Title: True Inversion
Rating: PG-13
Genre: General
Summary: The inner workings of a 'verse in which Buffy is a Master Vampire, while Spike is the Slayer, though never with a grand cause in mind—just a deep interest in the world's supply of onion flower, bad TV, etc., etc...
Notes: Well, I feel like I've been writing like mad. And all the visual images I keep getting of this story keeps tempting me to just draw it out into a comic and host it on photobucket, but my drawing skills are seriously rusty...
Disclaimer: I have no legal claim on Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Chapter 2
"Mr. William Jack Thorne." The boy looked up through bleary eyes, then widened and sat straight up when it registered with him that his freakin' history teacher knew his middle name. Obviously, it would be on roll call, any of the numerous papers she would have on him, the documents she could look up on the computer…but just taking human nature into account, you don't expect teachers to commit your sodding middle name to memory. ("What, you're saying Jack's too boring a name? It was my Father's—your Grandfather, of course...")
He pretty much tuned out her brief lecture, something about disappointment in him in light of his "stellar" grades all the way in London's Central High, another thing about this class being too boring for him—hell, he just…slept rough last night, that's all. (Giles' picking into his dreams this morning didn't help that much either.)
Staying awake, the rest of the class passed uneventfully, prattling on about the Black Plague. William hurried out with the rest of the lot once the bell rang, finally feeling thankful that he'd gotten away without any detention. As he made a beeline for Faith's restroom, the boy promised himself that the rest of the day at school would go smoothly…a half-hearted promise at least, he was realistic enough.
The first thing that hit him once he opened the stick-figure-girl inscribed door was the smell; William was thankful it was just the scent of tobacco. Faith flashed the boy a smirk, then crushed the cigarette under heel, and led him out into the school's quad.
It struck William that this was probably the first normal conversation he'd had since being called as the "Chosen One." ("Just a fancy way of saying you won the lottery, I take it? Just minus all the money and glamour and switch it with ridiculous superhero duty.") Of course, the boy never had a good track record of conversing with others to begin with, so talking to Faith was even more of a breakthrough; girl was very open, able to crack his shell with a fair amount of ease.
Faith gave what advice she could about Sunnydale High, like info on Queen C's clique, Willow's one of the top five students you should go to for tutoring, what teachers too look out for, who to get in good with; they learned that, yes, he was Freshman, she Sophomore. William admitted to the new librarian being his guardian after profusely explaining that no, he's not my Dad, guy died before I could meet him, which in turn got her saying she was an experienced orphan, but nothing more. And then there was just random talk about food and music and TV. Something to remember: "After school, meet me at the Bronze; it's about the only fun place in this grand ol' Dale—the fact that it's in the bad part of town makes its appeal obvious…which is about a block away from the good part of town; I'll be there for awhile, so don't get too hung up on punctuality." Occasionally William would notice the people stealing quick looks aimed his way and gossiping about him the whole time, non-stop; the things a small town like Sunnyhell leach onto and suck and suck until nothing was left, and everyone was just having a bloody field day with his gym fire. ("Giles, just make the cover story easier and have the Council classify me as a certifiable pyromaniac, 'kay?")
Instead of banging his head into a nearby tree, William rolled his eyes as he heard someone babble obnoxiously loud, "And Harm, P.E. got all cancelled because of the totally dead guy stuffed in the locker room, and he had these even weirder holes in his neck..."
Faith just smiled at the puppy-dog eyes William gave her as he excused himself. (She could see he wasn't trying to get away from her, she doubted he could even make an actual lie at all.) The girl just waved him off with a "See ya' at the Bronze," and the boy tried to take his leave as casually as possible, but then he just snapped and ran like hell for the gym…which he would not be burning anytime soon. Hopefully.
&&&&&&
Giles stared holes into the back of William's scruffy head as he prattled on with that Willow girl, who seemed nice enough but the boy just burst in here with clearly imperative news, then suddenly turned all gabby with her once he noticed her seating at the table going over some "Treatise" book and—Giles would calm down and wait. (At least William could be credited with at initially cutting off his news shyly and appropriately freaked; and even settling himself down with the red head in an attempt at casual for secret identity's sake, but things just went downhill—Watcher perspective, anyway—when they both ran full speed into endless talking. All right, even more points for having an intelligent discussion with the girl that wasn't drivel.)
Finally the man had enough, stepping in: "I'm sorry Willow, but I'm afraid I need William alone for a moment..." William slumped down into folded arms, entire expression sulky, while the girl looked up at him, all red and eyes wide.
"No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"
"Oh no, it's quite all right, it's just right now—"
"Um, yeah, you probably want to talk to Will 'bout the fight with Larry—"
Willow was incredibly skilled at showing herself of wanting to shrivel up and slip through a crack in the floor; William just bit his lip and determinedly looked away from his guardian. "I didn't mean—I wasn't trying to be all nosey, honest, it's just all over the school—" emerald eyes widened as Willow noticed the boy finally meeting Giles' stare, both Englishmen dissolving into a glaring match "—but it wasn't Will's fault, I mean it probably wasn't, I didn't see, just heard, that's all—Larry, see, he's really big, and Will's just really small, and the big have a thing for picking on the small and…I'm just not helping here at all, so I better go before I make things worse." Both the Slayer and Watcher's attention wavered from each other, staring at Willow in awkward silence. "Bye." She scurried away with a wave over her shoulder, and William couldn't help but feel that the door's closing sounded suspiciously like being sealed tightly in.
"Itwasavampire," the boy provided quickly, hoping to cut off any beginnings of a lecture with business. Given that Giles had adapted to William's sometimes jumbled quick babble, he understood for the most part, though he still stared for clarification.
"In the school." He went slower this time. Giles still stared.
The boy gave an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes: "You want more detail? Fine, but there's not much to tell; overheard gossip about a dead guy in the girl's locker room, went to check it out—lo-and-behold, my old friend, Mr. Caution Tape. No police on guard, probably takin' their lunch too, so got in easily; found the piece of gossip I heard wasn't embellished in the least, there was the 'totally dead' guy, tell-tale vampire marks on the neck."
Giles sighed, leaning against a chair and taking out his glasses for another dust-off. "Do you know if he'll rise?"
"No way I can tell if he sucked blood too." William was quiet now, having slipped out his stake, twirling it around. "Think I should stalk and wait for him to rise, then take care of him, or just chop his head off in the morgue?" Giles looked away from his gaze thoughtfully. (Julia's son looked so damn small.)
"We may have to leave this one be and look at the bigger picture."
"Now that's not ominous at all." He rubbed his eyes before placing his glasses back on; the boy's sarcasm was tiresome, but sometimes it was best to just let it drop.
&&&&&&
William had found Giles' explanation to be rather…lacking. ("All right, signs say that something's bad gonna happen here—it being a Hellmouth and all—but we don't know what; I'd go on, but you'll probably going to vague it up for me some more.") They argued, the boy returned to classes, went back to the library and didn't leave school at all until homework finished. From there, it was just straight to patrol, more arguing between him and his Watcher, vamps staked with no leads of everyone's impending doom. Finally, an awkward, quiet dinner back at the apartment. Giles seemed about to say something, so William quickly took his finished plate and rushed up the stairs to his room. The boy waited a moment, ears waiting for the sounds of encroaching footsteps should the man be determined enough to say whatever he had in mind; nothing, and William crept out his window carefully, climbing down the adjacent tree. (Such an architectural arrangement is a universal phenomenon.)
It was…nice, the walk, to say the least. The nightly darkness was pretty to look at, and the temperature was coolly comforting.
Angel kept the Slayer's scent trained, and his pace quickened.