Chapter 17

William woke up in a pool of his own vomit and blood. Every single inch of his body ached, and it hurt to breathe. It even hurt to blink. But the physical pain paled in comparison to what he felt, before when it was there.

He felt the demon.

He felt the rage.

He felt like he had come home, and he remembered everything that had happened in the past 140 years. Then it was all gone, even the memories, and all he had left was the disconcerting sensation that he was missing something important, something he had before but was now destroyed forever, and a deep, abiding, tragic sense of loss. 

And he just couldn't move. He was alone in the old building, all of the vampires dead or ran away. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the sun peak through a boarded up window. For now, he was safe.

William knew that he wasn't going to die. Not anymore, not there in the abandoned building. But he wasn't going to live either if he couldn't get out of there and find help. Shaking, his stomach rolling, he pushed himself to his knees. He held perfectly still as the world spun and tilted around him. When it finally steadied, he moved his knees one inch, and then another. He couldn't look up, he had to keep his head down and eyes focused on the floor.

His progress was slow and painstaking, each second stretching into a minute, each minute into an hour. He set a goal for himself, simply trying to follow the track of light that moved slowly across the floor. He had to pause often to catch his breath, and more than once, his legs gave out and he collapsed completely. Each time that happened, it took him longer and longer to get up.

The fifth time William collapsed, he just didn't have the strength to get up again. He lay there, watching the dust motes dance in front of his eyes, and realized it was vampire dust. Somehow, the thought made him sick. His body wrenched weakly, but there was nothing left in his stomach, not even water.

After he dry heaved, he couldn't even keep his eyes open. Maybe I really am going to die here like this, he thought, sad but resigned, maybe this really is how it's meant to end. Was Buffy looking for him? If she were, would she find him in this building? He wasn't even sure he was still in LA. He wasn't even sure he wanted her to find him like this. William closed his eyes—just to rest—and passed out instead.

~*~

"What did Spike tell you?" Giles asked when she was finally ready to speak. When they had pulled her from the ether, she was shaking and terrified. She kept muttering that she was lost and Spike was lost and William was lost and everybody was lost.

"He said that he's looking for his soul. He needs it back."

"And William has it?"

"Right. He said that he can't be him without it. I asked him what he wanted me to do."

"What did he say?"

"He said I didn't have to resurrect him, I could let him go back to Heaven. But he also said that William doesn't have to die."

"Did he expand on that?" Angel asked.

"No, he had to go."

"Had to go where?"

Buffy shrugged. "He just said that he had to go or else things will get 'very bloody complicated.'"

"What are we going to do now?" Dawn asked.

"We're going to look for William."

~*~

William didn't wake up again until after dark. Not even a bit of light filtered into the building, and he was completely disoriented. He vaguely recalled the layout of the room, and thought it was possible that if he kept moving in a straight line, he would find the door at some point.

It was worth a shot anyway. It wasn't like he had any other options. He had no idea if, or when, vampires would return, and he had to keep moving. He pulled himself back to his hands and knees and resumed his painstaking journey.

As he crawled, he thought of his new life, with Buffy, with Dawn. The past few months had been the happiest he had ever known, and for the first time in his life, he felt like he had a chance of fitting in somewhere.

But at the same time, he felt as though he would always be second best to them, and he didn't want his girls to have to settle. If he thought he could fill the void that Spike had left, take care of them, make them happy, he would remain by their side for eternity. And he wanted that so badly.

He crawled across the floor slowly, sometimes dragging himself by his fingernails. The pain in his body had not reduced, the sense of loss had not diminished, his strength had barely returned. And yet he crawled on, over the dirt and the garbage, the dust and the occasional body.

When he was just about to pass out again, he saw it. A hint of light, peeking from under the door. The door. He had made it across the room, and he could get out. If he could get out, he could find help. The only problem was that he couldn't reach the door knob, and the door was shut tight.

A small, dry sob wracked his body, and the little bit of determination and hope that had been sustaining withered and died. He couldn't get out. They would never think to find him there, and he couldn't get out. William fell on the floor, and stretched out. He let the tension drain from his muscles and felt his body go limp.

For a long time, he didn't move, just laid there, counting his breaths. He didn't fall asleep or faint again, but he might as well have, because he didn't stir at all. Finally, when he felt that he had composed himself and got his frantic, desperate feelings under control, he returned to his hands and knees. He steadied himself, then pushed himself up until he was on his knees, his hands free to turn the knob.

He grasped it, and pulled down with his body weight. The knob turned, and due to his body weight, the door swung open, letting in a gust of fresh air. William, now flat on his stomach, inhaled it deeply, happy to clear his nose and lungs of the stale dead air.

The door opened out to an ally; a dark, garbage strewn ally. There was not a car or another person in sight, but William felt invigorated by the fresh air. If he could make it down the ally to the street, he might be able to flag somebody down. At this point, he was gasping for breath, sucking air into his lungs as hard as he could. He felt like he had just run a marathon at top speed.

He collapsed again.

~*~

"Buffy, we searched this area," Angel said patiently.

"So we'll search it again."

"If we didn't see him before…"

"Somebody could have dropped him off here, or he could have wondered over here. It doesn't hurt to look, Angel."

"Unless we're wasting time that we could be using to search other parts of the city."

"Angel, could you trust me, please? I have a feeling."

Angel shrugged, "I trust you Buffy."

He drove the car up and down the city blocks, occasionally cutting through allies if they looked suspicious, or were wide enough for his car. So far, they had found nothing. Not even a hint of him. Buffy was doing the best she could to keep her growing panic at bay, but with every passing hour, she lost hope.

It had nearly been 48 hours since he left. 48 hours in which he could have been attacked by vampires, demons, or humans. 48 hours in which he could have passed out from blood loss or hunger. He could have been hit by a truck and…her mind just kept coming up with more and more awful scenarios. She was a Slayer, she knew first hand the type of horrible things that could happen to him.

"Go down that ally," she said suddenly.

"What?"

She jerked the steering wheel to the right, "Turn."

"What? What did you see?"

"Just stop."

Buffy jumped out of the car before Angel had eve pulled to a full stop. She ran towards the huddled mass of blood and white skin at the end, calling his name. The closer she got, the louder she called. Her insistent voice roused him from his sleep.

"Buffy?" He croaked.

She stopped short, horrified by the image before her. William was naked, and bleeding everywhere. He had horrible bites all over his body, and she could see the gaunt outline of his bones under his too-white skin. She fell to her knees in front of him. "William, William, what happened?"

How did he survive an obvious attack from a whole nest of vampires? How did he manage to get out of the building? Where did his clothes go? Why was he, upon closer inspection, covered in vampire dust?

"Angel!"

Angel took off his coat and covered William, who had started shaking and shivering from the cold.

"He shouldn't be alive," he muttered.

"Hospital?"

"I'll take him back to the firm. Dr. Roberts should be able to take care of him."

Buffy gently wiped the blood off of his face and mouth, avoiding the wound on his cheek. With the blood gone, she could see the bruises. He'll never heal from this. He couldn't even get over one bite, how will he survive dozens.

"William? Can you speak?"

"Him," he muttered. "I felt him. Inside of me."

"Felt who, William?"

"It hurts, Buffy."

"I know, I know. We're going to get help now, ok?"

Angel bent and lifted William off the ground, grimacing at the rich smell of blood and death that hung around him. And there was another smell…more of a trace, or a signature. Angel couldn't put his finger on it, but it tickled his memory.

Buffy sat in the back seat of the car, and Angel carefully placed William in the back with her, resting his head on her leg. Buffy stroked his hair and spoke in a low, soothing voice, making promises she didn't know if she could keep. As she spoke, she ran her hands down his arms and legs and across his ribs, looking for a sign of a break or a fracture. He didn't appear to have any internal injuries.

Angel kept glancing at the two in the back, horrified by William's condition. He shouldn't be alive, and that was it. Angel had killed enough people, maimed, murdered, bled, and tortured enough people to know how much a body can take before it expired. And William should be expired.

"Buffy, how is his breathing?"

"Fine."

"His heartbeat is slowing."

"Well then drive faster!" She looked down at him. "Stay with me, ok William? We're going to take care of you, I promise, you'll get better."

William didn't give any indication that he heard her at all.

~*~

Thirty minutes later, William was safely installed in a hospital bed, blood pumping in his body, and a whole host of healing and protection spells around him. Buffy and Angel were in his office, waiting for the rest of the gang to show up. Buffy refused to leave the building.

"It's Spike," Angel announced, breaking the silence.

"What's Spike?"

"The smell on William."

"William smelled like Spike? Huh?'

"Everybody has a signature…it's a type of smell, but it's hard to explain. Anyway, William has a trace of Spike…"

"Well, that's hardly surprising is it? Spike started as William, after all."

Angel shook his head. "No, no everybody is unique."

"Why would William smell like Spike?"

"How could William survive that much damage and escape?"

"I…I don't know."

"Spike said he had to go," Angel reminded her.

"Maybe we can ask William, though he did say…"

"What?"

"William said he could feel him inside."

"You think he means Spike?"

"I don't know what to think anymore." 

~*~

"You can't go in there, Ms. Summers."

"You can't stop me."

" He needs to rest."

"I don't plan on waking him. I just want to be there in case he wakes up."

Dr. Roberts glance helplessly at Angel, who shrugged in return. "I suggest you just do what she says."

With a sigh, Dr. Roberts opened the door and allowed Buffy to enter. Angel followed her inside. She grabbed a chair and pulled it over to the bed, and settled in.

"How long you plan on staying here?"

"Until he wakes up."

"That could be awhile."

"I'll wait. I should be here when he wakes up."

The wait wasn't as long as she expected. He opened his eyes within the hour, he blue dimmed and dull.

"Hey there," she said softly.

He looked at her and smiled as much as he could. It looked more like a grimace.

"How are you feeling?"

"Water?" He whispered.

"Oh, of course." She quickly poured water into a small cup from the pitcher sitting beside the bed and held it up to his lips. He drank it slowly.

"Was that enough?"

He nodded. "Better." His voice was slightly stronger.

"William, I want to let you rest, but I need to know what happened to you."

"They bit me. They were going to kill me, and then…then he killed them."

"He? Who is he, William?"

"He filled me…I could feel it…"

"William?"

"It was Spike, Buffy. Spike saved me."