because vampires are supposed to be evil and you're not. It came after Angel too."
This was not the first time that anyone had mentioned Angel, and Buffy had mentioned that the First had come after her or someone she cared for in the past around Christmas. Willow 's frank words allowed him to put two and two together.
"Angel was Buffy's—" William frowned, trying to come up with the word that would fit. There was enough of a disconnect in the language that he often wasn't sure what the correct term might be.
Willow shrugged. "I guess you'd say Angel was Buffy's boyfriend, but it was a lot more complicated than that." She smiled at him. "It's always more complicated."
"So I've seen," William said, his tone dry.
"Do you mind if I work on a paper?" she asked. "Finals are coming up, and I need to get some of this done if I don't want to resort to magic for it."
William nodded. "Of course. Your studies are important."
"Yell if you need anything," she called, going up the stairs.
He heard her bedroom door close a few seconds later, and then heard the front door close. Buffy had departed without saying goodbye apparently. William ran a weary hand through his hair. It was longer than it had been, as he hadn't allowed Buffy to cut it. William had wanted something familiar.
There were still moments when he resented this world that he found himself in and the people who had brought him there. As the confusion had gradually lifted, the anger had grown. Although William knew that over a hundred years had passed, and that he'd experienced all of it, it felt more like he'd been rather rudely picked up and transplanted among strangers.
There were moments when he almost hated Buffy for what she'd done to him, and when he hated her more for loving Spike. It wasn't fair, and so he kept those feelings to himself, but they were still there. Some of his anger had bubbled up the other day, and it had led to the argument, which in turn led to their love-making.
While some of his fear and resentment had been laid to rest, not all of it had. William sometimes wondered if he would ever truly be happy again.
If he'd ever been happy, that is.
"It's never that easy you know. She won't find it."
William knew the voice coming from behind him, and he stiffened in fear and distress. "You're not real," he said, trying to sound firm, but there was a tremble in his voice.
"Look and see."
He turned, and it was no less of a shock to see her standing there, looking no older than she had the day she died. "Don't I look real?"
"You're dead," William insisted.
His mother smiled at him. "You killed me," she corrected him. "Have you considered that, William? Have you thought about how very many people you have murdered?"
William shook his head, shutting his eyes to block out her face. "You're the First," he insisted desperately. "You're trying to trick me."
"I'm trying to show you the truth," the thing that was not his mother replied. "No one else will. They all want to protect you." Her smile shifted into something a little more cruel . "You always were a delicate boy."
"Go away!" William didn't want to look at her. He wanted his mother badly, but he wanted her as she had been
Her voice was gentle. "It's time you embrace what you are."
"I know what I am," William replied, still refusing to look at her. "I'm—"
"A monster? A murderer?"
Her words forced him to look at her, and William saw what he had made of her for the first time. The golden eyes that met his were those of a demon, not the pious woman who had raised him. "I am—" William began weakly, breaking it off.
"You killed your own mother," she said. And then she wasn't there anymore, and he recognized George Byers, although his handsome face was marred by the railroad spike that pierced his skull. "And me. Don't forget me, William. You killed me because I spoke the truth."
William shook his head, a spark coming back into his eyes. "You were cruel."
"You were always too sensitive."
"You were a lout," William shot back. "And you were a bully. Perhaps it was wrong to kill you, but I can't be sorry I did."
Sensing that it might have made a mistake, the First quickly shifted into the figure of a young woman William didn't recognize. "Are you sorry you killed me?" she asked in a thick Cockney accent.
"Or me?"
"Or me?"
The First changed forms again and again, too fast for William to really comprehend anything except the fact that he had killed them all. Old men and women, babies and children, young men and women in the prime of their lives.
They had all died by his hand.
William might have given up at that moment. He might have decided that the First was correct—he was a monster deserving of death. He might have gone out to meet the sunrise, even though the thought of burning up was terrifying.
There were two things that saved him, however. The first was the memory of the night before with Buffy. He might be selfish, but he didn't want to give that up.
The second thing was the bright, blazing anger that rose up in his chest, threatening to choke him. William had been pushed around one too many times. He had taken ridicule and jibes without counterattack. He had accepted strange people and their strange customs without argument.
William had, in short, accepted his role as a pawn in the grand scheme of things, and now he was tired of it.
He'd finally had enough.
"Hey, William," Dawn said, coming through the door. "Is everything okay?"
When he turned to look at her, the girl was positive that Spike had somehow returned. "Spike?"
"Tell your sister I had to leave," he said in William's precise speech patterens.
Dawn moved in front of him. "Where are you going?"
"To end this," William replied brushing past her and heading out the front door. Dawn stared after him in dismay.
"Buffy's going to kill me," she muttered, hesitating for only a moment before dropping her backpack. Dawn paused only to grab a weapon, before setting her jaw and following him out the door. There was no way she was going to let William go by himself, not even if she risked the wrath of the Slayer. He was too important to her these days.
Submit a Review!