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
"A dream there is wherein we are fain to scream,/While struggling with ourselves we cannot speak...When I was young I deemed that sweets are sweet:/But now I dream some searching bitters are/Sweeter than sweets, and more refreshing far,/And to be relished more and more desired,/And more to be pursued on eager feet,/On feet untired, and still on feet though tired." ~Christina Rossetti, from Sonnets of a Later Life
"May I ask a question?" William asked after they had sipped their hot chocolate for a time. Dawn had excused herself to go to bed as they came downstairs, and he couldn't help but wonder at the look he'd seen in her eyes. The young woman appeared to be struggling with some sort of dislike of him, and William greatly desired to know why Dawn would feel that way.
He couldn't imagine ever offering insult to a woman, not unless it was unwanted love poetry. Except for the fact that Dawn was very young, and no matter how much he had changed, William had no doubt that she was upset with him for some very different reason.
Willow looked up nervously. She had the feeling that William's questions could get her into dangerous territory very quickly. "Sure."
"What manner of relationship do I have with—" He faltered slightly, uncomfortable with using Christian names, and yet not knowing surnames for any of the women with whom he found himself sharing a house.
"Buffy?" Willow asked gently, already sensing where William was going. "It's—hard to explain. It would be better if she told you the story."
He shook his head. "Why would she want to help a vampire?" he asked softly. "That was what the spell was for, was it not?"
Willow really didn't want to get into this, not now, not when she had no idea how much Buffy thought he should know. On the other hand, the poor guy was already bewildered enough. Perhaps some vague answers would help him. "It was," she assured him quickly. "You—you help people now," she explained. "There was—this evil ghostie thing that wasn't happy with it, and so we did the spell so it couldn't hurt you."
"I thought vampires—" William broke off with a nervous chuckle. He hadn't even believed in vampires till now, so it was silly to think he'd had any knowledge of them at all. "I'm not evil?"
"Not anymore," the witch replied carefully. "Not for a while now."
"Then I was," William pressed. "Did I—"
He couldn't complete the question, and Willow wasn't sure what to say to him. It was obvious that he wasn't going to like her answer. William would probably be devastated to know what he'd done, but she wasn't sure that she could lie. "You did help Buffy save the world a couple of times," she pointed out, hoping to distract him with the good news.
He frowned. "Save the—" Save the world? William probably would have asked more questions, demanded more answers—mostly along the lines of why Buffy would be involved in something like that with him by her side—but the front door opened and closed again with a crash.
The awkward silence that greeted her was enough to let the Slayer know that she had probably been the topic of conversation. "What's going on?" she asked flatly.
"We were just having some hot chocolate," Willow chirped, trying to dispel the tension. She couldn't help but feel responsible for this mess, since it was her spell.
Buffy's eyes didn't leave William. "What did you tell him, Willow ?"
"Nothing!" she said defensively. "Just that he wasn't evil now and that he's helped you save the world."
Even though she wasn't taking her eyes off him, William hated feeling as though he was being talked around. He didn't like feeling as though he wasn't even in the room. "I asked her what our relationship was."
"We don't have a relationship," Buffy said, carefully keeping her voice devoid of emotion. "We're allies and friends, and that's it."
It was a lie, but Buffy didn't want to get into it. When he opened his mouth to ask yet another question, she cut him off. "I'm a vampire Slayer, William. It's my job to make sure that the people who want to help can. You happened to be one of those people, but that doesn't mean there has to be any more to it."
She was right, of course, even if William was having a very hard time picturing himself saving the world or even fighting. Perhaps as a vampire he was different. That still left one question unanswered. "What is a vampire Slayer?"
~~~~~
William probably should have felt more disbelief. He should have protested that it was impossible and that they were all mad. After the shock of not having a reflection, however, plus discovering that he was a vampire without a heartbeat or the need to breathe—well, he didn't have the energy to feel surprise or anything else.
It was easier to simply sit back, nod, and hope this was all a bad dream that was going to go away in the bright light of morning. In fact, as soon as Buffy finished up her explanation of "one girl in all the world," William politely covered a yawn. "Would you mind terribly if I go to bed?" he faltered slightly, realizing that he had no idea where he was staying.
"Yeah, sure," Buffy replied, as gently as she knew how. "I can bring your stuff down to the basement."
William tried very hard not to look disappointed. His impression of the basement was that it was not an inviting place, but right now he just wanted a place to lay his head. "Thank you."
He followed Buffy down the stairs after bidding Willow good night, realizing that the box she was carrying included all that he owned.
It wasn't a very big box.
Feeling not a little helpless, William watched as she pulled a narrow cot out from the corner, where he hadn't noticed it. "Have you eaten tonight?"
"Willow..." He trailed off, feeling awkward acknowledging that he'd had blood for supper. It hadn't been too bad, actually, as long as he didn't think about what he was drinking. That was yet another item he was too tired to react to.
Buffy nodded. "Good. Look, I've got work tomorrow, and Dawn and Willow are going to be at school, so you're on your own. You can watch TV or whatever, as long as you stay out of our bedrooms."
He was slightly taken aback by her abrupt manners, but simply nodded meekly. William felt as though he was on the verge of a breakdown, and if he was going to give in to tears, he wanted to do so privately.
"Good night," Buffy said, heading back up the stairs and leaving him alone.
William looked around, feeling the edges of despair. He felt more alone now than he ever had before, and that was saying something.
It occurred to him then that he had given no thought to his mother over the last few hours, and guilt assailed him until William realized that there was no way she was still alive. Over a hundred years had passed, and his mother had been dying. What had she thought? Had she known of his fate?
Had he hurt her?
The tears came then, thinking of his mother, long since dust. His one and only ally and confidant was gone, and he was left in this strange time and place with people who didn't seem to care about his existence one way or another.
William curled up on his side on the cot and cried himself to sleep.
~~~~~
When he woke, it was early morning, the sun filtering through the high windows. For a moment, William had no idea where he was or how he'd gotten there. The memories came rushing back in an avalanche of emotion. He briefly considered rolling over and pulling the thin blanket over his head, but that was the coward's way out, and he knew it.
Never mind that he was something of a coward.
Stifling a groan, William decided to find a way to get cleaned up, and—as his stomach growled—get something to eat. He was sunk so deeply in his own misery that he wasn't paying attention to the open blinds in the kitchen.
Not until he found himself on fire, anyway.
Yelping with surprise and panic, William looked around frantically for something to douse the flames with. The matter was taken out of his hands when a hand grabbed his wrist, yanking him over to the sink and turning on the faucet.
He turned startled blue eyes to meet furious green ones. "What the hell were you thinking?" Buffy demanded. She had quickly drawn the blinds when she saw that William was on fire, so he was safe enough from the sun now.
"I—"
"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" she asked. "After all the trouble I've gone through to keep you in one piece? If you were going to commit suicide, the least you could do is go outside where you won't get dust all over the floor."
Speechless in the face of her furious assault, William could say nothing in his own defense, staring instead at the raw skin on his hand. "Dammit!" Buffy muttered. "And I'm late for work."
"I'll take care of it, Buffy," Willow said quietly as she entered the kitchen. "I don't have to be at class for a little while."
"Fine," the Slayer groused. "And remind the Bleached Wonder here that he's not invincible while you're at it, will you?"
Buffy was gone in a moment, and William turned wounded eyes to the redhead. "Are you okay?"
William looked back down at his hand. "I don't think so," he said carefully. The pain was excruciating, and he knew from experience that burns took quite some time to heal.
Willow took his hand in hers gently. "A good thing about being a vampire is that you heal fast," she said.
"That is good news, I suppose," he replied, feeling a bit faint.
Leading him over to the kitchen table, carefully avoiding the direct sunlight, Willow sat him down. "Wait right there. I'm going to get something for your hand."
William didn't believe he could move if he wanted to, but he waited obediently, gritting his teeth against the pain. The young woman returned shortly with supplies, and quickly began spreading ointment over the burns, wrapping his hand in gauze. "How's that?"
"Better, thank you," William replied sincerely. "I don't—why was Buffy so angry?"
Willow winced. "I'm sure she was just worried and in a hurry." Glancing up at the clock, she sighed. "Speaking of which, I've got to run or I'm going to be late. There's blood in the fridge, and you saw where I got the mugs last night. Just put it in the microwave and hit the two button. That should take care of it."
She was off in a moment, leaving him in an empty house that felt strangely intimidating. "Pull yourself together, man," William muttered, talking to himself. "You're not a child."
But he still wanted his mother.
~~~~~
Buffy squashed her guilt as she remembered the stunned and hurt look on William's face when she'd begun yelling at him. "It was his own damn fault," she muttered rebelliously. "Everybody knows that sunlight kills vampires."
Of course, "everybody" really didn't include the vampire himself, who had little experience in the matter. He'd been badly burned, and Buffy bit back a sigh. This situation wasn't making it any easier to figure out how she felt about Spike.
Her feelings for Spike were making it harder for her to deal with William. It was a no-win situation for both of them. William lost out because she was acting like a bitch. Buffy lost out because the person she really wanted was Spike.
"Buffy!" Xander's voice broke into her thoughts, and she looked over at his car that had just pulled up beside her. "You want a ride?"
She climbed into the passenger side, thankful that Xander had shown up when he did. With him driving, she would make it to work with time to spare. "Thanks, Xan."
"Always happy to help," he replied cheerfully. "But why the long face?" His eyes flashed angrily. "Spike isn't giving you any trouble, is he?"
Buffy's head snapped around. "What do you know about Spike?"
" Willow came by the Magic Box yesterday for supplies," he reminded her. "I happened to be there." Xander frowned. "Did you end up doing the spell?"
"Oh, we did the spell all right," Buffy said bitterly. "And it worked."
"That's not a good thing?" Xander asked. "I thought you wanted to make sure this thing couldn't get at him."
Buffy sighed. "I did, but the spell went weird. Spike isn't—Spike any more. He's William."
"He's—" Xander paused to process that statement, and then it hit him. "You mean he's—"
"He thought he was human until we convinced him otherwise," Buffy replied. "And William is definitely not Spike. William is—" Buffy was going to say that William was a wimp, but that wasn't very nice. "Just a regular guy," she finished.
While Xander might not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, he wasn't stupid. There could be only one reason why the Slayer hadn't killed Spike yet, and while he didn't like to think about it, not thinking about it didn't change things.
Buffy felt something for the bleached pest, and Xander finally admitted that there wasn't anything he could do about it. "Is Willow going to reverse the spell?"
Buffy shook her head. "No, I don't think so. She said she thought it would wear off after a while, since it was never supposed to be permanent. Besides, the First isn't tormenting him anymore, and until we find another way to prevent that from happening, I think we'll just have to leave it."
"Meanwhile, you're stuck with William," Xander said wryly.
Buffy sighed. "Pretty much."
~~~~~
William was terribly bored. He had managed to go back to sleep for a couple hours, but upon waking for the second time, he had found himself at loose ends.
Almost by accident, William had discovered how the "TV" in the living room worked. The moving pictures had fascinated him for a time, but he had soon realized that most of the offerings were comprised of violence and vulgarity. While William was trying not to think very hard about anything—including his undead status—the images on the television disturbed him.
He had always tried to surround himself with things of beauty. It wasn't that he was unaware of the ugliness that the world had to offer, but William saw no reason to become saturated with such things. After all, what one put into one's mind was what came out, and he had wanted to create beauty.
Even though he would never write another poem, William still felt the same way.
Unlike his own house, there was no room set aside for a library, and there weren't any books left out in the common areas either. Neither was there a piano that he might have amused himself with playing. If he wanted to find a book to read, he would have to go into the bedrooms, and Buffy had forbidden him from doing so.
There was the option of going through the box of his own things, but that frightened him. What if he ran across something that gave evidence of past crimes? William wanted no confirmation that he had done what vampires were famed for.
Of course, that left him with precisely nothing to do, not unless he wanted to try scribbling down the poetry that was flowing through his head. Which he didn't.
William contented himself with wandering around the lower level of the house, looking at pictures—in color!—and different gewgaws. It was all so very strange, but with this vague sense of familiarity that tickled his memory. It was like a case of déjà vu.
It was disconcerting, was what it was.
The sound of the front door opening startled him out of his thoughts, and William turned to face Dawn as she entered the house. "Hey," she said briefly, heading into the kitchen.
William was used to longer and more elaborate greetings than that, and he followed her. "Hello," he said warily. "How are you this afternoon?"
Dawn looked over at him, startled by his precise diction and diffident manner. It was hard to remember that this wasn't Spike anymore, at least not until she noted the small changes in dress and mannerisms. "I'm fine." She saw the bandage around his hand. "What happened to you?"
"I, uh, got caught in the sunlight," William admitted in a low voice.
Dawn winced in sympathy. "Ouch. You hungry?"
"No, not really," he replied, watching her.
"So what did you do today?"
It was small talk, which she had never really done with Spike before. Spike wasn't big on the small talk, but William seemed to need it since he was standing there, obviously waiting for her to say something. "Not much, I'm afraid," he admitted. "I—I was wondering if you have a book I might borrow?" he asked wistfully. "Buffy asked me not to go into the bedrooms, and you don't have a library, so..."
Dawn turned to look at him and a reluctant smile graced her features. "You were really bored today, huh?"
"I did try to watch the TV as Buffy suggested, but I found it all rather vulgar for my taste," he said, screwing up his face in distaste.
Dawn resisted the urge to laugh at him. Hearing the vampire talk about television and its vulgarity reminded her of how much had changed with the aid of a simple spell. "Sure. I think I can find a book for you."
William trailed her upstairs, halting at her doorway, unsure of his welcome. "You coming in?" Dawn asked as she rummaged through her shelves, trying to find something he might like.
He stepped through the doorway and then stopped. "Do you—do you not like me?"
Dawn turned to look at him, startled. He had the same expression on his face that Spike had had when she'd asked him if vampires slept. It was wistful and curious and fearful at the same time. "Why would you ask that?"
"You just don't seem to care much for me," William replied. "Your sister as well. I thought perhaps I had offended you in some way, and if I can make amends..."
Dawn sat back on her heels. "It's not something you can fix."
His face fell. "I see. I hurt you then."
"Yeah, you did," Dawn replied, her voice chilly. Seeing the crestfallen expression on William's face, she sighed. "Well, not you, I guess. Spike."
"It was still me, was it not?" he asked mournfully. "I wish I could apologize, but—" William wasn't even sure what he was apologizing for, and he had no idea what the right words might be.
Dawn made a sudden decision. "Don't worry about it."
"But I—"
"No, really, William," she said insistently. "You went and got your soul because of it, so you tried to fix it. That's pretty special."
William fixed her with an intense stare, and suddenly he looked like Spike again. "If there's anything at all I can do, to make it up to you, just name it."
It didn't take but a moment for Dawn to realize that William was putting himself at her disposal, and she could see his loneliness and fear radiating out of his lean form. "Well, I know of one thing that always works for me."
"Name it," William said fervently, happy to be able to help, happier still to finally have company after a day filled with his own anguished thoughts.
Dawn smiled brightly, handing him a couple books. "For later," she told him. "Right now, what we need is in the kitchen."
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