Chapter Thirteen
Eve and Colleen Witfield 1854-1872,'80
As I'm sure you're aware, Buffy Summers died in May 2001. it was a difficult time for all of us, made doubly so by the fact that we couldn't give her a proper send-off. Her death had to be held a closely secret. If the demon world were to learn of her demise, Sunnydale would be overrun to apocalyptic proportions. The "creepy Hell-place" whence Willow's doppelgänger came would become more than just a half-remembered, half-told tale, from a half-remembered dream. It would become a stone cold reality.
Additionally, there was the question of what would become of Dawn if authorities learned of yet another familial loss. Would Child Services really entrust Dawn's care with two lesbians? Would they be any more likely to give custody to an unwed construction worker whose live-in girlfriend has a biography with more holes in it than it took to sink the Titanic? This is to say nothing of what would happen should Hank Summers re-enter the picture.
Because of this, the Slayer had to be laid to rest under the cover of darkness, with no pomp, and no circumstance. Neither myself, nor any of the "Scoobies" could find the emotional strength to wield a shovel, and throw dirt upon our dearly departed. Recognizing the scope of the tragedy, but not feeling it as deeply as we, the "Slayerettes", some members of my family came to lend a hand. Among them were Eve and Colleen.
Time to Run
In a scene baring an eerie resemblance to Snow White, with the Slayer laid out in the living room before her seven closest friends, waiting for darkness to fall, I sat down with my fifth-great Aunt, and my forth great grandmother to discuss their own mortality. Eve opens the conversation where Audra left off, the night she and Lex were captured.
We got up 'cause of all the commotion, but we never made it past the bottom of the stairs. Even a six-year-old knows better than to interrupt a screaming match like that. We didn't know Angelus was there. We just thought our mum and Aunt Lex were getting into it with Uncle Eddie again. Like maybe they were trying to take off again. So we just stayed on the steps and listened. Then all of the sudden Maggie comes barreling around the corner and before we can even ask what's going on, she scoops us both up under her arms and practically hurls us up the stairs all the way to the attic. We stayed up there all night huddled in the corner, and she never did tell us what was going on. She just rocked us back and forth all night long, whispering "Hail Mary's" and such. Truthfully, I think that was when she really broke.
None of us really slept that night, though I think must have dozed off here and there. I know Maggie didn't sleep, 'cause every time I woke up, she was still muttering her prayers. When the sun came up, and started pouring through the attic window, Maggie did a complete 180. she went from muttering incoherently, rocking back and forth like a crazy person, to running around the house like a chicken with its head cut off. She jumped up and started dragging us out of the attic and back to our room. I swear it felt like we were flying down the stairs.
So we get to our room and she starts pulling clothes out of everywhere and stuffing some into our overnight bags, and throwing some at us, telling us to put them all on because [imitates Dru] "It's frightfully cold out." Then she stops dead in her tracks all of the sudden , like, and bolts out of the room. Colleen and me were just dumbfounded. We just stood there, looking at each other and watching Maggie run back and forth. It was like watching a tennis match. She comes back in with The Book, and starts to shove it at Colleen until she realized that neither of us have moved a single inch. And she's like, "Why aren't you dressed?" Colleen and I just look at each other, then back at her. We cross our arms like a couple of bratty six-year-olds, and Colleen's like, "We're not doing anything you say until you tell us what's going on. Where's our mum? Where's Uncle Eddie?" I swear it was like she aged ten years with that question. Maggie, I mean. She just… crumbled. She plopped down on our bed and just looked at us for a minute. Then she says, "They're dead. Your mum, my mum, all of 'em. They're all gone. It's just us, now." Then she told us what had happened.
You would think we'd've burst into tears or started throwing a fit or something, but we didn't. I think maybe deep down, we were expecting it. I mean, they tried to keep it from us, what had been happening, with our dad and everything, but we weren't stupid. We knew something was going on that wasn't good. Still, it was a shock, hearing it like that. I mean it's not every day you find out that your family was murdered in one evening. But we did know about Angelus. Our mum and Aunt Lex had told us all the stories, and showed us the pictures for as far back as we could remember. So it's not like we thought Maggie was lying to us, or exaggerating or anything. Plus, why would she?
Taking Margaret at her word, Eve and Colleen obeyed her instructions to don every article of clothing they could, without restricting their movement, and packed the rest into their two overnight bags. Colleen took possession of The Book, and the three remaining Witfields made their way to the front door. This time, Eve remembered to bring Miss Edith. Colleen describes their final tearful goodbye.
We'd been so busy packing and what not, that neither of us noticed she hadn't packed a thing for herself, until we got to the door. I said, "Where are your things? Aren't you coming?" She explained that since Angelus had already seen her, had in fact been targeting her from the start, it wasn't safe for us to stay together. "He'll be coming back for me," she told us. "Best he not find the two of you when he does." She was certain he didn't know about us, and we all agreed we wanted to keep it that way as long as possible. On the other hand, I thought it was rather silly for her to stay behind, knowing Angelus was gonna come back looking for her. I told her as much, but she assured us she would be leaving, too, as soon as she knew we were safely away. We weren't exactly thrilled with idea of going out into the world by ourselves, or leaving her behind, but it was pretty clear that she'd made up her mind, and she seemed to know what she was doing so we went along with it. That's when Eve gave her Miss Edith. So she wouldn't have to be alone, she said.
Meet the Walthrops
Not knowing where they would go, or how they would possibly survive on their own, Eve and Colleen set the record for being the youngest in my family to set off on their own. Wearing what Colleen insists were, "like twelve layers of clothes", each carrying a small overnight bag that was perhaps too large for their small frames to carry, stuffed to the brim, with Colleen carrying the overlarge family diary, the two six-year-olds stepped out into the bitter London cold for parts unknown. They waved a final goodbye to their half-sister/Aunt Maggie, and trudged off in what they hoped was the direction of downtown. There, they thought, surely they would find someone safe and trustworthy, who would be willing to take them in. However, the chill temperatures, and the overcast sky left them little hope of success. They felt certain than no human in their right mind would be out and about in this weather, and the thin sliver of sunlight peeking out from the tiniest of holes in the clouds would not be enough to stop a vampire, especially one as resilient as Angelus.
The gods were smiling on them that day, however. Angelus was keeping himself well entertained with his new pets, and was thus unaware of the vampire-friendly climate outside. Eve and Colleen, meanwhile, had no trouble reaching London's business district, save for their heavy loads, and the near freezing temperatures that made it hard to move. As expected, when they reached downtown, the found the streets nearly deserted, with the exception of a few cabs parked here and there, waiting for fares that wouldn't soon be coming. With little money, and no destination, these cabs weren't of any use to Eve and Colleen, so they resigned themselves to huddling under an awning, praying to be noticed and pitied by some passerby, holding each other for warmth. Though it seemed like an eternity for the little girls, it likely wasn't that long in actuality, before they spied a mother and her young son, roughly the same age as the twins themselves, coming out of an optician's office. Eve recalls the incident.
We could hear 'em arguing as they were walking towards us. Apparently he had just got his first pair of eyeglasses, and he was none too happy about it. He thought they made him look stupid, that everyone was gonna pick on him. He was right. He looked like a dork. They were too big for his face, so he had to keep pushing them up with his finger. Really, all he needed was a pocket protector and a bow tie to complete the picture.
Though the twins feared that the mother and son would fail to notice them amid their arguing, notice them they did. Indeed, it was hard not to notice two frail little girls, identical twins no less, huddled on the street, when no one else was about. The pair introduced themselves as Anne and William Walthrop. William was seven years old, and had indeed just acquired his first pair of glasses. When asked why the two little girls were out alone on such a blistery day, Colleen told them as much of the truth as she dared.
I said that our parents had been murdered in the night while we were sleeping, so we ran away before whoever did it could kill us, too. Even to my own ears it sounded too horrible to possibly be true, though I knew it was. I thought, "No way will they believe us." William seemed skeptical, but Anne believed it without question. She said, "Oh, you poor dears. Have you gone to the police?" I told her that I didn't think the police could help, and that we were afraid of going to an orphanage, because we'd heard they were bad places. She says, "No need to worry about that. You live with us, now." And before we could even think about arguing, not that we would've, she was grabbing our hands and leading us away. It would've been scary if we hadn't been looking for just such an offer. Plus, you know, she was a mother. So she had to be safe.
On the long cab ride back to the Walthrop residence, Mother Anne, as she chose to be called, prattled on about how she had always wanted daughters, and how she just knew the twins were going to love their new home. Eve kept her occupied with conversation, while Colleen and William spoke quietly amongst themselves.
By now, Dear Reader, you've probably come to expect that this would be the point in my narrative, where my interviewees take over the story from their point of view. I assure you, this will indeed be the case. First, however, I feel it's important to point out that until the four of us sat down to have this conversation, on that fateful day following Buffy's death, Spike had not knowingly been in the same room with Colleen since just after her own death, in the Fall of 1880. In fact, until the two of them showed up on the Summers' doorstep, smoking ever so slightly, Spike had been under the impression that Colleen had died all those years ago, from a self-inflicted stake to the heart (more on this later). As a result, their respective narratives were often interrupted by the other one adding his or her two cents. At times, it began to resemble a couples counseling session, more than an interview. While this tended to interrupt the flow of the tale, somewhat, I found it to be rather entertaining, and it was welcome distraction from the dead Slayer in the living room. I've decided to share a bit of it, here, edited for length, of course.
Excerpt from Discussion:
William "Spike" Walthrop, Colleen Witfield
Spike: At first, I thought she was making the whole thing up, y'know? Like maybe-
Colleen: (insulted) Who would make up something like that?
Spike: (pointedly) Don't know, Love. Maybe the same someone who would let someone that cares about her think she was a pile of dust.
Colleen: (scoffs) If you really cared about me, you'd have stayed away. Or better still, stayed home like I asked you, instead of chasing after that tramp-
Spike: You take that back! Cecily was a lady!
Colleen: She was a spoiled, self-centered bitch! Just like the rest of those snooty aristocrats you were so desperate to fit in with. The only reason they even invited you to those parties, was out of pity, and because tearing you down somehow made them feel better about their own worthless existence.
Spike: That's not true!
Colleen: It is, and you know it! You were never one of the elite, William, and everybody knew it. You were a joke to them. But you just couldn't resist making an ass of yourself at every turn, trying to be something you're not.
Colleen refers to William's seemingly endless quest to be part of the "In-Crowd". Throughout his entire educational career, and even into adulthood, William wanted nothing more than to be accepted by the popular people. In today's high schools, it would be the football players, the cheerleaders, the rich kids that throw the wild parties when their parents are out of town. In short, William was a "Wannabe". Sad, but true. Unfortunately, William had no redeeming qualities to speak of, at least none that interested the crowd of which he was so desperate to be a part.
First Impressions
Colleen's harsh words gave Spike pause, for a moment, and I took the opportunity to attempt to steer the conversation back to the original topic. It took some cajoling on my part, but I finally convinced Colleen to keep her peace while Spike told his side of things. It certainly didn't hurt that I also played the guilt card, reminding them all that we did have a burial to attend to that evening, and that perhaps it wasn't the best time to be arguing over the first impressions of a seven-year-old. They may not have souls, but that doesn't mean they are completely without class. The discussion continues in a more civilized fashion, with very few snarky interruptions. Spike's words appear in bold.
Right. As I was saying, (pointed look at Colleen) I thought they were making up the story about their parents. It just seemed too unbelievable. That sort of thing just didn't happen, you know. I thought they just didn't want to go home. (shrugs) I was seven. What did I know? I knew a couple kids in school that never wanted to go home 'cause their father was a drunk, so I thought maybe that was the case with them. So that's the first thing I asked her. My mum woulda had my hide, if she'd heard me, but she was too busy goin' on and on about the house, and what all, she wasn't paying any attention to me at all.
A touch of bitterness creeps into his voice as he says this, but he quickly pushes that down again as he continues.
And it's not like I would've told anyone if it was true. I… I didn't really have that many friends in those days. (looks down, embarrassed) I was kind of a… [Colleen interjects, "A nerd?"] (Spike glares, but continues without correcting her)So, I wasn't gonna ruin the one chance I had. Except I did. Or thought I did. 'Cause then she starts crying. Not out loud, but I could see her. She got all teary, and starts looking down at her shoes, and cradling that Book (nods at the Family Diary on the desk) like it was going to protect her or something. I felt like such a jerk. So I tried to apologize, but then she changes the bloody subject on me and starts talkin' about my glasses.
At an inquisitive look from me, Colleen takes over the discussion to explain her side of things.
I didn't wanna talk about what happened. I didn't even really know what happened, other than what Maggie had told us, which wasn't much. And there really wasn't much more to say about it, without getting into the whole Angelus thing, which I definitely was not about to do. Not with Mother Anne sitting right there. (shrugs) I knew he was sensitive about his glasses, so I latched onto that, said I liked them. (smiles, remembering) He sits up all proud, like, and starts adjusting them just so, and he's like, "Yeah? You don't think they make me stupid?" Well, yeah, I did think, but instead what I said was, "Oh, no. I think they make you look very smart. And handsome, too." (shrugs) So I was a bit of a flirt. What of it? It got the subject off of me. And it was well worth it to see him turn all red like that. (notices Spike) Huh, kinda like that. And they say vampires can't blush.
This led to an overlong discussion on whether or not Spike was, in fact, blushing at that particular moment, whether if it was even possible for a vampire to blush. I was of the opinion that yes he was, and yes they could. Spike insisted that no, they don't, they can't, and he wasn't. I argued that vampires weren't supposed to be able to breathe, either, but I had been witness to Spike doing exactly that on several occasions, and doing quite a lot of it. This comment drew more than a few raised eyebrows, some more non-blushing from Spike, and at least one complaint of nausea from the humans in the room.
I let it go on for a bit, as it seemed to melt some of the tension in the room, particularly between Spike and Colleen. She had confessed to me on previous occasions that she had never really forgiven Spike (though she still calls him, "William") for what had happened to her and Mother Anne, or for that matter, what happened to him. I wasn't especially inclined to interrupt them while they appeared to be getting along. Time wasn't completely 'of the essence', as it was still hours before dark, when we would be able to attend to the unpleasantness of the Slayer, and there was still the matter of first notifying Angel, which would also not be possible until that evening as he and my sister were still stuck in another dimension.
Finally, when the discussion veered toward topics that tended to make the Scoobies question my sanity, and made myself another example a blushing vampire, I changed the subject back to Colleen and William. The conversation tended to flow in a non-linear fashion, but I will try to piece it together for you in chronological order.
After William's rather blunt accusation towards Colleen, their conversation ceased for the rest of the cab ride, and they resigned themselves to listening to Mother Anne's excited chatter. When they arrived at the Walthrop Manner, William gave the girls a tour of the home, while Mother Anne set about preparing brunch. Though Eve and Colleen were first shown the room they would call their own for the rest of their lives, so they could set down their belongings, Colleen continued to carry The Book throughout the rest of the house. She explains:
[The Book] was like a security blanket. He was right (nods to Spike) that I thought it could protect me. I don't mean The Book, itself, of course, but even though I couldn't read it, yet, I knew there were things in there that would be of use to me in the future. So I wanted to keep it with me. Plus, you know, it was all I had left of my mother. I just wasn't ready to let it go, just yet. And there was also the fear that Mother Anne might read it, and put us out. I don't why. (shrugs) I was six. I had just lost my whole family. I was scared. Keeping The Book with me made me feel safe.
William, being the perceptive sort that he was (and still is), picked up on this immediately, and took the opportunity to question her about it, while they were away from the prying eyes and ears of his mother. Despite strong protests from Eve, Colleen decided that William deserved to know the truth about their family's legacy.
Mostly, she explains, I just wanted to tell someone. I couldn't tell Mother Anne, because of course there was no way she would believe us. Or if she did, she surely wouldn't allow us to stay. But William, he was a kid, like us. I knew he wouldn't tell, and if anyone would believe our story, he would. So I sat him down in our room, and I showed it to him. Like I said, I couldn't read it of course, but our mother and Aunt Lex had been telling us the stories for as far back as we could remember. I told William as much as I could remember at the time, while we flipped through The Book together.
In light of future events, I was taken aback upon learning that William had seen The Book early on. I couldn't understand why he would've taken certain actions, given what Colleen had told him about our family, and especially having had access to certain photographs. I will discuss this in further detail later in this chapter. For the sake of continuity, I'm going to skip past the argument that ensued as a result of my confusion, and move straight to Spike's recollections of Colleen's lesson.
I gotta admit I had my doubts. It sounded to me like those stories parents use to scare their kids with, get 'em to eat their vegetables. But there was all those pictures of him. A hundred years old, some of 'em. Course, that didn't really prove nothing, I reckon, seein's how they were drawings. Same person could've done all of 'em, then put any date they wanted. (shrug) They looked authentic enough. But the news clippings, those are what convinced me. I couldn't read any of the diary entries, 'cause of the handwriting, but I could read those. All those murders, and disappearances happenin' to one family like that seemed like a helluva coincidence. I wasn't quite ready to buy into the notion of vampires (wry chuckle), but I thought somethin' sure had it in for 'em.
After Colleen's history lesson, William excused himself under the pretense of letting the girls settle in. There was no further conversation between William and the girls for the rest of the day, but rather an awkward, tension-filled silence. At the time, this silence was chalked up to run-of-the-mill shyness, but Spike admits now that he had been contemplating telling his mother what he had learned about his new housemates. He reasoned that if someone, or something, was indeed hunting them, then there was a chance he and his mother would become targets as well. Though he longed for the companionship of children his own age, even if they were girls, he thought perhaps it would be better if these girls took up residence somewhere else.
To his credit, young William kept these concerns to himself until late that night, long after his mother had gone to bed, and well past the time when he himself should have been fast asleep. He snuck out of his room, to the twins' room, to find that they, too were wide awake, discussing the very thing he had come talk to them about. Eve explains.
I thought it was a mistake, telling William about Angelus. I tried to tell her that before, but she didn't listen. Wouldn't listen and William didn't talk to us for the rest of day. Wouldn't hardly look at us. And when he did, he had this… (flutters her fingers in front of her face searching for the right word).. look. I just knew he was waiting for the right time to tell his mum on us. We'd been arguing about it since we went to bed. She just wouldn't listen to reason, still doesn't. To hear her talk, you'd think the kid walked on water.
Having inadvertently eavesdropped on Eve and Colleen's argument, William was hesitant to knock on the door. Clearly Eve didn't think very highly of him. All day long she had been staring him down, as if daring him to run to his mother with what Colleen had told him. It was true that he had been contemplating doing just that. The notion that some mysterious boogeyman might invade his home in the middle of the night, and kill him and his mother just because these two little girls happened to be living with them, terrified William more than anything. But Colleen was the first person, besides his mother, of course, who was nice to him right out of the gate. She even liked his glasses, which were sure to be his undoing when he went back to school. Colleen had made him promise not to tell, and he was determined not to betray her. Now though, hearing Eve's assertion that he had either already told, or was at that moment, it was enough to make him turn tail and do just that. Spike recalls.
It was an outrage, is what it was. She'd already written me off. Didn't even give me a chance. Yeah, I wanted to tell, sure. I was a little kid, I was scared. But I promised I wouldn't. And I keep my promises.
This declaration brought a few raised eyebrows from the other Scoobies. He turned to me for affirmation.
Don't I, Rowynne? Have you ever known me to break my word? Or lie? Can you even think of a single time where I've lied or haven't kept my word?
I searched my memory through the three and a half years that I've known him. I had to admit that I'd never really seen him lie. He's omitted facts, stretched the truth on occasion, and there've been times when he's been disingenuous. But lied? No. Not really. True, he had told Buffy that he'd never come back to Sunnydale, when they teamed up to stop Angelus, but he had qualified that by saying, "I bloody well hope." So technically, he didn't promise, or lie. The only time I could recall when he actually lied, was when he told Glory that The Key was Bob Barker. And the only promise he's ever broken, was when he promised to kill Buffy. Given the current circumstances, I kept both of these instances to myself, and instead merely agreed that it was true. He continued.
So I thought if that was what she thought of me, then who was I to argue? We'll just see how she likes living in an orphanage. I didn't wanna share my home with her anyway. So I started to go back, and wake up my mum, but then I heard Colleen, defending me. "He wouldn't do that," she says. "I trust him."
He looks at Colleen, as he quotes her, and a moment passes between them, that I'm sure hasn't happened in over a hundred years. It passes, and he turns back to me.
She'd known me for less than a day, and she trusted me. Completely. With this huge secret. She hadn't considered for a minute that I might betray her. My own mum didn't trust me like that. I couldn't even walk to school by myself. But Colleen (looks at her), she had total faith in me. I made up my mind, then, that I couldn't let her down.
Another moment passed between my fourth-great grandparents that gave me the chills. I found myself imagining what their relationship may have been like, had William never gone to that ill-fated party, or if Colleen hadn't had the fear of Angelus looming over her head, keeping her from accepting William's proposal. I couldn't help feeling bad for them, thinking what they might have had, and now could never be. On the other hand, if things had been different for them, if they had lived happily ever after, then I wouldn't be alive today. Or undead, rather. I wouldn't exist at all, and I like existing, thank you very much.
Eve's Lament
The conversation between William and Colleen, that first night, formed the foundation for a lasting bond between the two, with Eve often left standing on the sidelines. Eve's early distrust, and Colleen's unwavering, if not blind trust, of William drove a wedge between them that only grew more pronounced over time. As Colleen and William grew closer, Eve and Colleen drifted farther apart. Colleen insists it was unintentional.
I wasn't trying to push her away. (turns to Eve) I wasn't. (turns back) We tried to include her in stuff. But she just wasn't interested. After a while, we just stopped trying. Figured she'd eventually come 'round on her own. But she never did. By the time she… (stops, considering her next words)… left, we were practically strangers. It was no wonder she wanted to go right then, when she did, rather than wait till morning. Had she stayed, she probably would've just felt more ignored than she already did, what with Mother Anne being sick and all.
Colleen refers to a particularly brutal winter in 1872. Mother Anne had been sick with pneumonia, and bed-ridden for over a week. Late one evening, she took a turn for the worse and began coughing up blood. It was feared she would not make it through the night, without immediate medical attention, but no one wanted to risk making her worse by exposing her to the freezing temperatures outside, to get her to the doctor. William was reluctant to leave his mother's side, should she take an even worse turn in his absence. Colleen, on the other hand, while worried over Mother Anne's health, was more terrified of encountering Angelus, though there had been no indication that he was anywhere near. Neither she, nor Eve had dared venture outside after dark since coming to the Walthrops', and Colleen was certain that this was the sole reason for their continued survival. She insisted on waiting until morning to make the ten-mile round trip into town.
Eve argued that Mother Anne likely wouldn't last that long, if someone didn't go for help, and volunteered herself to make the trip. Colleen attempted to downplay the seriousness of the illness, while countering that Eve would be helping no one if she didn't make it back. Eve brushed aside Colleen's fears, asserting that Angelus was likely dead already, since they'd seen no evidence to the contrary, and refused "to sit here like a coward while she (indicating Anne) passes before our eyes." With that, she fled into the night, and did not return. Eve tells what happened.
Fate's a funny thing. Bites you in the ass when you least expect it. The door was open when I got to Dr. Jaimeson's. I should've taken the hint and left, but I didn't come all that way just to turn around and leave empty handed. I told myself he'd probably just forgotten to lock the door. The wind must've blown it open. I wasn't very convincing, but I went in anyway. He was there. Angelus. He had him.
I probably could've got away. He didn't seem to hear me come in. But I was so shocked, seeing him there, of all places. At that moment. It was like he was waiting for me, just passing the time with Dr. Jaimeson, until I showed up. I think I must've gasped or done something that made him look up, 'cause it was all of a sudden, like. Our eyes locked, and for a while, neither of us moved. It was like we were both frozen in time.
Me, I was too scared to move. I knew as soon as I did, I was as good as dead. And I had nowhere to go anyway. Running back out the door would've meant turning my back on him, which was the last thing I wanted to do. He would've been on me before I even knew what was happening. My only other option was to run straight at him. But I don't see how that would've served any purpose than maybe surprise him for a minute. Then what? (shrugs) For his part, I think he was just waiting to see what I'd do. So was I, for that matter. But I couldn't move. Couldn't even bring myself to try to fight him. I just… (shakes her head).. gave up. I don't remember what happened after that.
Road to the Truth
I had my suspicions that she did remember, and that there was likely quite a lot more to her story than she was telling, but I didn't press it. Unfortunately, the only other person who knew what happened was currently rescuing a physicist from a hell dimension. When he returned, it was highly unlikely he'd be chomping at the bit to share stories from his killing days. Not once he got an earful of the news we had waiting for him. While Spike seemed eager to talk about anything at all to keep his mind off the present situation, anything so long as he didn't have to think about the dead girls in the living room, I knew Angel wouldn't be so easily distracted.
Angel had a tendency to dwell, or brood, if you prefer. That is, after moving through his version of the Five Stages of Grief. The first stage, of course, is Denial. Next comes Acceptance, and along with that, a hearty dose of Blaming Himself, followed closely by Blaming Everyone Else (including myself, and vampires named 'Spike'). Add in a healthy sprinkling of Violence throughout, and set to Broil. Getting Angel to talk about Eve, now, was going to be like trying to rope the wind, if the wind was a royally brassed off vampire with a soul, who'd just learned that the love of his life had been killed while he was in another world rescuing damsels in distress. Still, for the sake of Posterity, I was willing to give it a shot. If all else failed, I had an ample supply of Doxymal, and a strong set of shackles in my van.
Fledgling Frustrations
Willow and I made the trip to L.A. alone, leaving Sunnydale roughly an hour before sunset. She drove the van, while I rode in the back, safely hidden from the sun's harmful rays. Waiting for the sun to dip below the horizon, I marveled at the fact that just a few weeks before, such a thing was not even a consideration. I didn't miss the sun. I never spent much time in it, anyway. What I missed was the freedom. Before, if I had somewhere to be, it didn't matter what time of day it was, or whether it was indoors or out. I just went. Now, I had to keep a strict schedule, or plan my route more carefully, lest I become a crispy critter. Sometimes, I simply can't go, and have to relegate myself to observing from afar, unable to do anything about the events taking place. To say the least, it's an inconvenience.
We arrived at the Hyperion shortly after 9:00. Angel and Company wouldn't show up for another forty-five minutes. That's forty-five minutes of pacing, fidgeting, and raiding Angel's personal refrigerator for that barely potable swill he calls, "food". It's like drinking water, when what you really want is a nice, frothy cappuccino. Or like smoking rolling tobacco out of a pipe when all you want is a Marlboro. Not only is it completely unsatisfying, but it leaves you even more frustrated than you were when you started. By the time Team Angel arrived, I was ready to crawl out of my skin, and Willow was looking pretty darn tempting. I knew I should've brought a snack.
Drive-time Requests
As expected, Angel was less than thrilled to be talking about Eve, and more specifically, what he did to her, when I brought I up on the drive back to Sunnydale. He actually begged me not to discuss it. "Not now, Rowynne. Please?" Honestly, those words coming from his mouth is like music to my ears. Nonetheless, I took some pity on him, and agreed to his terms. His requests weren't unreasonable. As it was, discussing his past was already plenty difficult for him, particularly as it pertained to his days as Angelus. I saw no reason to make the ordeal more distressing than it had to be. I realize I haven't painted him in a very good light, thus far, but I don't hate him, hard as that may be to believe. It's true Angel and I have our issues, but that doesn't necessarily mean I want him to suffer needlessly (though who can deny he looks darn good doing it?). I don't do these interviews to hurt him.
Angel's first request, or demand, to be more accurate, was that any discussion of his past indiscretions be put on hold until after our Slayer was tucked snugly underground. Personally, I had wanted to wait, anyway. I only brought it up early to give him fair warning. It's not the sort of thing you just dump on a person. "Now that you're done burying your soul mate, let's talk about some people you killed." As Willow has been known to say, occasionally I am callous and strange, but I'm not that evil. Buffy's my friend, too.
Secondly, he insisted our conversation be held in private. He didn't want Buffy's friends having such intimate details of his past misdeeds. They already knew he was capable of, and had committed horrendous evils. That was enough. They didn't need specifics. I tended to agree. Having a general outline of his crimes was bad enough. For my money, I wished I didn't know even half of the things I knew about him. The Scoobies would no doubt be reading about it soon enough, no need to put Angel on the spot now, especially under the circumstances.
Ultimately, despite Angel's protests, it was decided we would all head over to Willy's afterward. Angel and I would find a nice quiet corner in the back somewhere, while the others blew off steam elsewhere in the bar. Why Willy's? As I explained to Angel, I had been cooped up with humans for days. I needed to get out. Everyone else was sure to be in need of a little of brainless fun as well, after completing the unpleasant task we would soon be undertaking. The Bronze was likely to be(and in fact was)closed by the time we finished, and even if it wasn't, the last thing I wanted to do, was to shut myself in with even more hot-blooded Americans, with their way too loudly beating hearts. Though I had managed to quell some of my anxiety earlier, thanks to Wesley, I still wasn't quite ready for that kind of pressure.
Close Encounters of the Weird Kind
We arrived at Willy's just after 2:00 a.m. Most of the bar's usual clientele had already retired to whatever hole in the ground they called home. Only the heartiest of demon partiers remained, and Willy was already making preparations to close up shop and call it a night. At the sight of the unlikely group of patrons entering his establishment, however, all looking tired and ragged, and as if they had cancer of the puppy, he quickly changed his tune, and happily accepted our business.
Kestryl, and my Aunt Trudi, who had also come to assist with the burial, led the group to a corner booth large enough to accommodate everyone, while Annie and Colleen headed to the bar to order drinks for everyone. (Eve had opted to leave immediately after our work was done.) I started to lead Angel to a back table where we could reminisce privately, but was assaulted from behind by a 500lb Chorago demon gripping me in a crushing bear-hug, and demanding to know why I never showed up for Card Night anymore.
Since moving to Sunnydale, just weeks before Buffy herself did, Kestryl and I had made it a point to mix in with the Underground, our rationale being that if you were living on a Hellmouth, it was good to have as many allies as possible, no matter what side of the court they played on. I had been taking part in "Bob's" (not his real name, which was likely some unpronounceable word with 29 consonants and an ampersand) weekly card games almost every Thursday, nearly from day one of my Sunnydale residency. With the bedlam of the past several months, however, playing cards with demons had taken a back seat. The last time I had pulled up a chair at Bob's table, was sometime before Riley disappeared into the jungle. Now he was demanding to know where I'd been, what I'd been doing, and whose skull did he have to bash in for making me a creature-of-the-night.
I explained to my large, scaly friend that it was just one of those things that sometimes happened and begged him not to make a big deal out of it. I told him I was only out to blow off some steam with my friends, and because I had some important matters to discuss with Angel. He agreed to give us our space, under the condition that I absolutely came out for "Spite and Malice" (one of our favorite card games) the following Thursday. I promised I would, and Angel and I finally sat down to wake up some sleeping dogs.
Regarding Eve
Before beginning my interrogation of Angel regarding Eve, I took out my hand-held tape-recorder that I had thought to bring along for the occasion. Until that moment, I had intended to merely quote Angel's narrative, as I have done in previous chapters. After his initial reaction to the recording device, however, I quickly decided that this would be another instance best served by transcribing the interview as it happened, complete with stage directions, and some personal observations.
Conversations With Dead People
Angel: (almost whining) A cassette recorder? Really, Rowynne? Do you have to?
Row: Is it that bad?
Angel: (considers) It's not that. It's just… awkward.
Row: Oh you wanna talk awkward? Awkward is letting you torture me for hours- days, while my sister helps, then still taking care of you while you were recovering from your vacation in Hell… You almost killed me then, too.
Angel: I am sorry. If I-
Row: (I really don't want to hear it) Whatever. We're not here to talk about me, we're here to talk about Eve. What did you do to her? (Angel cracks a slight smile) (angry) You think this is funny?
Angel: (becomes somber) Of course not. It's just… I never touched her. I swear.
Row: Bullshit.
Angel: Really. I never laid a hand on her. I mean, yeah, okay, I did, but not like- (stops, choosing his words) Not like you think. (emphatic) I didn't hurt Eve.
I found this very hard to believe, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt.
Row: What happened?
Angel: Well, I was… (takes an unnecessary breath) I was just about done with the doctor, and I thought I heard something, so I looked up. She's just standing there, watching me. I could smell the fear on her, like… (seems to be searching for an apt description, then realizes such explanations are no longer necessary)Well, I guess you know, now.
I nodded. I did know. For those who don't, it's a bit hard to describe. It can't really be compared to any smell a human might be accustomed to. For me, it's like when you walk past a place that sells cinnamon rolls. I'm not saying fear smells anything like cinnamon, but as a human, whenever I passed a place like that, even if I wasn't the least bit hungry, I had to go in and get a roll. Fear is like that. As this was not a Vampires Anonymous meeting, I kept this comparison to myself, and let him continue uninterrupted.
Angel: But she didn't move. She just stood there, like a statue, except I could see her breathing. I didn't move either; I was waiting to see what she was gonna do. I didn't even let go of the doctor. She looked like she was trying to work up a scream, but it wouldn't come out. Then… (shakes his head like he still can't figure it out).. nothing. She just went blank. There was no fear, no emotion of any kind. At first, I thought she'd died right then, but I could still hear her heart beating. Then she just dropped. Like she was paying homage. But she wasn't looking at me. She wasn't looking at anything. I didn't know what to do. I'd never seen anything like it. I just stood there for a minute trying to wrap my head around what just happened. When she didn't move, I let go of the doctor and walked up to her. I thought it was an act; I was going to force her hand. I slapped her and she didn't even flinch. She was just… gone.
Row: You're saying she went catatonic?
Angel: That's what I'm saying. You don't believe me?
I must admit that his story sounded eerily familiar, and for a moment, I wondered if maybe Kestryl, or someone else had had the opportunity to tell him about Buffy's little episode. A quick scan of thoughts, however, proved that was not the case. Yes, I can do that, and no, neither Angel, nor vampires in general, are immune. Surprising as it may sound, Angel lied to Buffy. In fact, he's actually known for it. Angel's a liar. The real reason Buffy had been unable to read his mind before, was that Angel has had a lot of experience in attempting to hide his thoughts, while Buffy had next to no experience in reading them. He never has been able to hide them from me, though, or the rest of the family, for any length of time. We eventually get through. This time it worked to his advantage; I knew he was telling the truth.
Row: Something must have happened to her, Angel. And I find it very hard to believe that you don't know. (Angel nods) So… (patiently as if to a child) what happened? What did you do? You didn't just leave her there? (more of a statement than a question)
Angel: (shakes his head) I scooped her up and took her home with me. (off my look) What? I couldn't just leave her there. It'd ruin my reputation. And what would be the point of killing her when she's like that? It would've been… empty.
Row: So… what? You were gonna nurse back to health, and then torture her mercilessly?
Angel's always been appropriately remorseful and ashamed when confronted on his past evils (except as it pertains to Wolfram & Hart's employees, of course), no matter how many times it gets thrown in his face. In our previous conversations, this shame was accompanied by an unwillingness to make eye-contact while admitting his guilt. This time, he met my gaze quite directly as he answered my question. Perhaps, because of my new state of being, he now felt he had nothing to hide from me. I was now no better or worse than he was. We were equals.
Angel: That was the plan.
Row: (sarcastically) That must've made Darla happy.
Angel: She was pretty pissed. She was annoyed with the amount of time I spent on Audra and Lex…
Again, I must interrupt to add my two cents. Angel's mention of Audra and Lex caused me to wonder, not for the first time that day, if vampires could vomit. There is nothing about that particular case that doesn't give me the urge to heave, or introduce Angel to a sharp piece of wood. To my credit, I held it in and let him finish his point. To his credit, he got to it quickly, without backing down like he normally would have.
Angel: …not that she witnessed any of that. But she had a pretty good idea. And she didn't like it. With Dru, she tolerated it, reluctantly. But I think that was the last straw with her. Dru was supposed to have been the last. When she wasn't… well, to say Darla was upset would be an understatement. We were arguing about what to do with her- Darla wanted to kill her outright- when Dru walked in. She thought I'd brought her a playmate. So we Dru have her. Take care of two problems at once.
Row: (I had to ask) Did you know who she was?
Angel: Not at first. Dru put it together for me.
Row: So you'd already decided what you were gonna do with her before you knew she was one of yours.
Angel: (shrugs)Basically.
Row: Yet you still gave Dru the honor. How generous.
Angel: (defensive?) Dru took care of her, so that I didn't have to. She was useless to me in that state-
Row: Careful, Angel. That's shaky ground you're treading on.
Angel: Look, I'm sorry if that's not what you wanna hear, but it's the truth. That is what you wanted, right? The truth? Well, here it is. I was going to kill Eve. Probably do a lot more than that. But not while she was in that fugue. I wanted her to feel it. I wanted her to see what was happening. I wanted her to scream. Without any of that, there was no point. I was willing to wait for her to come out of it, but I wanted nothing to do with her until she did.
A part of me hated Angel for being so cavalier about the whole thing. At the same time, I respected him for his honesty. He didn't try to sugar-coat the truth, or put himself in a better light. He told it like it was, and didn't apologize for it. Still, I was unaccustomed to such directness from him, and it caught me off guard. I didn't know what to say. He met my stare evenly, and matched it. I admit it. I was transfixed. Suddenly I knew exactly what Eve was talking about when she said that she and Angelus had been "frozen in time". To say the least, it was unsettling. I forced myself to look away and swallowed hard before asking my next question.
Row: So, what did Dru do to her?
Angel: Believe it or not, Dru took good care of her. She bathed her, dressed her, did her hair. She was like a life-sized doll.
Row: (scoffs) That can't have lasted long.
Angel: (nods) About three days. Then Dru got bored. Eve wasn't responding at all. We couldn't even get her to eat. So Dru got the bright idea of turning her. She thought she'd come of it if we made her a vampire. I told her no. I thought it was more likely that she'd just stay that way forever. But by the time Dru told us her plan, it was already done. So we figured we might as well wait and see what happened. Maybe Dru was right.
Row: And was she?
Angel: (makes a "Duh" face) Apparently. But we didn't know that at first. She was either late waking up, or else she was faking. We thought Dru had messed up somehow, that she'd killed her instead of turning her.
Options were discussed as to what to do with Eve. Obviously, they couldn't keep her there. Eventually, she would start to stink. They considered burying her, but that seemed like an awful lot of work. The possibility of simply leaving her there, and moving on was also discussed, but the fanged trio wasn't quite ready to leave London. Crime was quite rampant in the city during that time, with plenty of murders to go around. While Angelus and his women were responsible for a good deal of it, some of it was the work of your garden variety criminals. It was easy for them to go about their business undetected, and unhindered. Why spoil a good thing?
In the end, Angelus exercised his creative side, and took her back to Dr. Jaimeson's, where he had found her. He did his best to recreate the position he'd taken her in, but gravity had a little something to say about that. Rather than kneeling as she had been, he left her worshipping at the feet of some unseen deity, legs tucked beneath her, head bowed, arms straight out in front of her, locked in eternal prayer.