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
"O Lady! we receive but what we give,/And in our life alone does nature live:/Ours is her wedding-garment, ours her shroud!/And would we aught behold, of higher worth,/Than that inanimate cold world allowed/To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd,/Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth,/A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud/Enveloping the Earth—/And from the soul itself must there be sent/A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth,/Of all sweet sounds the life and element!" ~Samuel Taylor Coleridge, "Dejection, An Ode"
He was hungry, and yet he had no desire to eat. William knew that his craving was not for food, but for blood, and he couldn't quite bring himself to satisfy it.
There had been dark dreams to haunt his sleep, although he couldn't recall the details. All he could remember was that there had been a girl—a woman—who had called him William and shattered his heart. Even though the face had been unclear, he was certain that it was Buffy, given what she had told him the previous night.
William's eyes were drawn unwillingly toward the small, cardboard box that held his things. He hadn't had the courage to open it yet, but he knew he needed to, knew he needed to find out all he could about Spike.
Rising from his cot, he went to the box and opened it slowly, pulling out various items one by one. There were a few shirts, mostly in black, and an extra pair of jeans. There were a few battered books whose titles he recognized, including a slim volume of poetry by Coleridge and another by Dante Rossetti.
Other things he didn't recognize, like the slim cases with the metallic discs inside, whose purpose he couldn't begin to guess.
There was nothing of himself here, though, except for the books. The rest of it was meaningless and gave him no clue as to the man he was currently supposed to be.
A sound from behind had him whirling around. He was feeling a little jumpy right now, wondering what else might happen while he wasn't looking. Willow gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry I scared you."
William was about to protest that she hadn't scared him, but he decided not to bother. Why lie when they both knew the truth? "Can I help you?"
"I was wondering if you'd eaten," she said hesitantly. Willow had noticed that the supply of blood Buffy had stocked up on wasn't much depleted. Spike—or William—was obviously not eating much, and that worried her.
William refused to meet her eyes. "I am not very hungry, thank you," he said politely.
Willow put on her resolve face. "You have to eat something."
She watched as his hands clenched into fists and then opened again. He was wound up tight, and Willow found that she wasn't surprised. Spike had been constantly in motion, full of energy—almost Tigger-like. William was much more sedate, but she had a feeling that it was mostly repression, not an internal change. He was holding himself back, and he was nearly ready to explode.
"Really, I'm fine."
"Do I have to get Buffy?"
His eyes flashed angrily. "I am perfectly capable of looking after myself."
"Except that you're not eating," Willow pointed out quietly. "William, vampires need blood, and that's what you are. There's nothing to be ashamed of."
William wanted to believe her but found it impossible. There seemed something inherently shameful in being a vampire, especially when the vampire was as inept as he seemed to be. "Why hasn't anyone killed me?"
It was a question that entered his mind with increasing regularity. Although Buffy and Willow had responded to variations on the theme, no one had explained why Buffy hadn't killed him yet. Wasn't that what she did? Last night's expedition had certainly seemed to indicate as much.
Willow hesitated. "You haven't done anything evil for a while," she hedged.
"But I hurt you in the past?" William pressed. "I hurt Dawn, and Buffy. So why hasn't anyone killed me?"
Willow made a face. "It's not that simple, William." She sighed. "Look, if I tell you, will you come upstairs and eat?"
He nodded eagerly, thinking he might finally get some answers. William wanted to know what he had done to Buffy, because he was certain that it was bad. Apparently, Willow wasn't going to say anything until after he ate, because she heated up a mug full of blood and stood there, watching him in silence.
With a grimace, William drank it down as quickly as possible, and then gave her his best pleading look. "Now will you tell me?"
Willow sighed. "It's complicated. Mostly, it was just that Buffy could never quite manage to kill you, and then there was the chip—"
"The chip?"
Willow frowned, wondering how she was going to explain that one. "The government messed with your head so that you couldn't hurt anybody."
William wasn't sure he understood, but he had the feeling that it might be impossible to explain things to him. "Okay. So I stopped hurting people? Is that when I helped Buffy save the world?"
"No, you helped before that. It wasn't until..." Willow trailed off. She was on a fool's errand. There was no way to explain to William the full story, not without giving him more information than he could possibly handle. "You helped Buffy save the world after that, and you helped take care of Dawn. That's pretty much when things changed." She laid her hand over his. "It doesn't matter when it happened, really. All that matters is that you did change. Being a vampire doesn't matter, William. It's what you do."
He couldn't help but believe her. The sincerity in her eyes and voice was proof enough—and she was touching him. It felt good to have someone touch him in concern and friendship.
The sound of the door opening broke the magic of the moment, and the sound of a man's voice startled him. " Willow ? You here?"
"In the kitchen, Xander," Willow called out, pulling back. She smiled at the dark-haired man in greeting. "Hey there."
"How's it going?" Xander asked, his eyes touching on the vampire briefly.
Willow hesitated. "It's going good. William, this is Xander, one of our friends." She gave Xander a meaningful look. "You already know William."
"Yeah, I do," Xander replied, his tone guarded but friendly enough. He stuck out his hand. "It's nice to meet you again," he quipped.
William shook hands warily, feeling uneasy about meeting another stranger who seemed to know all about him. "Likewise," he said formally.
Xander glanced over at Willow . "Are you ready to go?"
The witch let out her held breath. She hadn't been sure of how Xander would react to this changed Spike, but the meeting had gone better than she'd hoped for. "Sure. I'll see you later, William."
He called a faint goodbye, watching the easy camaraderie between the two of them, feeling as though he was on the outside again.
And William still didn't have solid information.
~~~~~
"Thanks, Xander," Willow said quietly once they were in the car.
Her best friend glanced over at her curiously. "Thanks for what?"
"For being nice," Willow replied. "I didn't think you would do that for Spike."
"That's not Spike," Xander replied easily.
Willow raised an eyebrow. "It looks like Spike."
"Maybe, but that's not him." Xander took a deep breath, trying to explain. "It's not just the spell, Wills. He got his soul. It's one thing for Angel to get cursed, but Spike went after his."
Willow stared at him in shock. "I didn't think that would matter to you."
"It doesn't," Xander replied. "Spike's still a vampire, which means he's still evil."
"But you were nice."
Xander looked uncomfortable. Spike getting his soul, without being cursed, threw a monkey wrench into his reasoning. Evil things didn't want to stop being evil, by definition, and yet that's exactly what Spike had done. It made no sense. While Xander had no intention of admitting that Spike had changed, he couldn't be cruel in good conscience.
"I can be nice," Xander said defensively.
"Uh huh." Willow 's tone was extremely dry. "Amazingly enough, the world didn't come to an end."
"He's evil."
"So was I, at least for a while."
~~~~~
William contented himself with the books that Dawn had loaned him. He longed for the sunshine, but he had no desire to be burned to ashes. The thought of living the rest of his life—which might be forever—never seeing the light of day was frightening, but he supposed it was something he would get used to in time.
The emptiness of the house was strange to him. At home, his mother had always been around, as well as a servant or two. William had never truly been alone, even though it had often felt that way.
He was rather relieved when Dawn came home to brighten things up a bit. He had decided the day before that he liked having the girl around. His own sister had died when he was about Dawn's age, and so William felt some connection with her for that reason.
More than that, however, Dawn had been unfailingly kind to him. William appreciated that more than anything else.
Dawn, for her part, liked having someone there when she got back from school. It reminded her of the times when she was little, before Joyce had started back to work full time. Her mom had always been waiting for her—to hear about her day, to find out how she was, to fix a snack. William was almost pathetically grateful to see her, and Dawn found it refreshing.
It was nice to have someone excited about you coming home.
William watched silently as Dawn fixed a snack and told him about her day. He had no idea what she was telling him most of the time, but it was important that he listen. He knew that much, at least. When she finally wound down, she looked at him. "So what did you do today?"
He shrugged. "Mostly just read."
Dawn knew that both Buffy and Willow had been concerned about getting William to eat. "Did you eat anything?"
William made a face. "Yes, I did. Why does everyone keep asking me that?"
"Maybe because we know how weird drinking blood is, and we care about you," Dawn suggested in return.
That got him thinking. "May I ask a question?"
She smiled. "Shoot."
"Are Willow and—" William hesitated, trying to remember the strange name. "—Xander together?"
"Xander came by today?" Dawn peered at William, trying to detect any damage that might have been done, but he appeared unhurt. She breathed a sigh of relief. William seemed more fragile than Spike had ever been. At his hesitant nod, she frowned slightly. "Together? No, they're just good friends."
William nodded, as though satisfied. "I see."
Dawn could see the wheels turning and felt some small sense of alarm. If William was developing a crush on Willow , she knew it needed to be nipped in the bud immediately. "William, Willow is—" She wondered if he even knew about this kind of thing. He seemed so naive. " Willow just lost someone."
"She's in mourning?" he asked innocently.
Dawn nodded, deciding that it was close enough. "Yeah. It happened a few months ago, and it was pretty bad."
"I am most sorry to hear that," William replied sincerely. "Do you think I ought to offer my condolences? Were they engaged?"
Dawn hid a wince. So much for dancing around the subject. "I don't know, William. No one ever talks about Tara anymore."
" Tara —" It was a woman's name, and yet all Dawn had said led William to believe that they were—"I'm not sure I understand."
" Willow doesn't like boys."
William blinked, trying to process that. "You're saying that she prefers women?"
"Yeah," Dawn said, watching his face carefully for any sign of what he was thinking. "She and Tara were in love."
William thought about it. "They were in love."
"Uh huh."
"And she died?"
"She was murdered."
"How horrible!" William exclaimed. He wasn't sure about the propriety or impropriety of the love between women, but it was love, was it not? And he hadn't any idea what this time and place made of such things. Perhaps it was considered commonplace, and Willow had been kind.
Perhaps she might consent to be his friend.
"It was horrible. Tara was really great." Dawn hadn't felt comfortable talking to anyone else about it, but William was looking at her so sympathetically that the story started pouring out. Before she knew it, he had led her to the couch in the living room and was holding her hand and letting her cry.
How did he do it? Dawn wondered. Spike would probably been completely thrown off by her tears, but William was sitting there calmly, patting her hand, letting her talk. He made her feel safe, just like Spike had the summer Buffy was gone.
It was Spike, and it wasn't, and Dawn finally just put her head on his shoulder. "I miss her."
"I know," he said softly, because it was obvious to him. "I imagine you will for some time."
"She liked you," Dawn said suddenly. " Tara did, I mean."
William wasn't sure how to take that, but it sounded nice. There had been someone who liked him. "And you?"
"I loved you," Dawn said simply. "I still do."
William held her tightly.
~~~~~
It had been a long day. There had been the double shift at the restaurant when one of the other servers got sick—although Buffy hadn't minded too much. It meant more money, and her job wasn't the hellhole that had been the Doublemeat. Of course, once she got off work, it was after dark, and there was patrol to do.
She came in the back and slumped against the wall. Buffy wasn't sure she was up for dealing with William this evening even though she wanted to see him. She had asked Willow to make sure he ate and had asked Dawn to keep an eye on him once she got back from school. The Slayer's biggest fear was that he would do something stupid that would result in his getting killed.
Thinking about Spike being gone forever made her stomach ache.
Tomorrow was her day off, however, and so Buffy had plans to spend it with him. She had no idea what they would do, but she wanted to get to know him better. She wanted to be near him in a way she hadn't allowed herself the previous year.
After a moment spent gathering her strength, she followed the voices into the living room. Dawn was sprawled over the couch, leaning against William, who was actually looking relaxed. He usually sat and stood ram-rod straight.
"Hey, guys," Buffy said, seating herself in the chair. Her eyes drifted to the screen. "Whatcha watching?"
" Casablanca ," Dawn replied. "It was on the old movie channel."
Buffy leaned back in the chair, letting the weariness overtake her. "What do you think of it so far, William?"
"It's brilliant," he murmured, obviously entranced. "It's like a novel one can see."
Buffy and Dawn exchanged an amused look, and then they focused on the TV once again. The Slayer had seen the movie before, and so it wasn't long before she drifted off, lulled by the sounds coming from the television and the knowledge that Dawn and William were there.
When the movie was over, Dawn stood, yawning. "I need to get to bed."
"You're tired," William observed. "I'm sorry for keeping you up. I—"
"It was fun," Dawn said firmly. "I'm glad we did this."
A shy smile touched his lips. "Did we do this often?"
"Not often enough." She looked over at her sister. "I guess we should probably wake her up."
A strange look passed over William's face, and he shook his head. "No, let her sleep. I'll see her to her bed."
Dawn gave him a considering look and then nodded. "Okay. Good night, William."
William stood over Buffy, watching her. She looked different in her sleep, softer somehow. She almost looked like a woman he might fall in love with. He reached out to brush a lock of hair from her face, and then drew his hand back immediately. It was foolish to think she might love him now when she hadn't before.
Silly to think she could care for him, someone who was so obviously beneath her. She needed a warrior, and he was nothing but a failed poet.
William stooped and picked her up, and her weight was nothing to him. She fit in his arms as though she was made to do so.
He only wished that were the case.
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