The weeks that followed Joyce's death were the weeks that changed everything. Before Joyce's death Spike and Buffy had developed a routine; an easy companionship that allowed them to be friends as well as vampire, or watcher, as Buffy sometimes called Spike as a joke, and slayer. However, in one second all that changed. For the entire week after Joyce's death Buffy refused to let Spike leave her sight for more than a second. At night he crawled into bed beside her, holding her tightly as she shuddered from nightmares that left her bathed in sweat and unable to fall back asleep.
During the day Spike would go through all of Joyce's things with the slayer. Sometimes it would be paperwork, which Spike would help Buffy with by explaining what the paper meant as well as all the choices she had regarding it. As much as she whined and complained, asking him to just choose for her, Spike knew the slayer liked the fact that he gave her options. That instead of simply telling her what to do, he was allowing her to honor her mother's memory by deciding for herself how she would live her life.
On other days Spike would watch as Buffy collected her mother's things. The slayer would carefully fold Joyce's clothes before placing them into one of two boxes. The "give away" box, which would be placed on the front lawn the next time Purple Heart came through the neighborhood to collect clothes, or the "keep" box, of things that would either be put up in the attic or put in the slayer's room. Things like jewelry, silk scarves, or just simple sweaters that held some significance to the slayer.
Through the drawn out process Spike merely sat on Joyce's bed, watching the slayer sift through her mother's things, only speaking when an answer was required. He would allow the slayer to speak, to tell him stories about her mother, or just about her plans for the future. He knew she was only using him for a sounding board. But he was happy to oblige. After all, it wasn't everyday you lose a mother….
London, 1880
"So, let's have a quick recap," Angelus suggested, his voice echoing throughout the nearly empty cave that he and William had ducked into to avoid the deadly rays of the sun. William lowered his eyes to the ground in a desperate attempt not to meet those of the master vampire who was pacing in front of him, speaking in a deceptively calm voice. "You have been a vampire for exactly two weeks. One and a half weeks ago you were given the instructions to hunt and kill your mother. She was to be your first meal. Correct?" Angelus asked, pausing his pacing to stare at William, who had lifted his eyes up to meet his Sire's in a submissive stare. There was a moment of silence, broken by the sound of Angelus' hand hitting William's cheek. "I asked you a question Childe!"
"Yes, Sire," William answered meekly. It would be ten more years until the vampire gained enough skill and courage to talk back to his sire.
"And would you mind repeating one more time, strictly for the record, why you have not killed your mother?"
"I have not seen her, Sire," William answered respectfully.
"Ahh, yes. Now I remember." Angelus said, cracking his knuckles one by one. "I'm just wondering if there's anything you can do to try harder. What do you think?"
"I don't think there is, Sire. I am trying as hard as I can."
"Well then, I shall lend my services and we'll just have to find your mother together. How does that sound?" Angelus asked mockingly. The master vampire's voice was quickly losing his calm tone, and the anger that William knew he felt was coming through.
"I am sure I'll find my mother with you helping, Sire," William whispered after only a moment's pause.
"You better pray we do boy," Angelus ground out, his voice losing all semblance of calm, "because until we do you will not drink a drop of blood. If it takes a week for you to find your mother, you will starve for a week. If it takes a month you will starve for a month. And if it takes longer…" Angelus trailed off.
"What will happen, Sire?" William asked.
"You'll wish you'd met the slayer before you met me," Angelus replied. William nodded and then waited until Angelus had walked deeper into the recesses of the cave before he allowed his stance to relax. Lying down on the cold floor of the cave the vampire fell asleep. Dreaming for the first time of his mother rather than the beautiful and mysterious Drusilla, the conniving Darla, or the cruel Angelus.
The next night-London, 1880
"Now William. We are at your mother's house, correct?" Angelus asked in a patronizingly slow voice.
"Yes, Sire."
"And what does your mother do every night at seven o'clock?" Angelus asked in the same voice.
"She goes to visit the neighbor, Mrs. Berkely."
"And tonight…"
"I'll stop her before she gets there and kill her," William replied obediently.
"And then…."
"I'll meet you, Darla and Drusilla back at the cave we stayed at today. And we'll celebrate my first kill," William said. Angelus nodded his head in agreement before turning swiftly on his heel and walking away from William, leaving the fledgling vampire alone in the alley. "Oh, and William,"
"Yes, Sire?"
"Don't even think of tricking me, I'll know if you've made the kill or not." William nodded in response to his Sire's word, knowing the truth they held. What he didn't know was that killing his mother would change everything; because if he had he might not have killed her.
There's a special bond between a mother and her child, the kind that suffering only strengthens. So, when one becomes a vampire the person who makes them, or trains them is to call them childe, and have the vampire call them sire. This is an attempt to undermine the relationship of mother and child. Then, after a while the fledgling must kill their mother. When they leave the dead body of their mother slumped on the ground they're freed. They are more than a vampire, they are a creature of the night.
The hardest thing William ever had to do was sink his fangs into his mother's neck. For the past week he had been living off blood bags as Angelus refused to allow him to kill anyone besides his mother. When William tasted the buttery blood that poured into his mouth from the vein on his mother's neck he knew his days of drinking from blood bags were over, and it sickened him to no end that the desire for his mother's blood was so strong. But the blood was too good, powerful….fearful….filled with love, desire, hope, anger, truth, justice, despair….it was truly life. So he left the body of his mother in front of her house and walked toward the cave where the others would be waiting. And though it wasn't as though he had a soul before, because that was lost when he became a vampire, he had changed. He no longer had the fears that mortals did. And for once in his life he was above every creature whose heart beat. And it didn't matter to him that his mother was dead…he was just like Angelus and Drusilla and Darla…they wouldn't have cried remembering the way they murdered the woman who had done everything for them…and he wasn't crying either…the tear dripping down his cheek, it wasn't a tear of pain. Because he didn't care that he killed his mother…….not one bit…
Back to 1996
"Spike…..Spike….Are you okay?" Spike was shaken from his thoughts by the sound of Buffy's concerned voice. He opened his eyes and was met with the sight of a very worried slayer looking at him.
"I'm fine love. Why, is something wrong?" Spike asked, not noticing the tears that stained his cheeks and were still falling until the slayer gently brushed them away with her knuckles.
"I'm okay. But you were crying. Are you sure there's nothing you want to discuss?" Buffy asked, one of her hands playing with a lock of Spike's hair absent mindedly.
"I'm fine. I best be going to the butcher's to stock up on some blood. I just remembered that I don't have very much here." Spike said. Buffy didn't comment. Since her mother's death she knew that Spike had started drinking from the bag. She didn't say anything about it. She understood why. It wasn't everyday that you lose a mother…