Chapter 7
From chapter 6
Spike: "Hell she even approached you, remember?"
Flashback
Seven years ago - England
William stood in the centre of the crowd of people attending the evening opening of the local gallery. A young man of medium height, his casual student dress was an anomaly in the crowd of strangers that milled around him in their smart clothes, making him feel very out of place.
He knew very little about art but there was someone in his life to whom it was very important, so when she'd invited him he'd felt compelled to attend and lend her his full support.
He looked around at the art on display. Some of it was abominable, how on earth did some of these people even consider themselves artists? Works that consisted of piles of rubbish or building materials. One bright spark had even picked up a traffic cone from somewhere, stuck it on a pedestal and called it "Coned off". Bloody ridiculous. Okay, now he was channelling his father. Not good.
Good God what happened to paintings? At least the lady he'd come to see tonight had the right idea. He was looking at them now. A display of some twenty or so pieces of artwork. They were all paintings. Beautiful renditions of British scenery. He had no idea what style they were in, or even really what medium. All he knew was they radiated a calmness and serenity that was part and parcel of the woman who'd created them. He was so engrossed in them, he didn't hear the person approaching him from behind until she spoke.
"Hey handsome."
William turned to the soft feminine voice behind him and smiled when he saw the attractive woman it belonged to. He grabbed his cousin into a warm embrace, enjoying the comforting feel of her arms. There was something very soothing about Tara McClay. Not a conventional beauty, but her pretty face, warm eyes, unique lopsided smile and womanly form, along with her nurturing warm nature had attracted her many an admirer, male and female alike.
"Hello Tai, " he whispered his special nickname for her into her hair, still holding her tightly.
"Will, Sweetie. I still need to breathe."
He released her with a quick apology. There weren't many people he felt comfortable with, especially in close contact, but he and Tara had always been close. More like siblings than cousins, and her restful aura just made her very comfortable to be around and to confide in.
"I'm glad you could make it, Will. I wasn't sure you'd come."
She took his arm and led him toward the buffet table. "Do you want something to eat? You're looking a little thin, Sweetie. Too much studying I'll bet. Here have a plate."
Will just smiled at her motherly concern as he accepted the plate she was piling high with food. That was Tara, always the carer. He wished he was able to spend more time with her but he was concerned about the situation she was in with her estranged family, and didn't wish to draw attention to her by his presence.
She moved him over to the small seating area and took a seat, watching as he settled next to her.
"Thanks Tai. But I really shouldn't have come. Donny could have followed me here."
"Oh Will, don't be so melodramatic." She gestured at him to eat.
"My brother knows where I am." At his incredulous stare she continued, "As does the rest of the family. I'm fed up hiding from them. They have no claim on me, or my life and the sooner they realise that the better."
She looked at him kindly. "You don't have to rescue me Sweetie. I'm fine. Concentrate on yourself for a change."
"Tai, what the hell do you mean, they know where you are? We've spent the last five years trying to keep your location from them. We haven't seen each other in three years because I didn't want them to find you. Now you say they know where you are. How?"
"I told them."
"You did what?" William just couldn't believe it, couldn't believe her. She'd tried so hard to get away from the family that had controlled her life, dictated what she could or couldn't do, who she could or couldn't see. And now she tells him, in that annoyingly calm way of hers, that they know where she is. Why the hell did she tell them?
"I told them. William, hiding wasn't solving anything. I was getting so involved in concealing myself and who I was, what I was doing, that I stopped being me. That was just as bad as the family controlling me. So I contacted Dad, told him where I was, what I was doing and explained in no uncertain terms that he has no legal rights over me, nor would any of his attempts to belittle me work. He has to realise that I'm my own person, with my own dreams and he has no say in anything I choose to do or not to do."
Will looked at her in complete amazement and awe, bewildered that she would do such a thing and at the same time immensely proud that she'd taken charge of her life.
"Tai, sweet. You are the most amazing woman I know." And he brushed a sweet kiss against her forehead.
He watched as she blushed ."Hardly. Come on, "she added changing the subject to something a little less broody, "Eat up I want to show you something, then there's someone I'd like you to meet."
William saw the mischievous glint in her eye, knowing exactly what she was doing. "Ah ah, " he warned her, "you are not going to try and 'fix me up'."
The answering smile she gave him put it at ease. "No sweetie, I'm not," she reassured him, " but there is a friend of mine I'd like to introduce you to. We've been corresponding for a while and." before she could finish she was interrupted by the exhibition organiser.
"Excuse me Miss McClay, but you have an interested party for some of your pieces."
"Oh poo."
The man was obviously confused as to her annoyance "Miss McClay, people wishing to purchase your work is usually considered a good thing." He explained as if to a child.
Tara and Will shared an amused smile. "Yes Mr Edwards, I know that. Thank you. I'll be there in a minute."
As he departed she stood and turned back to William, "Look Will, I'm sorry, but this could take a while. Will you stay for a while, take a look round.? I'll get back to you as soon as I can. "
He nodded at her, "Quick, go get those pictures sold."
He gave her an awkward hug, juggling her and the still full plate.
"You eat that, you hear." She ordered pointing to said plate
"Yes Miss." He agreed
"Don't use your boyish charms on me William Calendar. I'm immune," she smiled and began to walk away. Stopping quickly she turned at look at him. "Well mostly. it's so lovely to see you again Sweetie. It's been too long."
With that she turned in search of Mr Edwards and her buyer.
At a bit of a loss, he ate a few pieces of food from the plate, but none of it was particularly appetising. He glanced around, still uncomfortable and debated heading back to his hotel, or maybe taking a walk along the sea front and picking up some fish and chips. Now that he knew Tara wasn't in hiding, it'd be easier to communicate with her and from the look of her and the attractive woman she was deep in conversation with, it would be a long while before she would be getting back to him.
He smiled at the slight flush gracing her cheeks as the brunette woman gently touched her hand. It was about time Tara was able to live her life. God knew her family didn't condone her, how had her father phrased it? Oh yes, 'her unnatural life style choice.' But her newfound strength and determination amazed him and part of him was slightly jealous of that ability to say 'yah boo sucks' to the world and get on with life.
His attention was deflected from his cousin when he noticed a medium size sculpture almost hidden up against the far wall. Something about it intrigued him, and with all thoughts of Tara or leaving temporarily forgotten, he moved towards it.
It was a beautiful abstract piece that gave the impression of an androgynous human figure. All curves and strong shapes, pure white, with an intense sheen that glinted in the light. He could only imagine how much better it would look with the right lighting and positioning. As it was it was breathtaking, correctly shown it would be phenomenal.
He couldn't quite work out why it was here. It was if it had been shoved into the display as an after thought. It really was a shame as it showed such passion and involvement. Someone had thought about this piece, had studied the material to find the perfect form for the strengths and even the flaws hidden in the substance of the stone. He was at odds with himself to mention the flaw, but it was there. A small fracture in the stone, right across the area of the heart. Initially it gave the impression that the figure's heart had been broken, by some woeful calamity, but on further inspection the feeling was more than that. It said that, even with flaws in ones life, or psyche, one could love and be loved. And that was one hell of a thing for a bloody lump of inanimate rock to say.
He was so engrossed, that once again, he didn't realise there was someone behind him, until they spoke
"Do you like it?" asked a soft nervous female voice.
He continued to study the work still finding small nuances of detail that captivated him. "Excuse me?" he asked distractedly.
"Do you like it? This sculpture, do you like it? It's just you've been looking at it for the past ten minutes so I wondered if you liked it. Because I figured if you didn't like it then you probably wouldn't keep looking at it, and I'm rambling so I'll just go away now. Bye."
He could sense she was about to leave and realised the nervous blather deserved some acknowledgement that he'd heard her. He spoke from his heart when he answered, "It has.passion."
"It has?"
He was surprised at the question. The answer was obvious to him. "Don't you think so?"
"Well yes I do. But my thoughts aren't really relevant."
"They're not? And why would that be?"
"Well when you sculpt something you know what the piece is trying to tell you, but you never really know if you manage to capture that meaning or not. You're too close to it."
"You created this." he paused searching for the perfect word.
"This what?" she asked. He could hear the wariness in her voice as if she expected the worse.
"This wonderful, majestic form." He finally turned his attention away from the figure to the small form staring at the sculpture, next to him.
"Majestic? Really? Wow."
As her voice trailed off, he took a good look at the person who could create such a beautiful thing. She was a pretty little bundle. Small in stature, with soft female curves, an abundance of long dark blonde hair and stunning hazel eyes blinking at him from behind her glasses. She was adorable.
"May I ask your name? I'll keep an eye out for any future works you create. I am sure there will be many." He wasn't just being polite, he really thought she was very talented, and he'd look eagerly for any other pieces she did. Maybe one day he'd be able to afford one.
"Beth Summers." She held out her hand.
"And I am William Calendar." As they shook hands William was surprised with the ease he felt at the contact. It was with reluctance he released her hand, missing the warmth she had emitted. They stood each watching the other with a certain wariness, wondering at the strange familiarity between them. The odd feeling of.completion.of.home.
"Do you really like it?"
Why did she seem so insecure?
"Yes, I really like it. Do you think I would lie?"
"No. No. It's not that. It's just the first time I've ever shown my work. As it is, it was sorta shoved in at the last minute. A friend of mine saw it and wanted me to show it but they didn't really have the room, or the right lighting to show it at it's best. Plus you're the first person to show the slightest interest."
"That's a shame. It's.effulgent." He replied with a small smile and a twinkle in his blue eyes.
"Effulgent? Is that even a real word?" she looked at him with suspicious amusement.
"Absolutely it means 'radiant splendour'. "
At her bemused face he added, "Sorry an in joke. I'm reading English Literature at University and one of our professors has this thing for spouting out improbable words and asking us to rhyme them. It's a piece of fun, but it's amazing the words that stick in your mind after doing it."
She looked at him with curiosity. "So what does rhyme with it?"
"I haven't the faintest idea." He finally admitted as they both creased up into childish laughter.
Two hours later they were holed up in a vacant little Victorian Bus stop on the sea front, eating fish and chips and watching the most astounding storm sweep in across the sea. The storm, combined with the sunset, made for an unexpected amalgam of colours and textures which Beth was observing with every intent to memorise and use, she said.
He was hard pressed to explain exactly how they had ended up here of all places. He remembered asking her if she was hungry, when she nodded yes and he asked "Buffet?" he swore he saw a look of shock pass her features. When the look had passed and she'd shaken her head explaining she'd tried the food and didn't find it tasty, his earlier thought of fish and chips came to mind. When she'd agreed, he dragged them out of the gallery and down to the seafront to the English equivalent of haute cuisine.
He hadn't even stopped to say goodbye to Tai. Just caught her eye, as Beth had gone to collect her coat, and gave her the 'I'll call you' gesture, with his hand to his ear.
They chatted more about the gallery, about her family, his degree, about all sorts of inconsequential things the weather, art, literature, sports, TV. The list was long and diverse.
He'd explained that he wasn't close to his family, his parents were divorced with his father living in the States and he lived with his mother when he wasn't at University. She said hers were too, but her father was no great loss.
She had an opinion on everything and he found they disagreed on some things as much as agreed on others.
He found himself too enraptured with her delightful insights and humorous asides to pay much attention to anything but her. He'd been wrong. Her art wasn't effulgent. she was. She was graceful, yet had nearly managed to decapitate a gallery worker as he'd offered her an exquisitely prepared yet foul tasting canapé. She was funny but serious, shy but outgoing when relaxed, conservative but a fiery passion burned below the shy exterior, stubborn while open.
The woman who sat next to him, industriously inhaling fish and chips like it was going to jump off her lap was a study of contrasts, a contradiction in all things and she completely enthralled him.
They had been talking so long, that the scuttling clouds and impending darkness from the storm and the sunset had engulfed them without them realising it. It wasn't until the first lightning flash was joined by the virtually instantaneous thunderclap, and the driving horizontal rain swept into the shelter, that they interrupted their conversation.
Beth stood pulling William up with her. "Oh my God Will. Come here."
"What are we doing, Kitten?" he'd started calling her small endearments after they'd left the gallery. She didn't seem to mind. If it wasn't for the slight red hue that graced her cheeks each time he did it, he would have thought she hadn't noticed. But as she didn't seem to mind and hadn't told him to stop, he took every opportunity to drop these small hints of his fascination of her, to her. Because, if William was honest with himself, he probably had fallen for her the moment he'd taken her hand and felt like he'd come home.
"Feel this." She took his hand and pulled him out of the shelter and into the rain. Still grasping his hand she raised her arms and face to the sky, and allowed the elements to caress her.
"Feel what?" he asked, feeling fairly certain she wasn't referring to the freezing rain.
"The power, all these natural energies. They're inspiring."
She turned and treated him to the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen, her previously hazel eyes were wild, and wide, and now a dark emerald. She looked completely alive and invigorated.
Will contemplated this extraordinary woman. To him she looked every inch the mythical siren. The wind whipped her hair into a dark halo around her head, the rain had moulded her loose clothes to her body, with the extra fabric of her skirt fluttering around her legs. His romantic sensibilities got the better of him and he found himself silently vowing, to willingly follow this siren, his muse, to the ends of the earth, just so he could look upon her.
He was completely astounded when she flung her arms around his neck and drew him into an impulsive and passionate kiss.
Will was lost in her and so shocked at the spontaneous gesture it took a few long seconds for him to realise what was happening. When his mind finally caught up with the situation, he was glad to notice that at least his body had had some sense and was holding her close.
Her mouth pressed against his somewhat uncertainly but with such desire his knees trembled. He wove his hands through her wet hair, holding and angling her head to increase the depth and intensity of the kiss. She may have been uncertain and initially tentative, but her kisses were impassioned yet tender, as if his mouth was something delicate to explore and memorise.
He felt.cherished.it seemed an odd word to describe the feelings coursing through him. He been told time and again that love was passionate, demanding, fervent, all encompassing. And he felt all that, but beneath it all was an indescribable feeling that came from being.complete.
Will felt as though she were inhaling his essence, taking his soul and moulding it to fit her own. She was both hot and cold. Her body warmth contrasted to the cold wetness of her clothing and a proud portion of his brain noted her tremble at his caresses, as one of his hands smoothed down from her hair to her neck, softly gracing the curve of her breast, and ultimately held her to him by her waist. Her body was soft and pliant beneath his hands as she responded to his actions, and grabbed his wet curls in return.
They embraced in the pouring rain, while lightning flashed around them and the waves crashed into the promenade. They were so involved in the feel and taste of each other they probably would have stayed for the duration of the storm, completely oblivious to the raging tempest around them, as they gave in to the maelstrom of emotions flowing through them.
As it was, if a small elderly lady hadn't passed them, and with a smile, and a passing comment 'that as romantic as they looked, pneumonia was still a nasty illness to have, and shouldn't he take his pretty young lady home to dry off?' they would have stayed in their own world until the storm had passed.
As they pulled apart from each other, he looked deeply into to her eyes, trying to gauge the emotions swirling there. She seemed overwhelmed by the intensity of the kiss. A little skittish at their proximity now that the immediate passion of the moment had ebbed back from a desperate peak, although it remained as a steady thrum in the background, as if just waiting for the right time to surge forth again and sweep them away, but she also looked quite happy to remain encircled by his arms and he was more then content to just hold her.
With one hand he smoothed a wet piece of hair away from her face to tuck behind her ear, and placed a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose.
"Okay kitten?" he asked gently.
"Mmmh.a little wet though." She answered with a contented sigh, as she rubbed her cheek against his chest.
He pulled back surprised at her words, until his mind climbed back out of the sexual innuendo basement and realised they were both sopping wet from the rain. A sudden burst of guilt hit him, with the realisation that while he'd been all proud of his ability to make her tremble with his touch, what it might actually have been, was the cold and wet.
As his eyes widened in panic, her eyes found his and her hand gently traced a cheekbone with the tips of her fingers. " Don't worry. It was you making me quiver. I wasn't cold when you kissed me, you made me feel warm and safe." *Was she a mind reader?*
"Do you read minds?" he asked before thinking.
"No." she pulled his head down to place a chaste kiss to his lips, "But I can read your eyes. So blue." she stated in wonder and she kissed him softly.
"You're amazing." He pulled her in closer to kiss her again, but a thought interrupted before he did so and he pulled back a little. "And technically you kissed me."
Her eyes twinkled in merriment at his pedantry, "Well there's one way to amend that." Her voice invited.
He grinned and pecked her on the forehead. "There we go, all sorted." And before she could protest the brevity of his kiss he swept her up into his arms and started to carry her down the promenade.
"Where are we going?"
William paused. He'd been taking her back to his hotel to dry off, but maybe that wasn't what she wanted or what she thought he wanted from her.
"I was going to get you dry. My hotel's only five minutes down the road."
At her slightly surprised look he continued, " But I don't want you to feel like I'm trying to entice you there, if your place is closer I'll take you there, I just don't want you to catch cold. I promise I'll behave like a perfect gentleman." He looked away, letting her make the call.
"Well that would be a real shame, " answered her teasing voice. Now it was his turn to be surprised as he searched her face, trying to read her mind this time.
"Look Will, my hotel's actually quite a way into town, so if it's okay I'd like to get dry as quick as possible. If your place is closer, it's fine. I'm starting to get cold. I believe you wont take advantage of me." She admitted in all seriousness.
"That's more than fine." He grinned. Happy she'd decided to trust him, he continued on his way.
"Er.Will?"
"Yes precious?"
"You can put me down, I have legs and I've been using them nearly my entire life."
"Yes, I've seen them, and very shapely they are too." But he made no move to put her down as she blushed prettily.
After another minute of him carrying her she piped up again "So. Are you gonna put me down?"
"No."
"Okay.
Why not?"
"A couple of very good reasons."
"And they would be?"
"Makes me feel all manly."
"Oh.You said a couple of reasons"
"Yes I did."
"William!"
He snorted at her annoyance, loving the way her face flushed and her breathing increased.
"Yes petal?"
"What's another reason?"
He looked back down at her and whispered into her ear the soft spoken words that belied the force of their impact on the small blonde.
"I don't want to let you go."
"But you did go. Didn't you pet? " Stated Spike sadly, running his hand down the unconscious woman's face, re-tracing the features that had been burned into his mind from their all too brief encounter. Features that he had recalled numerous times to curse at, or to worship in equal measure.
Years ago Cecily had bruised his ego. And at the time he felt as if his heart and been broken, but it wasn't until this little bit of a woman had come and gone in his life did he realise that Cecily had been nothing more than a short lived fixation. A fascination based on what he thought he should want in a woman. She was cultured, sophisticated and well educated. She ran in the right social circles, but she had no feeling or understanding for anyone other than herself. Yes, she'd been attracted to William, but a quick spin with him was all she'd been interested in, and he'd been cast aside with excessive honesty, and cruelty that had left him in tears.
Beth.no not Beth. Buffy. Buffy had been no less cruel, but the lack of honesty had been the clincher. He had revealed himself to her in ways he had never done to anybody before. He had given himself to her that night. So freely. So completely. Not just physically but emotionally too. He had given up his very essence to her and believed that she had welcomed him, complete with all his imperfections and flaws.
But she had still left. Not a goodbye, not an 'I'm sorry but.', not a thank you, not a note. Not the slightest indication that the beautiful lies she had spoken, the things she had told him, had been anything more than a complete head fuck. Least he had the matching set. The body fuck had been bloody good too.
Waking up alone and bereft the next morning, he had vainly searched his extremely small room. Hopeful thoughts had crossed his mind that she'd gone to the bathroom, or for breakfast, anything to delay the stark truth, that she had left.
He had lain back in the rumpled sheets, still able to smell her subtle vanilla fragrance, suddenly realising that in all the things she'd told him, confided in him, she had never told him where she was staying, how long she'd be in England, where she lived in the States or where she went to college. Everything she'd spoken about had been abstract. Despite all the things she'd had said, not one would enable him to actually find her, and just maybe that was what she had planned.
His eyes had filled with tears that he wouldn't let fall, and he had sworn with a steadfast determination, that no woman would make him cry again.
*So used again William. Aren't the men the ones who are supposed to shag and leave?* The snarky voice that resided deep in William had asked, poked and prodded.
This voice had always there, always telling him what he should do if people ignored him or belittled him, or made him feel less than he was. Made him feel beneath them. So for the first time in his life William had listened and realised the voice was part of him and maybe it was about time he stood up for himself, took what he wanted for a change.
He had packed up his belongings, closing the open poetry book from the bedside table with a snap, checked out of the hotel and headed for the bus station. The journey up the promenade had taken him past the bus stop from the night before. He had paused briefly and watched as a couple of teenagers played tonsil hockey with a lot of enthusiasm if not skill, in the exact spot he and Beth had sat. He had been so caught up in his misery the young lad caught him looking and told him no uncertain terms to "to bugger off you great poof. Not givin' you a soddin' free show here mate!"
Startled and embarrassed to be caught watching, although their antics had been the last thing on his mind, he'd resumed his journey to the bus station. After purchasing his ticket, he'd sat down and pondered on the pathetic situation he called his life and the changes necessary. First things to go had to be his 'look' and attitude, and let's not forget the speech. His mind had wandered back to the teenager at the bus stop. That was what he needed, a bit of attitude in his voice. One of the lads he knew from University had all sorts of slang in his speech so he at least had some reference material.
He tried it out *So why are you the one left eh? Let's see. Not a bad looking bloke. Good strong features, the birds like that. But come on mate? The hair.curls? And the glasses. Need to head for the opticians.get those baby blues a flashin and you'll be quid's in. And these poncy clothes? The poet thing not really working for you is it? The girls like something a little more dangerous. Someone with mystery and confidence. There's plenty more lovely ladies out in the big wide world.*
As he was mentally adjusting his idiom he'd noticed a magazine someone had left behind. It was an issue of a music magazine, doing a retrospective of the eighties. He couldn't help but be drawn to the powerful image of the bleached, leather-clad man on the front cover. He just projected such confidence and assurity. That was what he wanted.
At that point William had made his decision. No more Mr Nice guy, no more being used and cast aside. It was about time he became a force to be reckoned with. Time for a change.
His father had been pestering him to go to the US, spend some time there. That had been the way to go. Dear old Rupes had had one hell of a shock when his son had turned up on the doorstep. Gone was the casually dressed, natural-looking industrious student, and here to stay was his new alter ego Spike Giles. Bleached blond, slicked hair, contacts and new accent all ready and raring to go.
His tolerant father had merely given him a once over. Stated no drugs, no parties and no women, at least in the house, and then pretty much left him to his own devices.
Spike was pretty successful, but remnants of William remained. He still studied, even adding a psychology minor, seeing as he seemed to have another person residing in his head. Yes he partied and found the occasional woman to share his bed. But his past experiences made many of those encounters more about revenge than anything else. But underneath it all William felt empathy for the women, making sure to be honest and that each of them knew the situation. He didn't want to make anyone feel as bad as he had.
Then he met Drusilla. Drusilla had been his dark Princess. He'd loved her and it wasn't until she had dumped him he'd realised she hadn't loved him, just been obsessed with him.
If Buffy had moulded his soul, Drusilla had ripped it out. Pulled and twisted it into something even he came to barely recognise. She embroiled him in silly games designed to hurt and confuse others. She got him involved in jealousy provoked bar fights, where she would flirt until Spike's temper would flare into an uncontrollable fury. The scar over his left eye was courtesy from one of these incidents. Not left by his opponent, but by his own girlfriend. She'd clocked him one when he'd refused to carry on hitting a man he'd already rendered unconscious..
For nearly two years their relationship continued until he finally came to his senses. He was nearly thrown out of college. But the final straw had been Dru herself. He had never done drugs, although Dru was doing them and the fact that he wouldn't had been something that angered her. She had tried every ruse under the sun to get him to try, she pleaded with him, she tried cajoling him with her tears, tempting him with sex, and when these didn't work she spiked him. Unsuspecting she slipped LSD into his drink one night and Spike had visited bloody Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds on the acid trip from hell.
Even that wasn't the final straw, but lying in that hospital room, with his father watching him with fear in his eyes, had made him sit up and take notice of his relationship with Dru. She didn't need him to take care of her, she wanted something to play with and manipulate like some bloody doll. She controlled him through his love for her, and God help him he had still loved her. He had lost himself in her. Delighted that such a dark beauty could want and desire him. He had skipped classes, partied too much, drank too much, stole the things she desired. He became the big bloody bad, for a woman who used him as her plaything. All because he thought she loved him. And he had been taking pysch classes? Bloody blind he'd been.
When he'd got out of the hospital he went to see her, to try and get things understood between them as well as to get her the help he realised she so desperately needed. She'd acted like everything was fine and normal and tried to lure him into bed. But he couldn't trust her and in an almighty rage she had dumped him. Oblivious to the fact that that was what Spike had already had in mind. He would have helped her through any treatment, but he could no longer be with her. It was with sadness he had realised you could only help someone so much, then it was up to them to help themselves.
He went back to studying and the Big Bad and William managed to find a compromise in the new and improved Spike. He was all the good things in William, and all the strength of character and confidence that was the Bad.
It was this Spike who watched avidly, as the hazel eyes of Buffy Summers began to flutter open.
tbc
From chapter 6
Spike: "Hell she even approached you, remember?"
Flashback
Seven years ago - England
William stood in the centre of the crowd of people attending the evening opening of the local gallery. A young man of medium height, his casual student dress was an anomaly in the crowd of strangers that milled around him in their smart clothes, making him feel very out of place.
He knew very little about art but there was someone in his life to whom it was very important, so when she'd invited him he'd felt compelled to attend and lend her his full support.
He looked around at the art on display. Some of it was abominable, how on earth did some of these people even consider themselves artists? Works that consisted of piles of rubbish or building materials. One bright spark had even picked up a traffic cone from somewhere, stuck it on a pedestal and called it "Coned off". Bloody ridiculous. Okay, now he was channelling his father. Not good.
Good God what happened to paintings? At least the lady he'd come to see tonight had the right idea. He was looking at them now. A display of some twenty or so pieces of artwork. They were all paintings. Beautiful renditions of British scenery. He had no idea what style they were in, or even really what medium. All he knew was they radiated a calmness and serenity that was part and parcel of the woman who'd created them. He was so engrossed in them, he didn't hear the person approaching him from behind until she spoke.
"Hey handsome."
William turned to the soft feminine voice behind him and smiled when he saw the attractive woman it belonged to. He grabbed his cousin into a warm embrace, enjoying the comforting feel of her arms. There was something very soothing about Tara McClay. Not a conventional beauty, but her pretty face, warm eyes, unique lopsided smile and womanly form, along with her nurturing warm nature had attracted her many an admirer, male and female alike.
"Hello Tai, " he whispered his special nickname for her into her hair, still holding her tightly.
"Will, Sweetie. I still need to breathe."
He released her with a quick apology. There weren't many people he felt comfortable with, especially in close contact, but he and Tara had always been close. More like siblings than cousins, and her restful aura just made her very comfortable to be around and to confide in.
"I'm glad you could make it, Will. I wasn't sure you'd come."
She took his arm and led him toward the buffet table. "Do you want something to eat? You're looking a little thin, Sweetie. Too much studying I'll bet. Here have a plate."
Will just smiled at her motherly concern as he accepted the plate she was piling high with food. That was Tara, always the carer. He wished he was able to spend more time with her but he was concerned about the situation she was in with her estranged family, and didn't wish to draw attention to her by his presence.
She moved him over to the small seating area and took a seat, watching as he settled next to her.
"Thanks Tai. But I really shouldn't have come. Donny could have followed me here."
"Oh Will, don't be so melodramatic." She gestured at him to eat.
"My brother knows where I am." At his incredulous stare she continued, "As does the rest of the family. I'm fed up hiding from them. They have no claim on me, or my life and the sooner they realise that the better."
She looked at him kindly. "You don't have to rescue me Sweetie. I'm fine. Concentrate on yourself for a change."
"Tai, what the hell do you mean, they know where you are? We've spent the last five years trying to keep your location from them. We haven't seen each other in three years because I didn't want them to find you. Now you say they know where you are. How?"
"I told them."
"You did what?" William just couldn't believe it, couldn't believe her. She'd tried so hard to get away from the family that had controlled her life, dictated what she could or couldn't do, who she could or couldn't see. And now she tells him, in that annoyingly calm way of hers, that they know where she is. Why the hell did she tell them?
"I told them. William, hiding wasn't solving anything. I was getting so involved in concealing myself and who I was, what I was doing, that I stopped being me. That was just as bad as the family controlling me. So I contacted Dad, told him where I was, what I was doing and explained in no uncertain terms that he has no legal rights over me, nor would any of his attempts to belittle me work. He has to realise that I'm my own person, with my own dreams and he has no say in anything I choose to do or not to do."
Will looked at her in complete amazement and awe, bewildered that she would do such a thing and at the same time immensely proud that she'd taken charge of her life.
"Tai, sweet. You are the most amazing woman I know." And he brushed a sweet kiss against her forehead.
He watched as she blushed ."Hardly. Come on, "she added changing the subject to something a little less broody, "Eat up I want to show you something, then there's someone I'd like you to meet."
William saw the mischievous glint in her eye, knowing exactly what she was doing. "Ah ah, " he warned her, "you are not going to try and 'fix me up'."
The answering smile she gave him put it at ease. "No sweetie, I'm not," she reassured him, " but there is a friend of mine I'd like to introduce you to. We've been corresponding for a while and." before she could finish she was interrupted by the exhibition organiser.
"Excuse me Miss McClay, but you have an interested party for some of your pieces."
"Oh poo."
The man was obviously confused as to her annoyance "Miss McClay, people wishing to purchase your work is usually considered a good thing." He explained as if to a child.
Tara and Will shared an amused smile. "Yes Mr Edwards, I know that. Thank you. I'll be there in a minute."
As he departed she stood and turned back to William, "Look Will, I'm sorry, but this could take a while. Will you stay for a while, take a look round.? I'll get back to you as soon as I can. "
He nodded at her, "Quick, go get those pictures sold."
He gave her an awkward hug, juggling her and the still full plate.
"You eat that, you hear." She ordered pointing to said plate
"Yes Miss." He agreed
"Don't use your boyish charms on me William Calendar. I'm immune," she smiled and began to walk away. Stopping quickly she turned at look at him. "Well mostly. it's so lovely to see you again Sweetie. It's been too long."
With that she turned in search of Mr Edwards and her buyer.
At a bit of a loss, he ate a few pieces of food from the plate, but none of it was particularly appetising. He glanced around, still uncomfortable and debated heading back to his hotel, or maybe taking a walk along the sea front and picking up some fish and chips. Now that he knew Tara wasn't in hiding, it'd be easier to communicate with her and from the look of her and the attractive woman she was deep in conversation with, it would be a long while before she would be getting back to him.
He smiled at the slight flush gracing her cheeks as the brunette woman gently touched her hand. It was about time Tara was able to live her life. God knew her family didn't condone her, how had her father phrased it? Oh yes, 'her unnatural life style choice.' But her newfound strength and determination amazed him and part of him was slightly jealous of that ability to say 'yah boo sucks' to the world and get on with life.
His attention was deflected from his cousin when he noticed a medium size sculpture almost hidden up against the far wall. Something about it intrigued him, and with all thoughts of Tara or leaving temporarily forgotten, he moved towards it.
It was a beautiful abstract piece that gave the impression of an androgynous human figure. All curves and strong shapes, pure white, with an intense sheen that glinted in the light. He could only imagine how much better it would look with the right lighting and positioning. As it was it was breathtaking, correctly shown it would be phenomenal.
He couldn't quite work out why it was here. It was if it had been shoved into the display as an after thought. It really was a shame as it showed such passion and involvement. Someone had thought about this piece, had studied the material to find the perfect form for the strengths and even the flaws hidden in the substance of the stone. He was at odds with himself to mention the flaw, but it was there. A small fracture in the stone, right across the area of the heart. Initially it gave the impression that the figure's heart had been broken, by some woeful calamity, but on further inspection the feeling was more than that. It said that, even with flaws in ones life, or psyche, one could love and be loved. And that was one hell of a thing for a bloody lump of inanimate rock to say.
He was so engrossed, that once again, he didn't realise there was someone behind him, until they spoke
"Do you like it?" asked a soft nervous female voice.
He continued to study the work still finding small nuances of detail that captivated him. "Excuse me?" he asked distractedly.
"Do you like it? This sculpture, do you like it? It's just you've been looking at it for the past ten minutes so I wondered if you liked it. Because I figured if you didn't like it then you probably wouldn't keep looking at it, and I'm rambling so I'll just go away now. Bye."
He could sense she was about to leave and realised the nervous blather deserved some acknowledgement that he'd heard her. He spoke from his heart when he answered, "It has.passion."
"It has?"
He was surprised at the question. The answer was obvious to him. "Don't you think so?"
"Well yes I do. But my thoughts aren't really relevant."
"They're not? And why would that be?"
"Well when you sculpt something you know what the piece is trying to tell you, but you never really know if you manage to capture that meaning or not. You're too close to it."
"You created this." he paused searching for the perfect word.
"This what?" she asked. He could hear the wariness in her voice as if she expected the worse.
"This wonderful, majestic form." He finally turned his attention away from the figure to the small form staring at the sculpture, next to him.
"Majestic? Really? Wow."
As her voice trailed off, he took a good look at the person who could create such a beautiful thing. She was a pretty little bundle. Small in stature, with soft female curves, an abundance of long dark blonde hair and stunning hazel eyes blinking at him from behind her glasses. She was adorable.
"May I ask your name? I'll keep an eye out for any future works you create. I am sure there will be many." He wasn't just being polite, he really thought she was very talented, and he'd look eagerly for any other pieces she did. Maybe one day he'd be able to afford one.
"Beth Summers." She held out her hand.
"And I am William Calendar." As they shook hands William was surprised with the ease he felt at the contact. It was with reluctance he released her hand, missing the warmth she had emitted. They stood each watching the other with a certain wariness, wondering at the strange familiarity between them. The odd feeling of.completion.of.home.
"Do you really like it?"
Why did she seem so insecure?
"Yes, I really like it. Do you think I would lie?"
"No. No. It's not that. It's just the first time I've ever shown my work. As it is, it was sorta shoved in at the last minute. A friend of mine saw it and wanted me to show it but they didn't really have the room, or the right lighting to show it at it's best. Plus you're the first person to show the slightest interest."
"That's a shame. It's.effulgent." He replied with a small smile and a twinkle in his blue eyes.
"Effulgent? Is that even a real word?" she looked at him with suspicious amusement.
"Absolutely it means 'radiant splendour'. "
At her bemused face he added, "Sorry an in joke. I'm reading English Literature at University and one of our professors has this thing for spouting out improbable words and asking us to rhyme them. It's a piece of fun, but it's amazing the words that stick in your mind after doing it."
She looked at him with curiosity. "So what does rhyme with it?"
"I haven't the faintest idea." He finally admitted as they both creased up into childish laughter.
Two hours later they were holed up in a vacant little Victorian Bus stop on the sea front, eating fish and chips and watching the most astounding storm sweep in across the sea. The storm, combined with the sunset, made for an unexpected amalgam of colours and textures which Beth was observing with every intent to memorise and use, she said.
He was hard pressed to explain exactly how they had ended up here of all places. He remembered asking her if she was hungry, when she nodded yes and he asked "Buffet?" he swore he saw a look of shock pass her features. When the look had passed and she'd shaken her head explaining she'd tried the food and didn't find it tasty, his earlier thought of fish and chips came to mind. When she'd agreed, he dragged them out of the gallery and down to the seafront to the English equivalent of haute cuisine.
He hadn't even stopped to say goodbye to Tai. Just caught her eye, as Beth had gone to collect her coat, and gave her the 'I'll call you' gesture, with his hand to his ear.
They chatted more about the gallery, about her family, his degree, about all sorts of inconsequential things the weather, art, literature, sports, TV. The list was long and diverse.
He'd explained that he wasn't close to his family, his parents were divorced with his father living in the States and he lived with his mother when he wasn't at University. She said hers were too, but her father was no great loss.
She had an opinion on everything and he found they disagreed on some things as much as agreed on others.
He found himself too enraptured with her delightful insights and humorous asides to pay much attention to anything but her. He'd been wrong. Her art wasn't effulgent. she was. She was graceful, yet had nearly managed to decapitate a gallery worker as he'd offered her an exquisitely prepared yet foul tasting canapé. She was funny but serious, shy but outgoing when relaxed, conservative but a fiery passion burned below the shy exterior, stubborn while open.
The woman who sat next to him, industriously inhaling fish and chips like it was going to jump off her lap was a study of contrasts, a contradiction in all things and she completely enthralled him.
They had been talking so long, that the scuttling clouds and impending darkness from the storm and the sunset had engulfed them without them realising it. It wasn't until the first lightning flash was joined by the virtually instantaneous thunderclap, and the driving horizontal rain swept into the shelter, that they interrupted their conversation.
Beth stood pulling William up with her. "Oh my God Will. Come here."
"What are we doing, Kitten?" he'd started calling her small endearments after they'd left the gallery. She didn't seem to mind. If it wasn't for the slight red hue that graced her cheeks each time he did it, he would have thought she hadn't noticed. But as she didn't seem to mind and hadn't told him to stop, he took every opportunity to drop these small hints of his fascination of her, to her. Because, if William was honest with himself, he probably had fallen for her the moment he'd taken her hand and felt like he'd come home.
"Feel this." She took his hand and pulled him out of the shelter and into the rain. Still grasping his hand she raised her arms and face to the sky, and allowed the elements to caress her.
"Feel what?" he asked, feeling fairly certain she wasn't referring to the freezing rain.
"The power, all these natural energies. They're inspiring."
She turned and treated him to the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen, her previously hazel eyes were wild, and wide, and now a dark emerald. She looked completely alive and invigorated.
Will contemplated this extraordinary woman. To him she looked every inch the mythical siren. The wind whipped her hair into a dark halo around her head, the rain had moulded her loose clothes to her body, with the extra fabric of her skirt fluttering around her legs. His romantic sensibilities got the better of him and he found himself silently vowing, to willingly follow this siren, his muse, to the ends of the earth, just so he could look upon her.
He was completely astounded when she flung her arms around his neck and drew him into an impulsive and passionate kiss.
Will was lost in her and so shocked at the spontaneous gesture it took a few long seconds for him to realise what was happening. When his mind finally caught up with the situation, he was glad to notice that at least his body had had some sense and was holding her close.
Her mouth pressed against his somewhat uncertainly but with such desire his knees trembled. He wove his hands through her wet hair, holding and angling her head to increase the depth and intensity of the kiss. She may have been uncertain and initially tentative, but her kisses were impassioned yet tender, as if his mouth was something delicate to explore and memorise.
He felt.cherished.it seemed an odd word to describe the feelings coursing through him. He been told time and again that love was passionate, demanding, fervent, all encompassing. And he felt all that, but beneath it all was an indescribable feeling that came from being.complete.
Will felt as though she were inhaling his essence, taking his soul and moulding it to fit her own. She was both hot and cold. Her body warmth contrasted to the cold wetness of her clothing and a proud portion of his brain noted her tremble at his caresses, as one of his hands smoothed down from her hair to her neck, softly gracing the curve of her breast, and ultimately held her to him by her waist. Her body was soft and pliant beneath his hands as she responded to his actions, and grabbed his wet curls in return.
They embraced in the pouring rain, while lightning flashed around them and the waves crashed into the promenade. They were so involved in the feel and taste of each other they probably would have stayed for the duration of the storm, completely oblivious to the raging tempest around them, as they gave in to the maelstrom of emotions flowing through them.
As it was, if a small elderly lady hadn't passed them, and with a smile, and a passing comment 'that as romantic as they looked, pneumonia was still a nasty illness to have, and shouldn't he take his pretty young lady home to dry off?' they would have stayed in their own world until the storm had passed.
As they pulled apart from each other, he looked deeply into to her eyes, trying to gauge the emotions swirling there. She seemed overwhelmed by the intensity of the kiss. A little skittish at their proximity now that the immediate passion of the moment had ebbed back from a desperate peak, although it remained as a steady thrum in the background, as if just waiting for the right time to surge forth again and sweep them away, but she also looked quite happy to remain encircled by his arms and he was more then content to just hold her.
With one hand he smoothed a wet piece of hair away from her face to tuck behind her ear, and placed a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose.
"Okay kitten?" he asked gently.
"Mmmh.a little wet though." She answered with a contented sigh, as she rubbed her cheek against his chest.
He pulled back surprised at her words, until his mind climbed back out of the sexual innuendo basement and realised they were both sopping wet from the rain. A sudden burst of guilt hit him, with the realisation that while he'd been all proud of his ability to make her tremble with his touch, what it might actually have been, was the cold and wet.
As his eyes widened in panic, her eyes found his and her hand gently traced a cheekbone with the tips of her fingers. " Don't worry. It was you making me quiver. I wasn't cold when you kissed me, you made me feel warm and safe." *Was she a mind reader?*
"Do you read minds?" he asked before thinking.
"No." she pulled his head down to place a chaste kiss to his lips, "But I can read your eyes. So blue." she stated in wonder and she kissed him softly.
"You're amazing." He pulled her in closer to kiss her again, but a thought interrupted before he did so and he pulled back a little. "And technically you kissed me."
Her eyes twinkled in merriment at his pedantry, "Well there's one way to amend that." Her voice invited.
He grinned and pecked her on the forehead. "There we go, all sorted." And before she could protest the brevity of his kiss he swept her up into his arms and started to carry her down the promenade.
"Where are we going?"
William paused. He'd been taking her back to his hotel to dry off, but maybe that wasn't what she wanted or what she thought he wanted from her.
"I was going to get you dry. My hotel's only five minutes down the road."
At her slightly surprised look he continued, " But I don't want you to feel like I'm trying to entice you there, if your place is closer I'll take you there, I just don't want you to catch cold. I promise I'll behave like a perfect gentleman." He looked away, letting her make the call.
"Well that would be a real shame, " answered her teasing voice. Now it was his turn to be surprised as he searched her face, trying to read her mind this time.
"Look Will, my hotel's actually quite a way into town, so if it's okay I'd like to get dry as quick as possible. If your place is closer, it's fine. I'm starting to get cold. I believe you wont take advantage of me." She admitted in all seriousness.
"That's more than fine." He grinned. Happy she'd decided to trust him, he continued on his way.
"Er.Will?"
"Yes precious?"
"You can put me down, I have legs and I've been using them nearly my entire life."
"Yes, I've seen them, and very shapely they are too." But he made no move to put her down as she blushed prettily.
After another minute of him carrying her she piped up again "So. Are you gonna put me down?"
"No."
"Okay.
Why not?"
"A couple of very good reasons."
"And they would be?"
"Makes me feel all manly."
"Oh.You said a couple of reasons"
"Yes I did."
"William!"
He snorted at her annoyance, loving the way her face flushed and her breathing increased.
"Yes petal?"
"What's another reason?"
He looked back down at her and whispered into her ear the soft spoken words that belied the force of their impact on the small blonde.
"I don't want to let you go."
"But you did go. Didn't you pet? " Stated Spike sadly, running his hand down the unconscious woman's face, re-tracing the features that had been burned into his mind from their all too brief encounter. Features that he had recalled numerous times to curse at, or to worship in equal measure.
Years ago Cecily had bruised his ego. And at the time he felt as if his heart and been broken, but it wasn't until this little bit of a woman had come and gone in his life did he realise that Cecily had been nothing more than a short lived fixation. A fascination based on what he thought he should want in a woman. She was cultured, sophisticated and well educated. She ran in the right social circles, but she had no feeling or understanding for anyone other than herself. Yes, she'd been attracted to William, but a quick spin with him was all she'd been interested in, and he'd been cast aside with excessive honesty, and cruelty that had left him in tears.
Beth.no not Beth. Buffy. Buffy had been no less cruel, but the lack of honesty had been the clincher. He had revealed himself to her in ways he had never done to anybody before. He had given himself to her that night. So freely. So completely. Not just physically but emotionally too. He had given up his very essence to her and believed that she had welcomed him, complete with all his imperfections and flaws.
But she had still left. Not a goodbye, not an 'I'm sorry but.', not a thank you, not a note. Not the slightest indication that the beautiful lies she had spoken, the things she had told him, had been anything more than a complete head fuck. Least he had the matching set. The body fuck had been bloody good too.
Waking up alone and bereft the next morning, he had vainly searched his extremely small room. Hopeful thoughts had crossed his mind that she'd gone to the bathroom, or for breakfast, anything to delay the stark truth, that she had left.
He had lain back in the rumpled sheets, still able to smell her subtle vanilla fragrance, suddenly realising that in all the things she'd told him, confided in him, she had never told him where she was staying, how long she'd be in England, where she lived in the States or where she went to college. Everything she'd spoken about had been abstract. Despite all the things she'd had said, not one would enable him to actually find her, and just maybe that was what she had planned.
His eyes had filled with tears that he wouldn't let fall, and he had sworn with a steadfast determination, that no woman would make him cry again.
*So used again William. Aren't the men the ones who are supposed to shag and leave?* The snarky voice that resided deep in William had asked, poked and prodded.
This voice had always there, always telling him what he should do if people ignored him or belittled him, or made him feel less than he was. Made him feel beneath them. So for the first time in his life William had listened and realised the voice was part of him and maybe it was about time he stood up for himself, took what he wanted for a change.
He had packed up his belongings, closing the open poetry book from the bedside table with a snap, checked out of the hotel and headed for the bus station. The journey up the promenade had taken him past the bus stop from the night before. He had paused briefly and watched as a couple of teenagers played tonsil hockey with a lot of enthusiasm if not skill, in the exact spot he and Beth had sat. He had been so caught up in his misery the young lad caught him looking and told him no uncertain terms to "to bugger off you great poof. Not givin' you a soddin' free show here mate!"
Startled and embarrassed to be caught watching, although their antics had been the last thing on his mind, he'd resumed his journey to the bus station. After purchasing his ticket, he'd sat down and pondered on the pathetic situation he called his life and the changes necessary. First things to go had to be his 'look' and attitude, and let's not forget the speech. His mind had wandered back to the teenager at the bus stop. That was what he needed, a bit of attitude in his voice. One of the lads he knew from University had all sorts of slang in his speech so he at least had some reference material.
He tried it out *So why are you the one left eh? Let's see. Not a bad looking bloke. Good strong features, the birds like that. But come on mate? The hair.curls? And the glasses. Need to head for the opticians.get those baby blues a flashin and you'll be quid's in. And these poncy clothes? The poet thing not really working for you is it? The girls like something a little more dangerous. Someone with mystery and confidence. There's plenty more lovely ladies out in the big wide world.*
As he was mentally adjusting his idiom he'd noticed a magazine someone had left behind. It was an issue of a music magazine, doing a retrospective of the eighties. He couldn't help but be drawn to the powerful image of the bleached, leather-clad man on the front cover. He just projected such confidence and assurity. That was what he wanted.
At that point William had made his decision. No more Mr Nice guy, no more being used and cast aside. It was about time he became a force to be reckoned with. Time for a change.
His father had been pestering him to go to the US, spend some time there. That had been the way to go. Dear old Rupes had had one hell of a shock when his son had turned up on the doorstep. Gone was the casually dressed, natural-looking industrious student, and here to stay was his new alter ego Spike Giles. Bleached blond, slicked hair, contacts and new accent all ready and raring to go.
His tolerant father had merely given him a once over. Stated no drugs, no parties and no women, at least in the house, and then pretty much left him to his own devices.
Spike was pretty successful, but remnants of William remained. He still studied, even adding a psychology minor, seeing as he seemed to have another person residing in his head. Yes he partied and found the occasional woman to share his bed. But his past experiences made many of those encounters more about revenge than anything else. But underneath it all William felt empathy for the women, making sure to be honest and that each of them knew the situation. He didn't want to make anyone feel as bad as he had.
Then he met Drusilla. Drusilla had been his dark Princess. He'd loved her and it wasn't until she had dumped him he'd realised she hadn't loved him, just been obsessed with him.
If Buffy had moulded his soul, Drusilla had ripped it out. Pulled and twisted it into something even he came to barely recognise. She embroiled him in silly games designed to hurt and confuse others. She got him involved in jealousy provoked bar fights, where she would flirt until Spike's temper would flare into an uncontrollable fury. The scar over his left eye was courtesy from one of these incidents. Not left by his opponent, but by his own girlfriend. She'd clocked him one when he'd refused to carry on hitting a man he'd already rendered unconscious..
For nearly two years their relationship continued until he finally came to his senses. He was nearly thrown out of college. But the final straw had been Dru herself. He had never done drugs, although Dru was doing them and the fact that he wouldn't had been something that angered her. She had tried every ruse under the sun to get him to try, she pleaded with him, she tried cajoling him with her tears, tempting him with sex, and when these didn't work she spiked him. Unsuspecting she slipped LSD into his drink one night and Spike had visited bloody Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds on the acid trip from hell.
Even that wasn't the final straw, but lying in that hospital room, with his father watching him with fear in his eyes, had made him sit up and take notice of his relationship with Dru. She didn't need him to take care of her, she wanted something to play with and manipulate like some bloody doll. She controlled him through his love for her, and God help him he had still loved her. He had lost himself in her. Delighted that such a dark beauty could want and desire him. He had skipped classes, partied too much, drank too much, stole the things she desired. He became the big bloody bad, for a woman who used him as her plaything. All because he thought she loved him. And he had been taking pysch classes? Bloody blind he'd been.
When he'd got out of the hospital he went to see her, to try and get things understood between them as well as to get her the help he realised she so desperately needed. She'd acted like everything was fine and normal and tried to lure him into bed. But he couldn't trust her and in an almighty rage she had dumped him. Oblivious to the fact that that was what Spike had already had in mind. He would have helped her through any treatment, but he could no longer be with her. It was with sadness he had realised you could only help someone so much, then it was up to them to help themselves.
He went back to studying and the Big Bad and William managed to find a compromise in the new and improved Spike. He was all the good things in William, and all the strength of character and confidence that was the Bad.
It was this Spike who watched avidly, as the hazel eyes of Buffy Summers began to flutter open.
tbc