Chapter 7

"Wait, wait, wait. Buffy tried to raise the dead?" Xander demanded. "Why? How? Why?"

"She wanted to bring Spike back," Willow repeated for the fifth time.

"But, it's Spike," Xander protested. "I mean, just Spike."

Angel and Willow looked at each other. Was he always this clueless?

"She loved him," Willow reminded her friend gently. "Still does, I guess."

"Well, I know she was sad when he died, but I didn't think…"

"How deep in denial are you?" Angel asked.

Xander shook his head. "So, let me get this straight. She gets it in her mind to bring Spike back, and somehow, ends up with William?"

"Pretty much," Angel answered.

"What's she going to do now?"

"Take care of him, by the sounds of it. She insisted on bringing him home with her, and took full responsibility for him. She won't even let me help," he explained.

"Why hasn't she told any of us?"

"I don't know," Willow answered. "I called her and gave her a chance to tell me, but she acted as though nothing was wrong."

"Maybe nothing is wrong," Wesley suggested.

"No," Willow contradicted, "This is the definition of wrong. A dead man pulled 120 years in the future? Wrong. Do you have idea what could happen?"

"No."

Willow sighed. "Like I told Buffy, there are always consequences. Period. I can't even imagine how this could have disrupted the timeline…"

"It didn't," Wesley answered. "I…interrogated…Dorjan until he told me exactly what happened. Somehow, he managed to clone the body, and pull the double into the future."

"God," Willow breathed. "That is extremely heavy, dark magic. Forces that I can't even…Are you sure he's safe?"

"He's been taken care of. We won't need to worry about his further involvement."

"What do you want us to do, Will?" Xander asked.

"I don't know yet. I'm going to have to do some research, call the Coven in England and see if his magic has disrupted anything. I'm going to have to meet William and read his aura…then, well, I'll know what we have to do."

"What are some possibilities?" Angel asked.

She shrugged. "It depends on what we find. It's possible we won't have to do anything at all. It's possible that if there is a problem, it'll correct itself on its own. Or it's possible that we'll have to step in and…remove the problem ourselves." 

~*~

After Willow called, Buffy's good mood was ruined. William didn't push her, but was disconcerted by her silence. He didn't know what to do with himself. Was he welcome in the kitchen and front room with her, or would it be better for him to take his leave? He found himself at a complete loss, ignorant of what etiquette dictated in such a situation.

It didn't matter though. He doubted he had the ability to walk the short distance from the table to his bed. It wasn't exactly a lie when he told Buffy he felt better. At the time, he had been feeling better. Though, tripping on the sheet was a falsehood. He didn't trip at all, just lost his ability to stand for more than a few seconds. But it was far too embarrassing to admit that he had practically fainted. Somehow, being a "spaz" as she called it seemed not so bad.

He watched her wash the dishes. She was muttering curses under her breath directed to what he could only assume was the strange, ringing machine. She looked angry, and it took William's breath away. She moved and acted as though he wasn't in the same room, her face flushed, her eyes bright and darting about the room, her hands working animatedly.

"Aren't I allowed to make mistakes?" She demanded suddenly.

"Um, well…"

She didn't wait for an answer, instead, plunged ahead into her rant. "I know what they're doing. Does she think I don't know? Are they the only ones allowed to make mistakes? Are they the only ones allowed to mess up? What? I'm supposed to be perfect?"

"No," he offered softly.

"What gets me is that they had to find out somehow. Which means Angel has been talking. So much for his promises huh? I should have known better by now. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me two million times, shame on me." She sighed. "I don't know. Maybe I'm over-reacting."

William remained silent, unable to think of a way to respond. She didn't appear to notice.

"Do you want some ice cream?" She asked, finally focusing all of her attention onto him.

"Yes, that sounds delightful."

"Well, you can have Dawn's. That's what she gets for having a life."

William frowned, not knowing what to make of that comment. She handed him a small, colorful container and a spoon. "Dig in."

The first bite was surprisingly cold and painfully sweet. But delicious. "What is this?"

"Double chocolate chip fudge. Too sweet for me, but Dawn loves it."

"It's…something else. I don't think I've ever had anything like this before."

She laughed and took a bite from her own carton. "Oh good, I'll get to introduce you to the joys of ice cream. Don't let them fool you, there are more than 31 flavors."

"I'm looking forward to it." Around another bite of ice cream. He dug in merrily, thrilled over the taste and texture and temperature and the way it glided down his throat.

Buffy watched him with a smile. Her own dessert tasted better after watching him. Come to think of it, dinner tasted better too. But after a few minutes of heartily stuffing his face, she grew somewhat alarmed.

"Um, William, you better slow down, or you're going to get…."

"Ohhhhh, my head."

"A headache."

"What just happened? Oh, this is awful."

She nodded sympathetically. "It's a brain freeze. Give it a few minutes, and you'll feel better. But you have to put away the ice cream."


He winced and handed over his ice cream begrudgingly.  He closed his eyes and allowed a few moments to pass while she put the melting dessert away and finished tidying up the kitchen.

"Are you ok?" He asked without opening his eyes.

"Me? I'm not the one with the splitting headache."

"You seemed upset earlier," he explained.

"Right, well, it was nothing a little ice cream couldn't fix. See? All better now." She plastered a very large, very fake smile on her face.

"If you don't want to tell me, I understand."

"No, no, it's not that. I mean, it's not that I don't want to tell you, it's just that I…"

"Can't?"

"Don't know how. I figured I'd introduce you to my life slowly…things can be a bit crazy around here."

"I can handle it," William insisted.

She laughed bitterly. "That's what they all say."

"Is there anything left that can surprise me?"

Before Buffy could answer, William silently clutched his head then fell off of the chair.

Buffy rushed to his side. "William?" She turned him over onto his back, alarmed at the waxen color of his skin. "Oh god, what's wrong?"

She calmly felt for a bump on his head, looking for blood, called his name, did everything she could think to do in the case of a head injury. She couldn't find anything physically wrong.

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open. "What happened?"

"You fainted. William, has this happened before?"

He nodded slightly. "Earlier today, when I fell…"

"Any other time?"

"While I was working, I fell asleep a few times."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't wish to alarm you. I'm sure it's nothing."

"It's not nothing if you keep passing out. How else do you feel?"

"Fine."

"Fine?"

He nodded. "I can assure you that other than the odd fainting spell, I'm fine."

"Do you feel light headed?"

"Well, yes," he admitted, "but not all the time."

Buffy worried her bottom lip, trying to figure out what to do next. Her intial reaction was to call Angel again, and get a hold of Dr. Roberts, but after the phone call from Willow, she didn't know how much she could trust him. She could just take him to the clinic, but how would she explain the large bit on his neck…that was currently bleeding all over the floor.

"Shit," she muttered. "Shit, shit, shit. You're bleeding again." She grabbed a kitchen towel, and held it against his neck, applying as much pressure as she could to stop the bleeding.

"I'll have to call Wesley," she finally said when the bleeding and all but ceased. "At least he won't be all judgmental…"

~*~

Willow couldn't help feeling resentful. She wasn't just the magic girl anymore. She wasn't The Big Gun anymore. She wasn't the geeky girl who squealed over research parties. Buffy wasn't the only one who had found a new place in life, a new reason for living.

Her whole life it seemed she had been looking for something great, and now she just wanted something normal. Something quiet. A small apartment, a small college, a warm lover to come home to every night. It wasn't so much to ask for, and the strong, aching hold of magic was lessening each day. She could feel it slip away from her, and she didn't fight it.

When she stood at the crossroads of her new life the year before, she honestly believed she would always be in the business of saving the world. Kennedy was a Slayer; there was a whole world of slayers waiting for guidance. All she had to do was find them. But then she decided to take a year off to finish school, and before she knew it, she was caught up in the whirlwind of mundane normalcy.

But the misery of it was that it never slipped away. The magic, the geek, the research, the old life, it was all there, calling to her. She could repress and deny, but at her heart, she couldn't resist the thrilling call of the fight, the kill. She hadn't been born with the instinct, but she had created one and nurtured it until it matched Kennedy's ferocity.

And so the resentment festered, because it was hard to deny it when she was on the hunt. She stacked the dusty tomes in front of her, armed herself with her favorite pens and highlighters, and had her bag of chips resting next to the Diet Coke comfortably. She was finished with school, had a vacation stretching ahead of her, and a mystery to solve. The smell of musty leather was heady and intoxicating, the allure of faded ink undeniable.

Beneath the festering resentment and the general excitement was inexplicable hurt. Buffy had attempted to raise the dead, even after she was explicitly warned not to. Did Buffy think so little of Willow now that she could just blithely ignore her warnings? It's true that they had slowly been growing apart, but she thought there was always a level of respect between the two of them. Enough respect that when Willow said "don't do this incredibly dangerous thing," Buffy would listen.

But then, it's true that Buffy never listened to anybody. Buffy considered herself the big Boss, and though she was no longer the slayer, some things never change. Apparently, she considered herself the boss over the mystical domain as well.

~*~

When Wes showed up at Buffy's apartment, he didn't bother to ask why she called him and not Angel. He just accepted that Buffy didn't want to get into a fight with her ex-lover and asked her what the problem was.

She silently led him to William, sleeping on the bed, breathing shallowly.

"How long has been bleeding?"

"About 45 minutes. It was worse before I called you."

"Any other problems?"

"He said he's been feeling light headed, and fainted a few times."

Wesley carefully moved the bandage on William's neck and examined the wound. He was surprised. If anything it looked worse than before. "This isn't right," he murmured beneath his breath.

"Does he need a doctor?"

"I don't know if a doctor will be able to help him," he answered honestly. "The bite isn't infected, it just isn't healing."

"Why not?" Buffy demanded.

"I don't know, Buffy. It could be that William is anemic; it could be because the magic destroyed the make-up of his body, it could simply be the magic itself won't let him heal. Working with those types of forces is hardly full-proof."

"So what are you telling me? That he's just going to get worse?"

"Possibly."

"You don't know anyone who could help him?"

Wes could see that Buffy was growing desperate. Desperate to save William? Perhaps because she couldn't save Spike. Or maybe because she felt that his life was her responsibility. Or maybe it was just the natural Slayer instinct that made her strive to protect the world, and its people, and at all costs. At any rate, Wes didn't want to disappoint her. There was still a feeling of failure where the Slayers were concerned. He had messed up and lost them both, and though he understood what happened wasn't his fault, he couldn't help but feel responsible. Maybe be helping her, he could redeem himself as a Watcher—even if there was nobody left alive to care anymore.

"I may know someone. I have to do some research, call a few people…"

"Will you, please?"

He nodded. "I'll keep you updated. In the meantime, keep his neck clean and covered, make sure he gets enough food and stays hydrated. Don't let him out of bed."

"Ok."

Wes turned to leave the room, but Buffy grabbed his arm. "Don't tell Angel, k?"

"Any reason why not?"

Buffy shrugged in response.

"Buffy, you need to know that they all know about William. Including Xander."

She nodded, "I figured as much when Willow called. Angel told them?"

"Yes."

"They're angry now?"

"Yes."

"Of course they are. Buffy isn't allowed to make mistakes. Ever."

He smiled apologetically. "Sorry."

"I guess I'll deal with them soon. Try to explain everything to them…"

Wes could tell she wasn't excited about the prospect. Honestly, he wouldn't be either.

"Call me if anything changes."

"Will do."

Buffy showed Wes out, then finished cleaning up the kitchen, and mopped the blood off the floor. Fear was a hard lump in the pit of her stomach. She didn't want him to die, she didn't want him to be sick, she didn't want to be part of this mess. Why couldn't everybody just be healthy and happy?

That night, she tried to sleep but she couldn't. All she could think about was Spike sending her away, William bleeding in her bedroom, and the fear that she was about to lose someone who was quickly becoming a dear friend.