Rating: Still going with PG, although it's a pretty tame PG, at that
Feedback: Thank you kindly. Melpomenethalia@aol.com
Spoilers: Through season five's "The Gift"
Distribution: Here and eventually the Warren. If you're interested, please let me know.
Summary: Buffy jumped through the portal and died. But what happened to her next?
Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed the story. I actually have most of it already finished; it's just waiting to be put up. I know the last few chapters were a little short, but this one is a little longer.
Disclaimer: All characters are owned by Mutant Enemy (Joss Whedon), a wonderfully creative company whose characters I have borrowed for a completely profit-free flight of fancy. Kindly do not sue me, please, as I am terrified of you. Thank you.
Part 11William sighed quietly and got up from the table, sitting down on the sofa once more and looking out at the countryside. An expression of sadness crossed his face, and for a moment, Buffy could have kicked herself for causing it.
"You know, I never saw this place when I was alive," William said quietly. "It's rather a collection of all the lovely country manors that I'd read about in Dickens and Bronte and all the rest of them. When the real world became too much for me, I'd retreat here in my mind. When I came to this reality, I sort of took this place with me. It felt like home to me. And I needed that quite desperately for a very long time. Something, anything, comforting to hold on to."
Buffy didn't remember walking over to the couch and sitting down next to William. She merely found herself quietly resting next to him on the deep green leather, her own eyes staring at the sun-dappled moors beyond, watching the passing breeze making ripples in the tufts of long grass.
"It was… bad for you, afterwards, wasn't it. I mean, Dru mentioned that you had a stronger connection to yourself than she or Darla do now."
The soul nodded. "Yes, quite terrible. I did what I could to control the demon, reign it in so to speak, but, well, there was only so much I could do. It was… agonizing." He shuddered. "But at least I kept Spike from ever siring anyone else. He's never put anyone else here, made them go through what we've been through. It's not much, but it's something."
A gentle hand rested on his shoulder for a moment before just as quickly pulling back. There was no reason to make this more complicated than it already was, Buffy reminded herself. William quivered imperceptibly from her touch, but forced himself to remain looking out the window.
"So… more soul was left inside Spike, right?" Buffy asked abruptly in an effort to break the silence.
"Not to begin with, no. About the same amount as Drusilla, really, though the strobe-light effect, as you called it, didn't occur. But over time, the demon began to display some unusual characteristics, and, oddly, it began to… well, for lack of a better term, the soul remnants began to grow. The other Drusilla, the vampire, could see it happening, and it puzzled her. Puzzled us too, truth to tell. Spike was capable of loving her with a devotion and depth that simply isn't normal in a vampire. Certainly Darla and Angelus never felt it for each other. Liam had a few theories about that, mainly that he hadn't been able to feel love like that for any of the women he'd been… with," William's face turned a rosy shade at the word, "and neither had Darla, while Dru had more of a capacity for it, though she never had the chance to use it, and, of course, there was the problem of her mind. I actually did care for someone before I died, though the feelings turned out to be sadly misplaced. He thought maybe that ability stayed with Spike to some extent."
Buffy's face puckered in confusion. "Who's Liam?"
"Ehm… that would be Angel. His human name was Liam," William explained with embarassment.
"Wait… so, you and Angel's soul used to hang out together?" Buffy asked in confusion.
"Well, yes, in a manner of speaking. He came here when he was first turned, although, rather like Darla, his version of Limbo was slightly less pristine. The ability to create comfortable surroundings seems to be linked to just where the rest of the soul would have gone after death. The second time he came back, though, he was on the same level here with Dru and me." William hesitated for a moment before adding, "He was always talking about you. How much he missed you, how terrible he felt for what you were going through, how… much he loved you…" his voice drifted away.
A tear rolled down Buffy's cheek at the thought of her old love. No matter how much time or space separated them, they would always have a bond.
"Oh, drat, now I've gone and made you cry," William said in a tone that made it clear he was annoyed with himself. "That was the last thing I wanted to do. As if you haven't been through enough already!"
"It's okay, William. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm glad he had you two when he was here. I'm guessing… it probably wasn't an easy time for him, either."
William decided it would probably be better not to mention that Angel had spent those months nearly catatonic with grief and remorse, especially following the Jenny incident.
"Yes, well, he's quite an extrordinary fellow," William replied. "He's heard about what happened to you, by the way. He's arriving in Sunnydale tomorrow for the, ehm, arrangements."
Buffy took in this new piece of information slowly. Arrangements. That meant a funeral. Specifically, her funeral. All at once, she felt incredibly tired and drained. "Do I still need to sleep?" she asked in a voice that lay bear everything she'd been through in the last few years.
"Not exactly. We can go for ages without it, but sometimes, when the spirit gets weary because of strain or worry, yes, we can sleep. It's quite common amongst new arrivals. Would you care to retire for a bit, Buffy? Remember, you can recreate your own bedroom down to the smallest detail, if you wish, or any other place you choose. You can have a bed of soft, lily-scented clouds bathed in the colors of the sunset, or you can lay down on top of the sea, rocked to sleep by the waves, or maybe you'd simply like to be suspended in mid-air."
Buffy wrinkled her nose a bit at the last suggestion. "I think I've had enough of being suspended in mid-air for one day," she explained with a wry grin.
"Yes, yes I suppose you would have," William chuckled. "Drusilla usually retires to a quaint little garden edged in roses and lilacs for a nap in a hammock. I'm certain she'd let you borrow it, if you wish."
Buffy smiled sleepily, amused by the idea that she was half-considering using Drusilla's bedroom. One whole heck of a lot had changed. "If it's alright with you, I think I'd rather just curl up in front of the fireplace in here. It's cozy."
William smiled at her warmly, more than a little proud that she'd chosen his own favorite spot for her rest. "That's perfectly fine."
Slowly, so as not to disturb her with suddenness, a large, comfortable, down-filled pillow with a pale pink velvet case faded into existence on the floor next to the fire, along with a soft, warm counterpane of deep pink satin. The fire continued to crackle away quietly, though the light it shed dimmed, leaving the room lit only by a soft glow.
"I'll just leave you to your rest. Sleep well, Buffy," William said softly as he began to leave.
Buffy's eyes shot wide open for a moment. "I know this is kind of a lot to ask, but, could you do me a favor?"
"Of course."
"Would you mind not going? It's just… I'm afraid I'm going to wake up alone in a coffin or something," she mumbled in embarassment.
"What a dreadful thought! There's nothing at all for you to be afraid of here. I assure you, you're perfectly safe and sound," he explained in concern. The poor dear has had so many ordeals in her young life that even here she feels threatened, he thought.
"I know. But, well, would you stay anyway? At least until I fall asleep?" Buffy asked, feeling rather childish.
Despite the panic attack the thought gave William's Victorian sensibilities, he turned around and sat back down on the couch. "If it will make you feel more comfortable, of course I shall stay with you."
"Thanks," she said gratefully. Then she climbed under the blanket, settled her head on the soft pillow, and turned towards the fire. On a sudden whim, she brought one last thing into being to make everything perfect.
William watched her as the firelight made soft shadows and patches of brightness on her face and hair above the pink satin. Eventually, he knew she had fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep. Time continued to pass, and after a while, William quietly crossed the floor to her to take one more close look at her face by the firelight. He couldn't help grinning merrily at what he saw. There, clutched tightly in the arms of the fiercest Slayer in four centuries, was a pink plush piggy.
"We'll both look after her. Right, Mr. Gordo?" William whispered to the stuffed animal.
Whether it was the firelight or not he couldn't be sure, but it certainly looked as though Mr. Gordo winked at him.