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
"Love, we're going home now,/where the vines clamber over the trellis...we return, across the crackling sea/like two blind birds to their wall,/to their nest in the distant spring:/ because love cannot always fly without resting,/our lives return to the wall, to the rocks of the sea:/our kisses head back home where they belong." ~Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XXXIII
Dawn stifled a giggle as William stared at her incredulously. "You must be joking," he said flatly.
"Try it," she insisted, holding out the spoon. "I promise it'll be good."
William didn't move. "I don't know, Dawn."
"Don't you trust me?" Dawn used every weapon in her arsenal—the dewy eyes, the breathless voice with just a hint of tears, the threat of hurt feelings with only her tone. It had worked on Spike innumerable times.
Apparently, Spike wasn't so different than William after all. "Of course I trust you," William said. "It's simply that—raw dough? It that healthy?"
"I eat raw dough all the time, and I haven't died," Dawn pointed out logically. "Besides, you're a vampire. You can't get sick."
That put things in a new light, and William took a tentative nibble of the gooey mess. After a second's consideration, he stuck the whole spoon in his mouth. Dawn smiled smugly. "I told you so."
Spike would have made some smart-ass remark, but William simply nodded. "You did. I shall not doubt your word again, Dawn. Forgive me?"
"Yeah, sure," she replied, rather taken aback by his apology. "No big deal." Dawn started dropping spoonfuls onto the waiting cookie sheet. "They're almost as good right out of the oven," she confided. "I haven't been able to decide what I like best yet."
William licked off the last morsel of dough. "I would be happy to give you a second opinion."
His words startled a laugh out of Dawn, who hadn't realized that William had a sense of humor. Not that he was completely dull, but William seemed more solemn than Spike had been.
More solemn than Spike pre-soul anyway. Dawn hadn't had the opportunity to decide what she thought of the souled Spike. "Do you have tea, or do you prefer an early dinner?" he inquired politely.
Dawn stared at him, trying to decipher the meaning behind his words. "We can have tea whenever, if you want some."
William shook his head. "No, when do you eat?"
"Whenever," Dawn replied, turning so that he couldn't see the grief in her eyes. She still remembered when Joyce was alive, and they would all sit down and eat together. After Buffy was called, it hadn't happened very often, but it was a slightly more regular occurrence.
"You don't eat together?" he asked in surprise.
"We used to when Mom was still alive," Dawn explained. "When she and Buffy weren't too busy, but it's been harder since then. We're never here at the same time."
It was his turn to look away, not wanting her to read the emotion in her eyes. "I'm sorry. My mother—" He faltered. "She was quite ill. I—I don't doubt that she's long passed."
Dawn very nearly replied with, "No shit, Sherlock. It's been a hundred years." She pulled herself back, however, knowing that it hadn't been that long for William. In fact, his grief was fresher than hers. At least she'd had the opportunity to get used to the idea. It was a wonder that he hadn't gone crazier than he was before, right after he got back to Sunnydale.
Instead, she said only, "I know. It really sucks."
William was actually beginning to get used to some of this slang they were always using. He could interpret Dawn's meaning well enough from her tone of voice and expression. "When did your mother—"
"Over a year ago," she replied, proud that her voice didn't shake. "She was sick too."
William nodded, speaking from personal experience. "It's difficult to watch a loved one take ill."
Dawn nodded, but said nothing, and he decided to change the subject. "So if you do not have a set time for dinner, when will you eat?"
"I don't know," Dawn said. "Are you hungry?"
"A bit," William replied, but those words didn't quite describe what he was feeling. It was like a thirst that would never be quenched. He was doing his best to ignore it. "I could make something for us."
Dawn's eyes widened. "You know how to cook?"
"Well enough," William replied, shrugging. "After mother became ill, someone had to do the cooking on Cook's day off."
Even if he couldn't cook, it would be fun watching, Dawn decided. "Cool. You cook, and I'll watch. I'm really good at that."
~~~~~
When Buffy walked through the front door, she smelled food. It wasn't the usual scents of burnt whatever, or one of Dawn's weird concoctions. It smelled like dinner, like something she wouldn't mind eating.
She walked into the kitchen to find William and Dawn chatting away like the best of friends. William clammed up as soon as he saw her.
"Hey, guys. What's cooking?" Buffy knew she ought to apologize for overreacting earlier that day. Spike would have gotten snarky right back or said something rude. He might have pouted until she couldn't stand it anymore. William, apparently, was also going to pout, but he was going to be very polite about it.
Somehow, Buffy found that even more irritating.
"William is making dinner," Dawn said with a raised eyebrow, knowing exactly what was going on. The vampire had told her exactly what happened and what had been said that morning, and Dawn didn't blame him for being angry. It wasn't his fault he wasn't used to being a vampire.
Buffy managed a smile. "I can see that. What are you making?"
William answered stiffly. "I am using one of your mother's recipes. She was very meticulous in her directions, Miss Summers."
Dawn tried—and failed—to hide a smile. William's method of showing his anger was bound to irritate Buffy to no end. "I showed him how to use the stove, but he's pretty good at following directions."
Buffy wanted to make a comment about how Spike never followed directions, but it didn't seem like the appropriate time. Especially since she was still peeved at being called "Miss Summers." "Buffy is just fine, William," she said. "You don't have to be so formal."
He seemed to stiffen further, if that was possible. "As you wish."
The silence seemed to stretch on, and Buffy had no idea what to say. Dawn smirked at her and then left the kitchen, announcing, "I've got homework to do."
"Sp—William," the Slayer began, knowing that she really did need to smooth things over.
"Please don't trouble yourself on my behalf," he said quietly. "I realize that having me here is very inconvenient for you, and—"
"It's not inconvenient!" Buffy protested. "What would make you think something like that?"
He turned and arched an eyebrow, and he suddenly looked exactly like Spike. It was Spike standing in front of her, looking at her as though she'd just asked something that should be as plain as the nose on her face.
Missing Spike hit her somewhere at gut level. She missed Spike like she would miss oxygen.
"Having me as a guest in your home is hardly proper," he said firmly. "I'm not sure what our relationship was before, but we are certainly not related, nor was there any understanding between us. There is no chaperone, and—"
"I don't need a chaperone, William," Buffy interrupted. "I've been on my own for a while now, and if I want to have a guy living here with us, no big deal. No one is going to care."
He turned from her, and Buffy could still see the tension in his shoulders even though his voice gave nothing away. "I do realize that I cannot go outside during the day, but I should like to take a walk tonight. If you could direct me to a park, I would most appreciate it."
"I don't think that's a good idea," Buffy hedged. This wasn't Spike; William might or might not have any idea of how to take care of himself. If he ran into trouble and got hurt, Buffy would never forgive herself.
William whirled to face her, his form trembling with repressed emotion. "You cannot keep me here! You—" He stopped short of threatening to leave. Where else could he go? He knew no one, and had no way to get any money. William didn't even know where to get blood, and without it he would starve—if not to death, it would at the very least be terribly unpleasant.
"I'm sorry," Buffy said quietly. Without thinking about what she was doing, she moved forward, trapping him against the counter unless he wanted to push past her. She placed a gentle hand on his arm and spoke in a voice designed to soothe.
It was odd. Buffy had never really had any inclination to comfort Spike. The closest she had come was after Glory got done torturing him; she had offered a chaste kiss in thanks. He'd looked so hurt, so lost, she had wanted to let him know what he had gained that day.
There had been almost a year where comfort had been the furthest thing from her mind. She had, in fact, used him to comfort herself.
"You scared me this morning," she said quietly. "I feel like I'm responsible for this mess, and I want to bring you through this in one piece. I don't want to see you hurt."
Buffy wasn't talking to him, William realized. She was talking to the person he'd been before they had done the spell—the one they kept calling Spike, hoping he wouldn't notice. It hurt that they kept looking past him, at some other man with whom he had no acquaintance, never mind that they shared the same body.
No one ever really looked at him. No one ever really saw him.
"I understand," he said quickly. "You did put out the fire, so I'm grateful."
There was hurt in his eyes, and Buffy wondered what she had done wrong now. "It's not safe for pretty much anybody after dark, William, and you're not used to how things happen yet."
"I'm a vampire, am I not?" William asked. "Surely—"
Buffy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "You didn't remember to stay out of the sun," she pointed out, trying to be gentle. "Yes, you're a vampire, but you have the same instincts you did when..."
She trailed off, and William looked rueful. "You're right, of course," he said, beginning to pull away. "I suppose wandering around after dark was what got me here in the first place." Then, wistfully, he added, "I would like to be able to go outside, however."
Buffy felt horrible. He was probably feeling like a prisoner inside her house, and that wasn't fair to him. There wasn't any reason for him not to go outside, as long as he stayed close to the house, or—"Why don't you come with me tonight?" she asked impulsively. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the Slayer knew it was a mistake. What if they ran into trouble? William would probably shriek and run in the other direction, leaving her to take care of the monster and chase him down later.
Still, his entire face had lit up at the suggestion, and Buffy knew he'd probably been both bored and lonely all day. Spike had been a social creature, and it wouldn't surprise her a bit to find out that William was the same. There was no way to retract her invitation now.
"That would be nice," William admitted. He wanted to be outside. Although he had never been much for the outdoors, the forced time inside had made him long to see the sky. It was certainly true that one wanted what one could not have. "I wouldn't be in the way, would I?"
It was the perfect out, and Buffy was too much of a coward to take it. "Of course not," she replied cheerfully. "It'll probably be dead tonight anyway."
She bit back a groan as soon as the words left her mouth. She'd just jinxed them for sure.
~~~~~
"You're what?" Willow demanded when Buffy told her what their plans were later that evening. The witch had insisted that she and Buffy do the cleanup since William had cooked. It had been a rather impressive meal, especially compared to what usually made its way to the table. Unlike the rest of them, William not only followed directions, but also seemed to have a knack for not burning things.
He'd seemed much more cheerful after their hearty compliments, for which Buffy was grateful. She was realizing that she hated to see Spike unhappy—and she didn't particularly like the look on his alter ego either.
"I'm taking him out on patrol with me," Buffy repeated, her voice becoming more uncertain towards the end. "Wills, he wanted to go outside, on a walk. It's not safe for him to go by himself."
"So you're taking him to go fight the bad guys," Willow said. "Explain how that makes any kind of sense."
"It's full of sense!" Buffy defended. "He wanted to go outside."
Willow rolled her eyes. "Take him to the park, bring him back, and then go on patrol." She gave Buffy a suspicious look. "Are you sure this isn't a way to try to jog his memory? Or bring back the demon or whatever?"
"No," Buffy replied, but her voice was defensive enough so that Willow knew she'd probably hit the nail on the head. At the redhead's expression, she sighed. "I want Spike back, Willow . I missed him while he was gone, and then he came back and—it's like he's right there, but out of reach."
"That's because he is right there and out of reach," Willow said gently. "Buffy, you have to give this some time." She lowered her voice even more. "I don't know how long this is going to last."
Buffy's eyes widened. "What are you talking about? I thought you said the spell wasn't permanent!"
"The spell I was trying to do isn't permanent," Willow assured her. "But the spell I did wasn't supposed to do that . I have no idea what the long term results are going to be." The witch hesitated, and then said quietly, "I'm going to keep researching. There might be a way to undo the spell while still leaving Spike protected, but maybe this was what the First wanted. Maybe it wanted to get rid of Spike."
Buffy shook her head stubbornly. "No, Wills. You should have seen William today. He did that eyebrow thing that Spike always did. He's—"
"He's part of Spike, Buffy," Willow reminded her. "William is basically the raw material that Spike came from. The rest of it will probably come back in time, but we don't know that for sure. I think you should be prepared for the possibility that what you see is what you're going to get."
Buffy blinked back tears. If Willow was right, if the Spike she had known never came back, what then?
She knew the answer to that question, of course. Spike had gotten his soul for her. In a sense, that was what she was left with now, and so William was more than her responsibility.
William was hers, whether Spike came back or not.
Submit a Review!