Chapter Twelve: Mirrors
"This no reflection thing really sucks," Buffy complained as she sat still, waiting for Cordelia to finish her last minute adjustments to the Slayer's currently long, dark, and curly hair.
"Tell me about it," Cordelia commiserated, before pointing out, "at the same time, it's weird enough knowing I'm Darla right now. I'm not sure I could handle seeing it."
"That's what we should do!" Buffy exclaimed, turning her head quickly and ignoring Cordy's grunt of frustration as the Slayer's quick movement caused the seer to pull a large chunk of hair out of place, instead of the small tendril she'd been trying for. "Take a picture of ourselves and then mail it to us in the future!"
As she fixed Buffy's hair, Cordy smiled to herself at the possibility. "Nah," she finally said. "Still too creepy. Plus, with all the wacky fun we had with Darla last year, not to mention Connor…"
"Yeah," the seated woman conceded, thinking also of the vampire waiting for her in Sunnydale. "A little too weird, I guess."
A polite rap on their bedroom door interrupted the two women's conversation and both looked back as Richard poked his head in the door.
"About ready to go?" he asked.
"Yup," Cordelia replied, adding one final pin to the mass of curls atop Buffy's head before stepping away from the other. "All done."
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"I'm glad you talked us into coming out tonight, Richard," Buffy said as the three sat on a small loveseat far off on one side of the room, surveying the party going on around them. Conversation and classical music floated around the trio, emphasizing the magical quality of the situation for the two time travelers. Buffy and Cordelia had agreed on keeping a low profile at the gathering, both to avoid affecting the timeline, and to discourage any of the other partygoers who might meet Darla or Dru in the future from being too friendly. While it was not the type of gathering either woman would normally seek out, they were enjoying watching the other guests mingle and listening to their conversations.
Across the room, a small commotion centered around a man who had moved up a step to place himself above the rest of the room, attracted the crowd's, and the loveseat's occupants', attention.
"Is that William?" Cordy asked, seeing the familiar man standing a step down from the center of the room's attention. "I didn't know he was coming."
"Oh dear," Richard said, obviously recognizing the situation. "He's gotten a hold of one of William's poems."
"Don't be shy," the man who stood above the rest of the crowd said condescendingly to William before beginning to read from a small piece of paper in front of him, pausing dramatically at the poem's line break.
"My heart expands, 'tis grown a bulge in it. Inspired, by your beauty, effulgent." He paused again before aiming his next comment directly at William. Although he only spoke one word, it was filled with faux-incredulity, patronization, and a hint of derision, and accompanied by a short laugh. The volume of his voice was obviously designed to carry to all occupants of the room, and not just the man in front of him. "Effulgent?"
The three watched on in sympathy as the crowd laughed, and William snatched back his poem, before following a dark-haired woman who'd hurriedly left the circle ridiculing the young man. As he walked away, another comment rose above the crowd and reached the onlookers' ears.
"Have you heard?" a woman asked, her pleasure at sharing gossip thickly apparent in her tone. "They call him William the Bloody because of his bloody awful poetry."
Buffy gasped, realizing that Spike's previous moniker came not from his early days as a vampire, but rather from the cruelty that could only be found when peers built themselves up at another's expense.
"It suits him," the man who had read William's verse aloud responded, directing his comment as much to the woman as the room at large. "I'd rather have a railroad spike through my head than listen to that awful stuff."
Buffy and Cordelia exchanged a look at the harsh comment, each remembering how Spike had come by his more commonly known name and realizing this man's comment could very well have inspired more than the laughter of his friends.
Buffy started to rise to follow William, but Richard's hand on her arm stopped her.
"That's Cecily," he explained, nodding to the woman William was following. "William's absolutely besotted with her, but she's too vain to allow herself to love him. Too concerned with petty things like money and what others think. She doesn't deserve William's love, although he refuses to see it. She'll break his heart, I'm afraid, but…"
"But it needs to happen for him to move on," Cordy finished sadly. She empathized with the position the young man was in, but also recognized the necessity of allowing Cecily the opportunity to make her true colors clear. William would be hurt for a while, but he was better off not mooning over someone who refused to return his affections.
"No," Buffy said in disbelief. "I don't believe it!"
Richard and Cordy followed her gaze into the next room where William and Cecily were sitting on a sofa, talking. While she could clearly see the pair, the young man and woman were far enough away that even Cordy's enhanced vampire hearing couldn't pick up what was being said.
Since she couldn't hear it, the seer knew neither could Buffy, prompting the woman to ask, "What?"
"That conniving, manipulative little bitch!" Buffy swore fiercely. Her eyes still on the couple, Buffy explained, "That's not Cecily. Her name's Halfrek. And she's a vengeance demon."
"Like Anya?" Cordy asked, confused.
"One of her old friends, actually," Buffy confirmed, her eyes never leaving William and the demon he was sitting with. "That explains a lot," she added, thinking of the brief suggestion that Spike and Hallie knew each other at her last, disastrous birthday party.
Rising from her seat, she muttered to the others, "I'm going to put a stop to this right now."
Before Buffy had gone two steps though, the woman the Slayer had set her sights on rose from the couch and quickly walked away. Buffy froze in her tracks at the absolute devastation on William's face. She'd seen that look once before – as she and Spike stood in his newly blown-up crypt. She'd told him she was using him and that it was killing her. Her final words to him on that day echoed softly in her head. Goodbye, William.
That bitch Halfrek had broken his heart!
Richard and Cordy watched in sympathy as William quickly left, his head down to hide the tears forming in his eyes. Before either of the two could act, Buffy had started moving again and was nearly to the door, following William through it. She paused on the house's front steps, scanning the street in both directions. Off to the left, she caught a glimpse of William's curly, sandy-brown hair disappearing into an alley.
When she reached the alley's entrance, she could see William about halfway down the passageway, sitting on a bail of hay. Torn scraps of paper littered the ground around his feet, and his shoulders shook slightly as the man's sorrow and grief escaped in gulping sobs.
"William?" Buffy asked softly as she walked slowly towards him.
His head lifted and she noticed how bright his eyes were from the tears he'd shed as his gaze met hers. He quickly looked away, ducking his head once more and wiping at his cheeks before replying quietly. "Please go. I wish to be alone."
Ignoring his request, the Slayer sat beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug and rocking slightly as he accepted the embrace and cried against her chest. Buffy felt her own tears finally spill as she held the man, hurting for him and wondering if her Spike had reacted the same way when she'd left him that day.
"I'm so sorry," she said.
"For what?" he asked, his voice muffled against her shoulder.
"I-" she paused, wanting to apologize for the abuse she'd heaped upon him in the past, especially during the last year, for the pain he was feeling now that he'd regained his soul, for not having been strong enough to not use him. But this wasn't the same man. This was William, and while a small part of her warned that she couldn't reveal such future details, a much larger part knew that the apology she needed to make couldn't be made to William. While he would one day become the Spike she shared such a volatile and complicated history with, William wasn't yet him. "I'm sorry you got hurt. I know you really liked Cecily," she finally settled on.
He pulled back a bit and looked her in the face, shaking his head sadly. "She's right, though. I am beneath her."
"What?" Buffy demanded in horror, more of her own guilt surfacing before firmly saying, "No! Don't ever believe that!"
"No, Buffy," William countered sadly, his voice devoid of hope, conveying only a sad understanding of an inescapable truth. "I haven't enough money or, or social standing."
"She's a fool," Buffy said. "They're all fools. You don't love someone more because they have money. And you don't need money to be wealthy. Your wealth lies here," she placed her fingertips over his heart briefly before moving to his left temple, realizing as she spoke that the words were not ones she would have chosen herself. They were coming from somewhere else, yet they felt…right. "And here."
When her fingers graced his brow, Buffy felt a jolt go through her and several memories surfaced at once, filling her with instinctive knowledge. She froze, staring at him for what seemed like an eternity, but in actuality could not have been more than three or four seconds, as the horrible truth sank in. When she finally spoke, she remained unmoving, but her voice was small and suffused with a quiet horror.
"Oh, God."
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Cordy watched Drusilla's retreating back as the Slayer inside the dark-haired beauty followed William out of the house. She was trying to decide whether to follow too when Richard's voice pulled her back to the couch they were sitting on.
"You know him." While the man's words could have been a question, Cordy had no doubt they were a statement of fact, not inquiry.
"Know who?" Cordy asked, pretending to be confused by the seemingly sudden change of topic.
"William. In the future, you know him."
The seer froze, denial rising to her lips, but she could see Richard had already worked the truth out for himself.
"Yes," she responded simply.
"He can't still be alive," Richard said slowly. "Not after one hundred and twenty two years. Is he . . ." the man trailed off, finding forming the words of his suspicion more difficult than he'd expected. He looked away for a moment before capturing and holding Cordy's gaze determinedly. "Is he a vampire?"
Cordy met his gaze unwaveringly, letting her silence speak for her. Finally, she said. "You can't tell him. It'll change too much."
"He's that significant in the course of the world?" Richard asked bitterly. "What, does he kill an evil dictator?"
"Not all demons are evil. And not all evil demons are evil all the time. This woman," Cordy pointed to Darla's body. "This vampire, Darla, was one of the evilest, meanest, most violent vampires. But in the end, she willingly sacrificed her life to save a child. And I work with another vampire. He was very, very evil for a really long time. And he enjoyed being evil. He relished in it. But now, he helps the hopeless. There's a prophecy that he'll be a major player in the End of Days, a key asset to the side he fights for. The prophecy's unclear, whether he'll fight for good or evil. But I know he'll be on our side, fighting the good fight. I trust him to make the right decisions. I trust him with my life. I trust him with his soul."
"Did you say his soul?" Richard asked incredulously, finding himself moved against his will by the blonde's impassioned words.
"It's a long story," Cordy said smiling gently. "As a matter of fact, I just found out he's not the only vampire with a soul . . ." she trailed off as a memory of Wesley explaining the prophesized future for the vampire with a soul surfaced. Cordelia could almost hear the click of the light bulb over her head turning on as she realized the implications of her memories.
"I have to go. I know how to get home." Turning to Richard, she leaned over and gave the man a quick hug. "Thank you, for everything. Remember, if you see either Buffy or me again, it won't be us. It will be Drusilla or Darla. Be careful."
Rising quickly, Cordelia left the party, tapping into Darla's sixth sense, hoping it would help her locate Buffy and, hopefully, William.
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She was still staring at William, but Buffy only saw the series of memories which had led her to this unthinkable, yet inescapable conclusion. He had to die; she had to kill him.
"Buffy," the familiar voice pulled her out of her thoughts and she found herself gazing into insightful blue eyes. "Are you alright?"
"I'm, I'm fine."
"No, you're not." William's eyes narrowed slightly as he responded, and he pulled a little farther away from Buffy. "You've figured out what you have to do to return home."
"Yes."
"And it involves me."
"Yes."
"You have to kill me. And make me like you."
Buffy's eyes grew wide and shock overcame her momentarily at his deduction. Before she could protest William's assertion, he continued.
"I lied before," he said. "About when your friend commandeered my body. While he was here, I was in his, in the future. I was blindfolded, and no one spoke to me, but I could still hear them talking. Most likely they were in the next room, but I could still hear them. They thought I would be vicious and violent, dangerous. How could they know what to expect unless they knew whose body they were sending your friend Spike to?"
"William," Buffy started, wanting to deny the truth, but unable to quite bring herself to do so.
"The more I thought about it," he cut her off, "the more times I came to the same conclusion. There's only one way this all makes sense. They thought they were trading your friend Spike with an earlier version of himself. And they did, just not the version they thought they'd get. He's me, or rather, I'm him, right?"
Buffy simply held his gaze, giving no other response for a long moment. Finally she nodded. "Right."
"But he's your friend, isn't he?" William asked. "How can that be? How can you be friends with someone who's…"
"He's not," Buffy said. "Not anymore." She took in a deep breath before continuing. "He's… he helps. And he is my friend."
"Right then," William said decisively. "Let's do this."
Buffy just stared at the man before her, tears slowly forming in her eyes. Finally, when she spoke, her voice was soft, yet firm. "I can't ask that of you. It's not fair."
"You're not asking me," he replied, his face remaining firm, although Buffy detected an increase in the rate of his heartbeat, indicating he was not as confident in his resolve as he appeared. "I'm offering."
"You don't know," she said, reaching a hand out to lightly brush his cheek. "You can't know what you're asking. Who am I to decide your destiny?"
"But I'm good, right?" William asked her, his naïve belief in her and the man she described him becoming outshining the uncertainty in his eyes. "I mean eventually, I help."
"Yeah," Buffy agreed slowly. "Eventually. But before that . . ." she trailed off, looking away from his intense gaze before making up her mind. There had to be another way. "Look, William, you have to give your life, your soul, to do this, and it's not fair to ask that of you."
"Life's not fair, Buffy," he interrupted her, sounding far wiser and older than she'd heard the young man sound in her short acquaintance with him. "I know that, and so do you. Richard told me last night about the slayers. That you fight the forces of darkness. And that you die young. Always."
"Yes," Buffy agreed.
"If you can do it, so can I. And," William's voice faltered before he regained control of his emotions. "And, my life here, it's, it's ordinary at best. I'll never be anything special or spectacular. But maybe I can make a difference some day. Even if I have to sell my soul to do it."
Sorrow washed over Buffy as she saw all that William could have become had his life not been cut short. At the same time, she knew those dreams and possibilities were not meant to be realized, not without changing the future. And that was a risk Buffy knew she couldn't take, no matter how much she wanted to.
Buffy nodded slowly, a feeling of déjà vu engulfing her as she once again found herself on the verge of killing an innocent soul to save the world she knew. The decision made, a strange clam washed over the Slayer. She knew with a certainty she couldn't explain that this was the right path, regardless of how much she wished it weren't. She would kill – not because she could, but because she had to. She would take and then give life, create a monster, so that she might one day again meet the man before her.
"I'm proud of you, William" she whispered. Then, she heard herself ask him to close his eyes. He complied, and Buffy leaned close, kissing him softly, before pulling back and allowing the bones in Drusilla's face to shift, bringing the demon to the forefront. William remained sitting, and the calm on his features as he patiently waited, his eyes still obediently closed, was almost Buffy's undoing. Screwing up her courage, she leaned into the left side of his neck, whispering one final message before sinking her fangs into his neck.
"I'm so sorry."
To be completed in: "Chapter Thirteen: Coming Home"
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A/N: We're so entering the home stretch here, gang! Everything should get wrapped up in the next (and last!) chapter; how exciting is that? Big thanks go to everyone who reviewed and/or e-mailed me about this latest chapter: Rachel, Karen Daltry, BabEe TiG3r, Annie, Timeends, Lora Darcy, Vette, Zana, and Justin. I must admit, I entertain myself a great deal with my writing. But, it's still fabulously wonderful to know that I'm not the only one who's entertained.
Also, in the fine tradition that is shameless self promotion, let me mention that I posted a story in the "Angel" section of ff.net a couple of days ago that's an alternate (happier) ending to this week's "Soulless." And, as an added bonus, it's complete in one part. If you like this story, I'm betting you'll like it. Plus, I'm rather proud of it. It's called "Sweet Peripeteia"; give it a go.