Chapter 5

William strode down the street towards his apartment, lost in thought and oblivious to the cold February wind swirling around him. His leather jacket wouldn’t have been warm enough for a human but he didn’t feel the cold the way humans did. He didn’t feel anything the way bloody humans did! After all this time did Buffy really understand him so little? Did nobody understand how bloody hard these last nine months had been for him?

When the chip had been functioning, he’d had no bloody choice! He couldn’t kill, except demons. Rejected by his own kind, he’d had to live as a human or be alone. He’d gotten used to them, humans, and grown to love some of them, and tolerate the rest. But when Dru and Darla deactivated his chip, suddenly the world was full of choices again. Did Buffy think that when he turned down Dru’s offer to go back to his old life that it was final? That he had suddenly been reborn a ‘good’ vampire? Well he hadn’t. It was a constant struggle, against constant temptation. And sometimes he got so bloody tired of it. It didn’t help to know that Dru was just across the river, his old life waiting for him. And now the Riley factor. Just what he needed! Oh, people thought that Dru was insane, but William could always understand her twisted logic. Buffy had stolen something of hers, so she stole something of Buffy’s. Never mind that Buffy and Captain Cardboard were ancient history. Leave it to Dru to turn a poor git like Riley and make him her slave and then just leave him, alone and desperate. Why did that sound so bloody familiar? A horrible thought struck him. When he, William, had wanted to impress Dru, he’d killed his first slayer. It had worked too. Would Riley have the same idea? Bloody hell!

And now on top of everything he’d gone and lost his temper. When he’d left Buffy’s apartment, he had been so furious he had kicked over all the garbage cans on her street. Very mature. Lucky for Buffy’s neighbors that it wasn’t a fit night out for man nor beast. Who knows what he might have done if some little old lady had chosen that moment to walk her poodle? Sometimes it was nothing but blind luck that kept him on the straight and narrow. Eventually it had passed; the blind anger, the desire to kill, to show Buffy…to show her what? That he couldn’t be trusted? That she was wrong to leave Emily with him, to allow him to hang out with Dawn? That she was wrong to love him? Sometimes it seemed like he had come so far in the last 9 years, and sometimes, like tonight, he felt like he was still at sodding point A! How could he even think about getting married? Marriage was a human institution, and he wasn’t a bloody human. Ask Priscilla Scott, who thought of him like she would a chimpanzee dressed in a tuxedo. Oh look…he walks and talks just like a human! How clever! But people didn’t marry chimpanzees, did they?

With these gloomy thoughts, he reached his place on Broome Street, behind the offices of Big Bad Investigations. Pulling open the curtain that hid his door from the public, he entered his private apartment. What was had once been his haven, was now cold and empty. Dust coated every surface. He really hadn’t been here in months. He raced back into his office to check his machine. There were a few messages…it was their office number, though BBI was officially closed for the next three weeks, but none from Buffy. He went back inside. The place was so bloody quiet. With a six-year-old around, Buffy’s place was seldom quiet. Not to mention Dawn and Jason and their theater friends dropping by at all hours to do wash or microwave something or watch one of Jason’s art films. Sometimes he longed for the quiet of his life before Buffy had come into it. Well, here it was and he sodding hated it! He paced restlessly. He could have played one of his many DVDs or put some music that he liked on his state of the art entertainment system. But instead he paced. Then, suddenly he strode out of his apartment. There, on the coat tree near his office door hung his black leather duster, usually worn only when ‘Spike’ went demon hunting. He put it on, feeling comfort in the familiar smell of leather and tobacco. Checking the pockets for the pack of cigarettes and lighter he kept there for emergencies, he went back out into the night, slamming the door behind him.

Buffy scrubbed away at the black crust in her oven. Damn crap was welded on! Here she was expecting a house full of company tomorrow and she couldn’t get the oven clean. What would they think? Tears ran down her cheeks and she couldn’t wipe them away because her rubber gloves were full of oven cleaner and black gunk. Stupid to cry over a dirty oven anyway. What would Xander and Willow think when she couldn't produce a fiancé tomorrow? Much worse than a dirty oven. Buffy stood up and stripped off the rubber gloves and tossed them into the sink. The kitchen was as clean as it was going to get. If only her other problems were as easily solved. Oh, why had she gone into Buffy bitch mode? Why hadn’t she even tried to understand about Drusilla? She knew that vampires had ties to their sires that were beyond human understanding. Plus Spike and Dru had been together for over a century. Her own time with him was just a drop in the bucket. But she couldn’t help it, even the name Drusilla filled her with rage. So what did she do, but drive William out, possibly into the arms of the very spider herself…waiting there across the river in her web. Brilliant, Buffy!

God, she thought, these last nine months must have been so damn hard for him. He never said anything, but she could tell…the look he got in his eyes when they were close to some stranger, in the subway or an elevator. She could almost feel his hunger. She never felt it when he was alone with her, or when they were with Dawn or, God forbid, Emily. It was so unfair! He had come to accept his chip, accept the fact that he couldn’t prey on people. Now, suddenly he has to make that choice every day. The choice not to kill. And why does he do it? Because of me? Emily? Dawn? We are the people he loves. Buffy knew there were also people he liked, like Winnie, Tina, Willow and Xander et al, and people like Priscilla Scott that he merely tolerated. But what about the rest of the human population? How safe were they? And how could she even think of marrying a vampire if she was having these concerns?

And what about Riley? Dear, sweet, boring Riley, whom she had tried so hard to love. I guess his ‘thing’ for vampires finally caught up with him, she thought ruefully. Just thinking of Riley as a vampire filled her with horror and grief. All he had ever wanted was to be a hero. Well, at least now she could wipe the tears from her eyes.

Buffy took a shower. When she came out with wet hair and red eyes, she went and checked her answering machine. No messages. She sat down in front of the television. The place was so damn quiet. Even when Emily was asleep and Dawn was out, there was always William around, talking and commenting on every show. Well tonight, she could actually watch TV in peace. So what was on HBO tonight? Oh, perfect, Shadow of A Vampire! She hastily switched it off, and went to bed, damp hair and all, there to lie sleepless until she had to get Emily up for school.

New York was truly the city that never sleeps, thought William, as he made his way down the quiet streets. Even on a miserable night like this, there were people out, in the bars, pool halls, and nightclubs. A bloody moveable feast. He went into a bar, one of those yuppie hangouts that had proliferated in the Village in the 80s. They had become somewhat seedy again, now that the yuppies no longer came downtown at night. Slow Jazz was playing on the jukebox, like the soundtrack to a film noir. William had always loved movies, but now Jason, the film student, was teaching him all the terms. And here he was, the classic film noir anti-hero, lurking about in his black leather coat, looking for trouble. He sat at a table in the far corner, ordered bourbon, and lit a cigarette. A saxophone wailed. He sat watching the bar. A woman came in and sat down. She was young, with long red hair, maybe a college student or actress wannabe. William sighed. Was there no limit to human stupidity? Here they were on the new Hellmouth, and she was out all alone. Who knew what foul demon would find her a tasty treat? He continued to watch. Sure enough, within minutes, like sharks around a bloody foot, the creatures of the night began to surround her. The fact that these particular creatures were human didn’t make any difference.

William couldn’t quite hear their conversation, but he could read body language. The big burly guy to her right was invading her personal space, making her uncomfortable, and slightly afraid. William could almost smell the fear. He willed his face to stay human. He got up and strode casually over to the bar and ordered another bourbon, insinuating himself between the girl and her would-be suitor. The burly guy was taller than William by a good six inches and his arms; well they matched the rest of him. The girl up close wasn’t that pretty or that young. William could smell hair dye, cheap perfume and the scotch she was drinking. Still it was kind of late in the evening to be choosy. From long practice, he knew just what to say to a woman like this, how to turn on the bad boy charm. This kind of seduction had been his stock in trade in the old days. He took a deep, unneeded, breath.

"Mate, I think you’re botherin’ the lady here!"

The burly guy looked down at him like he was a bug. "Oh yeah?" was his witty rejoinder, "You plannin’ ta stop me?"

"Yeah!" he replied…no point on wasting his wit on this Neanderthal.

Burly Guy grabbed William by the neck of his tee shirt; "I don’t tink so."

"I do." Replied William calmly, then hauled off and slugged the guy right in the jaw, knocking him down. No pain, by God, in fact it felt flamin’ terrific! Burly Guy leapt up and dove at William who slugged him again, this time sending him across the room. At that moment, two things happened. The Burly guy’s two buddies, who had up until now kept a low profile, decided to join the fight, and the redhead decided that violence wasn’t her thing, and made a hasty exit. For the next twenty minutes, William was too busy dealing with the first event to even notice the second.

When he finally staggered into his apartment, just before dawn, William was bruised, bloody and finally at peace. Nobody had died, nobody was in jail...though he did face a rather hefty repair bill, and he finally felt ready to get married. Now if only his bride-to-be felt the same way. He flopped down on his bed. He would phone her in a few hours when he was sober, and a bit more coherent. He fell into a deep sleep.