Part 1: Remembering in Dreams

“I know I left too much mess and/destruction to come back again/And I caused nothing but trouble/I understand if you can't talk to me again/And if you live by the rules of "it's over"/

then I'm sure that that makes sense./Well I will go down with this ship/And I won't put my hands up and surrender/There will be no white flag above my door/I'm in love and always will be/And when we meet/Which I'm sure we will/All that was then/Will be there still/I'll let it pass/And hold my tongue/And you will think/That I've moved on....” ~Dido, “White Flag”

I

He walked down the street slowly, his pace matching that of the boy’s. They moved hand in hand, and he occasionally looked down, watching as his son carefully avoided every crack in the sidewalk, humming some nonsense tune under his breath. ‘So beautiful,’ he thought.

It was late, dangerously late, his experience reminded him, but Ty had been having so much fun at the park, had begged for just a few more minutes so many times, that the sun had begun to set before he knew it. Erin would kill him if she were still around. Their hours had been crazy for the last few months. They’d eaten when they felt like it, slept when they felt like it. Ty no longer had anything resembling a normal bed time or schedule. But it had been what they both had needed, floating through the last months in a sea of grief. He had needed this time to re-establish himself in the land of the living, to remind himself why it was he still remained.

His reasons for being here, now, were complex and mixed. To anyone who had asked back in Newport, he’d easily explained. The house was too much, the shop was too much: echoes of Erin inhabited every wall, every nook and cranny. Every street he walked down had some memory of her. It had been overwhelming, and he felt the change of scenery would do both he and Ty good. That was the reason he gave out to friends and acquaintances. But in the darkest recesses of his soul, he knew there was more to it than that. The city itself called to him with its own siren song. If he hadn’t known better, he’d say he was being led here by something greater. Erin would have called it fate, and she would have understood in her own way. But her life had held him in the sea-side town just as her death had freed him to leave. And so two weeks earlier, he had packed everything up and come here, to L.A., hoping that he would somehow be able to find what he was looking for, even if he had no bloody idea what it might be.

He felt their presence before he saw them, and as always wondered if his sixth sense was left over from his previous life or if it was something more. In one swift motion he’d gathered Ty up in his arms and slipped down an alley. He had no weapons (stupid git) and the alley was not going to afford him any. There were three of them and one of him, and he had the boy to protect, so he shoved him behind a pile of garbage.

Ty’s eyes were wide with fear as he stared at his father. “Dad?”

“Stay here.” There was no room for argument in his tone, in the set of his jaw. He had little hope of saving either of them, but that was neither here nor there.

The vampires fanned out across the mouth of the alley, demons emerging as they realized their prey had some idea of what they were and what they were going to do. “Look,” the leader said, sneering. “Our meal was kind enough to bring dessert.” There were appreciative sniggers from the other two, but he didn’t even flinch, just gave a sneer of his own and launched himself into battle. He had nothing but his bare hands (“fists and fangs” echoed in his head), but he took them all on anyway.

And he would have lost if he’d remained on his own. The leader tossed him into the wall of the alley, and he was rapidly losing consciousness when two of the vampires exploded into dust. The third soon followed, and the looming form came to stand over him. His subconscious provided the name to go with the face, even though he would have passed the stranger on the street without a second glance. “Angelus?” And then as the darkness took him further down, he whispered, “Sire?”

To say Angel was shocked would have been the understatement of the century. Buffy had been very specific when she’d said Spike had died. In fact, she’d shed a few tears over him, and the vampire had a sneaking suspicion she shed more than a few when away from prying eyes. And while Darla had come back from the dead, somehow Spike’s reappearance was even more startling, maybe because he was at least reasonably human and most definitely not evil.

Angel sighed. His life was never simple. He knelt down next to the still figure of his former childe and ran careful fingers along his jaw line, finding his pulse strong and steady. He was about to pick him up and leave when he sensed another presence in the alley, also human. And—his enhanced senses told him—very young. “You can come out now,” he said as gently as he could. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The boy was perhaps four or five and small for his age, with dark brown hair falling over his forehead. Big blue eyes, the same color as Spike’s, stared at him in fear and wonder as tears spilled silently down round cheeks. He took a small, cautious step forward and looked at Spike, a small sound coming out of his throat. “Dad?”

Angel didn’t allow himself time to mull over that little piece of information. “He’s going to be okay,” he assured the kid. “Do you mind if I help him?”

The boy stared at him for a long moment, and then said with no little doubt. “My dad told me not to talk to strangers.”

Angel smiled slightly. A good policy, unless “dad” happened to be unconscious in an alley. “I’m not exactly a stranger,” he said wryly. “I’ve known your dad for a while now. I’m Angel.”

He seemed to consider this for a long moment, and then finally seemed satisfied. “I’m Ty,” he informed the vampire. “I’m five.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ty.” Angel looked at Spike and then sighed again. It looked like he wasn’t going to wake up any time soon, which meant he needed to get him out of here before any more vampires decided to try and snack on him. “Come on, let’s get your dad out of here.”

Angel picked the still figure up easily, and directed Ty to grab onto his jacket, wanting to be sure the boy was close. There were too many nasties out at night for his liking. Luckily, his apartment was only a few blocks away; he’d sold the Hyperion a while ago, not needing it as headquarters any longer.

Taking over Wolfram & Hart had been more successful than he had hoped for, even though there had been a fair number of kinks to work out. They’d managed to do a lot of good with the resources at their disposal, but Angel still enjoyed his late-night walks. The only problem with being the head of an organization as large as W&H, was that you never got to see the faces of those you were helping. Coming back to the streets, dusting a few vamps, allowed him to see their faces. And it made him feel good.

He glanced down at the boy, who had been walking silently next to him, throwing up anxious glances at his father. “Where’s your mom?” Angel asked quietly, not wanting someone at home to be worried about her family.

“She’s with God and the angels,” Ty said steadily, without a shred of doubt in his voice. Angel wondered if that was what Spike had told him (hard to imagine that) or if someone else had.

“I’m sorry,” he replied. “How long have you been here?” Angel was unsure of how much the boy knew, how much he would be aware of at his age. If all had gone well, he would have known. If Holtz hadn’t happened, Connor would be only a little older than Ty, and he might have known what it meant to be a father.

“Two weeks,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Dad said it was better to move because his memory wouldn’t hurt as much. Do memories hurt?”

Angel stole a look at the man’s pale face. “Sometimes they do.”

They arrived at his apartment building and he told Ty the code and how to key it in. He was obviously a bright kid, and he did as he was told easily. The apartment was on the fourth floor, and Angel managed to fumble the keys out of his pocket and open the door, letting the boy go in ahead of him, grateful that there had been no trouble on the way back. He laid Spike on the couch—Spike, who still hadn’t moved a muscle—and turned to Ty who had come to stand beside his father expectantly. “Is he okay?” he whispered. And Angel realized how frightened he must truly be, to have lost his mother and now for his father to have been hurt, fighting off what looked to be monsters. Saved by a stranger and brought to a strange place.

“He’ll be fine,” Angel replied, kneeling down in front of him. “He hit his head, so he’s sleeping right now, but he’ll wake up soon. Are you hungry or anything?”

Ty gave him a look that was half innocence, half pure deviousness. “Can we get pizza?”

Angel smiled at him. “We can get pizza.”

Even as they waited for the food, Ty didn’t say much of anything, just sat next to Spike on the couch, after a while laying his head down on his chest. The vampire found watching the two of them strangely disturbing. Well, heart-wrenching, really. Here was Spike, who had cut a swath through continents for over a hundred years. The only vampire in the history of the world who had managed to fall in love with a Slayer sans-soul, and then had gone out and got said soul for said Slayer. Died to save the world, and was rewarded with a new life and a son. Even though every bone in Angel’s undead body wanted to cry “not fair!” he knew it was. Somehow, deep within his tortured soul, he knew it was perfectly fair, because Spike had done what even he hadn’t managed to do in over a hundred years of soul-having: he’d attained redemption.

He took it back. It really wasn’t fair.

The pizza came, and Ty pulled away from his father for long enough to come and eat, digging in hungrily to pepperoni and cheese. Angel didn’t bother joining him; he’d never been much for human food. And then Spike began to stir.

The vampire moved towards him, but stopped when the other man called for his son. “Ty?! Ty—” Pizza was no comparison to dad, apparently, because the boy dropped his slice and ran into his father’s arms.

“Dad.” He pulled back from his father after a moment’s time to introduce his new friend. “Dad, this is Angel, and he said he knew you, and we got pizza, and he’s really nice, and he beat up the monsters. Dad—” He stopped when he saw the look on his father’s face, which had been drained of all color.

Angel watched as Spike shook his head, as though not quite believing what had happened. “You were supposed to be a dream,” he protested. “I thought it was all just a dream.”

There was a long silence, neither of them quite sure what to say, until Ty spoke again. “Dad?”

As if waking from a trance, the man who had been Spike turned to the boy. “’salright, luv,” he soothed. “Why don’t you go eat your pizza while Angel and I have a little chat.”

With Ty safely ensconced in front of the TV, contentedly munching on his pizza, Angel led the way out onto his balcony. “I don’t blame you for being a little shocked,” Angel began in a conversational tone. “Last I’d heard you were dead.”

“Spike is dead,” the man replied. “At least, that’s what I do remember.” The ghost of a smile flitted across his face. “All I remembered when I woke up was that my name was William and Spike was dead. I wasn’t even sure who Spike was at the time.”

Angel looked over at him. “But you know who I am.”

William shrugged. “Somethin’ inside me does, I s’pose. Told you, I didn’t remember much of anything. Wasn’t until after Ty was born that I started havin’ the dreams, and that’s all I thought they were. Till I saw you standin’ in there.” There was a long silence. “It’s true? I was a vampire?”

The older man was silent. He wasn’t quite sure what to tell this William about his past. What a shock to wake and find out every horrible thing you’d done, every nightmare that had haunted you, was true. To find out you hadn’t always been a man. “Yeah, you were.” He looked back into the apartment where Ty was sitting on folded knees, engrossed in some show. “He’s your son?”

“In every way that counts,” William replied. “I met his mum when she was about five months pregnant with him. She hadn’t a clue who the father actually was; she’d gotten a bit pissed at a party and didn’t remember what had happened. But we got on well, and she wanted someone’s name down for him, so I agreed.”

“You loved her,” Angel said flatly. It surprised him, somehow, to know that Spike—William—had moved on from Buffy after what he’d been told. At the same time, if he remembered nothing, how could it even be called “moving on?” “What happened to her?”

He sighed, looking out over the railing at the streets below them. “Her heart. She’d gotten a virus that damaged it and went into congenital heart failure. She was on the transplant list, but she had a rare blood type and they didn’t find the bloody match in time.” He paused. “And I loved her more than I can say.”

“I’m sorry.” And he was, he realized. Spike may have gotten his reward, but he’d also been hurt by it. “What will you do now?” he asked, suddenly curious. But it was more than that. Spike had been a part of him for well over a century, and Angel still felt a tenuous connection. Angel wanted to know this man, to know who he was after having been turned inside-out and upside-down.

“Damned if I know,” William admitted with honesty. “Find a job, take care of Ty. Beyond that I hadn’t really thought much, you know.”

Angel hesitated, and then took the leap. “Come work for me.”

William turned to face him, and for the first time the vampire found himself cataloguing the differences he saw there. Brown hair had replaced blonde. Pink had tinted dead flesh and lines had formed around the ageless eyes and mouth. He would be about thirty, Angel realized in shock, older than Angel had been when he was turned. And he’d always thought of Spike as younger. “I thought we hated each other,” he replied, truly surprised.

“Do you hate me?”

The bland tone drew a real smile to William’s face for the first time that night. He should be more shocked, he thought, coming face to face with his past as he had. He should be floored. Instead, he found himself acknowledging that some part of himself had always known. The dreams had always been too vivid to be mere dreams. “Not really, but give me some time.”

Angel found himself smiling as well. He really had hated Spike, and yet there had always been something about him, some spark that made him impossible to kill, even when he’d been Angelus. William’s calm face held it too; it was merely hidden better. “So come work for me,” he encouraged. “We’re family, after all.”

William looked back over his shoulder at his son again. He needed to find work, of course, but he’d made enough from the sale of the book store to hold him over for a while. What he really needed were other people, people he would be able to trust with his son should something happen to him. Erin’s death had brought his own mortality home, and if he should die Ty would be alone.

And as Angel had said, they were family of a sort. There was a good sized piece of him that wanted to find out everything he could about his past, to understand why he’d been brought back, what purpose he was supposed to serve. This vampire might have some of the answers. “Alright, then,” he found himself saying after a long consideration. “I could use the work.” And then after a moment he frowned. “And what exactly is it I’ll be doing?”

II

“Please tell me you’re coming with me,” Dawn pleaded. “It’s L.A., Buffy.”

Her sister shook her head. “I don’t know, Dawnie. It’s L.A. I’m happy doing this.”

Dawn wanted to shake her sister. Buffy had been on the move almost constantly for over five years now. Training other Slayers, visiting hot-spots, putting out demon-born fires, you name it, she’d done it. The younger Summers was beginning to wonder if she would ever settle down. “Angel is in L.A.,” Dawn pointed out persuasively.

“Angel and I aren’t together,” Buffy said patiently. “So I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “I thought Angel was supposed to be the love of your life, Buffy.”

“Angel and I are friends,” she replied. “Most of the time.” Buffy heaved a deep sigh. “I grew up, Dawn, and Angel’s soul is still a little bit chancy. At this point, there’s a snowball’s chance in hell of us getting together.”

“So he’s your friend,” Dawn said. “Look, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me, and you know that he would love to have you around. Instead of you going to trouble, trouble could come to you for a change. Besides, Willow’s going to be there this year too. It’ll be fun.”

Buffy smiled at her sister. Dawn really had blossomed into an incredible woman. For the last few years, it had mostly been just them, and they had come to rely heavily on one another. And now Dawn had gotten the opportunity to go to graduate school in ancient languages and archaeology. She was beyond proud, and would love to be close, but that would mean being in Los Angeles. It would also mean staying in one place, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to do that. Sunnydale had been her home, as much as she had hated it at times. And the man she had loved had died there, his soul pouring out in great beams of light. Moving around meant she didn’t miss him as much. At least, that’s what she told herself.

Maybe it was time, though. If only for a little while. “I’ll give it a shot, Dawn,” Buffy finally said. “I could probably use a vacation.”

III

Erin pulled her jacket tighter around her body, her curly dark hair blowing in the early October wind. It was late and getting dark, the heavy cloud cover obscuring the light from the setting sun. Her car had broken down the previous week, and so she had relied on her own two feet to get her to the book store and back, a walk of a mile and a half or so. In Newport, even an after-dark stroll wasn’t too dangerous, but she still felt the thrill of fear run up and down her spine as she walked past an alley. She murmured the old prayer her grandfather had taught her as a small child. “The good Lord protect us from ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggedy beasties and things that go bump in the night.”

Looking back later, she supposed that the good Lord was working overtime that day, because the things that came at her out of the alley never got a chance to sink their teeth into her neck, as they were so obviously trying to do. One minute two creatures were grabbing her and forcing her back into the darkness, and she was crying out in fear. The next minute they were dust on the wind, and a thin man in ragged clothing stood in front of her, a broken piece of wooden crate in his hand.

She stared at him, her heart still racing frenetically. “You okay?” he finally asked, as though pulling the words out of a deep well. Erin could tell he was having trouble focusing on her.

“Yeah, I think so.” Her heart began to slow, and her breathing was returning to normal. “Thank you.”

He frowned as though he was unsure of his next move. “Do—do you need an escort home?” he asked.

Erin smiled at the odd phrasing. “I could probably use one,” she admitted. He fell into step beside her, still silent. “I’m Erin O’Connell.”

The man beside her was silent for a long time before he said, “William.”

Erin’s eyebrows went up at his short answer. “No more than that?” she asked, her tone light.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “It’s—it was all fuzzy till I saw you. Don’t know much before that, but knew I had to save the girl.”

The way he said it, it sounded like a memorized line, something he’d said before. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?” Erin asked gently, knowing even as she did so that she was probably crazy. Sure the guy had just saved her life, but he was obviously a little off, and he was a complete stranger. Sane women did not ask strange, ragged men home with them.

But it felt right, and she remembered her grandfather telling her, as she was struggling with some long-forgotten decision, “You have a good heart, alanna. You follow your heart and you won’t go far wrong. And any mistakes you do make, they’ll be honest ones.”

Her grandfather had also taught her about debts of honor, and she owed William not only for her own life, but also the life of her unborn child. He was in trouble, and possibly friendless, and so she would do what she could for him.

William looked at her as though she had just gone insane, and she realized he probably wasn’t as off as she thought, just a little dazed from whatever had happened to him. “Why?”

“Because I owe you.”

The simplicity of her answer seemed to throw him, and she watched, fascinated, as he blushed and ducked his head. “I didn’t do anythin’ special, luv.”

“Sure you did,” she replied and stopped in front of a darkened building. “You can spend the night tonight, have a decent meal, get cleaned up. Tomorrow, if you’re still having trouble remembering things, we can call the police, see if there are any missing persons reports.”

He paused, considering her choice carefully, turning it over in his head. It seemed both right and wrong at the same time, but he realized the wrongness was in consideration for the woman’s safety and nothing else. He might not be the best person to bring home, but he no longer remembered why that might be. And then he suddenly realized that he was hungry and tired and cold, and wanted nothing more than to take her up on her offer, if only for tonight.

“Okay,” he finally replied, and Erin nodded, having waited patiently for his decision.

There was only about another hundred yards to go before they got to her apartment building, and she led him up the two flights of stairs to the third floor. She unlocked the door and entered, waiting for him to follow while William seemed to be waiting for something from her. “Did you change your mind?” she asked, bemused.

Hesitantly, he stepped through the doorway, a look of surprise on his face. It seemed as though he’d been expecting some resistance, and Erin had no idea what that might mean. “Come on,” she said quietly. “I’ll make us some dinner and then you can get cleaned up.”

William followed her into the kitchen, his blue eyes taking everything in at once, and Erin pulled out a can of Campbell’s Vegetable Beef soup as well as bread and cheese for sandwiches. “So you don’t remember anything at all?”

He stood, shifting from foot to foot, obviously uncomfortable. “No. I—I remember my name, and that Spike is dead, but nothing else.”

“Spike?” She frowned. “Your dog maybe?” It didn’t really make any sense, unless it was this death that sent him over the edge in the first place. “Sit down, please. You’re making me nervous.”

He obeyed her immediately, feeling slightly abashed. The cobwebs were beginning to clear from his mind, but he still felt oddly out of place, as though something were fundamentally wrong. “Dunno,” he admitted frankly. “Dunno what happened before I saw you in that alley, either. Just that I saw you, and suddenly I knew what I had to do.”

Erin nodded, considering his accent. He wasn’t American, by the sound of it. Or, at least he hadn’t been raised in America. There was nothing to say that he couldn’t hold dual citizenship. And it was slightly odd, really, since he kept alternating in between high class British and something close to Cockney, or what she considered to be Cockney. They were both silent as she continued preparing the meal, and when she put the bowl of soup and toasted sandwich in front of him, he fell upon it like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. For all she knew, he hadn’t.

When they had both finished, she put the dishes in the dishwasher and turned back to him. “Why don’t you get cleaned up?” she suggested. “I’ll see if I can’t find something for you to wear.”

He nodded. “Thank you. For the food.” His eyes were clearer now, she realized, and calm. It was as though he had centered himself, in spite of not knowing who he was.

“Of course,” she replied, and reached out to touch him on the arm. Suddenly, she felt blinded. It was a sensation she had never experienced, one that she could barely grasp even as it happened. It was as though she were on fire, and she could see him. Truly see him, and it was as though he were a great being of light and fire and beauty. It was like touching an angel.

“Let me—let me get some clothes,” she finally said, unsure if he had caught her reaction. Erin showed him to the bathroom and demonstrated how the taps worked. Then she went into her closet and started digging around. She’d only moved in a month or so before, and hadn’t yet unpacked everything. But most of what she had left in boxes were things she couldn’t bear to throw away.

The box labeled “Mark” was the one she was looking for. She pulled it out of the closet and begin to sift through the contents, trying to find clothing that might fit her guest. Her brother had been two years older, but they had been inseparable. When their parents died in a car accident, they’d both come to live with their paternal grandfather, an old Irishman with a touch of the Sight. She still remembered what he’d said to her the day they’d arrived on his doorstep. “Ah, alanna, you’ve got a hard road ahead of you, and so much loss. So much joy, but so much loss.”

Mark had dismissed his words with a laugh; he’d had a practical mind and didn’t much believe in the Sight or anything like it. But her brother had died at the tender age of 24 in an accident on the aircraft carrier he’d been stationed on. And her grandfather had died only a year later of a massive heart attack. And now she was all alone except for a baby on the way.

“Ma’am?” She turned to face William who stood in her doorway, a towel around his waist and a sheepish expression on his face. His hair was damp and curly from the shower, and she couldn’t help the bolt of pure desire that hit her somewhere below the belly. If touching him was like touching an angel, it no longer surprised her. Because right now he certainly looked like one.

“Sorry,” she apologized. “I was just remembering.” Erin held out the pair of worn green pants she’d found as well as a gray sweatshirt. “They were my brother’s.”

He looked at the clothing he held and his eyes met hers for a long moment. “I’m sorry.”

There was such compassion in his eyes, she wanted to cry, but instead she forced a smile and went to exit the room. “I’ll make up the couch for you. It should be fairly comfortable.”

“Thank you,” he said, and he touched her arm as she passed him. For an instant, she felt it again, and then it passed, and he was only a very ordinary man standing in her bedroom.

Erin smiled, a real one this time, and squeezed his hand, relishing the contact. She had truly been alone for too long. “You’re welcome, William.”

IV

“Did you know Angel hired a new guy?” Buffy asked her friend casually, going over her monthly budget with frown.

Willow looked up from the text she was reading. She’d been in England for the last several years, but had recently come back for an extended visit. “Angel’s company is huge, Buf. Angel’s always hiring new people.”

Buffy’s eyebrows went up and she tossed a letter over to the witch who quickly read it, intrigued. “William Smith, Vice President of Personnel and Special Projects. What is that supposed to mean?”

“I have no idea,” the Slayer admitted frankly, leaning back in her chair. “All I know is that if we’re in need of more muscle at some point in time, he’s the go-to guy. Unless it’s about me or my salary, in which case I still go to Angel or Giles. Apparently I’m not personnel, nor am I a ‘special project.’” She sighed. “It just seems odd that Angel would hire somebody out of the blue like that, especially if they’re going to be dealing with a lot of Slayers.”

Willow shrugged. “I don’t know, Buffy. He’s been handling things on his own for a while now, and he’s had a lot of responsibility. Maybe he finally got someone to help him.”

“Alone?” Buffy asked. “He’s got Wes, plus that other guy Gunn and Fred, of course.”

“But they’re all in charge of their own departments,” Willow pointed out, turning back to her text. “He probably wanted someone to help him out with all the stuff he gets stuck doing.”

“Well, I feel sorry for the guy, that’s for sure,” Buffy mumbled. “I’ve sort of worked for Angel for what, five years now? And he still drives me crazy.” She looked at the letter one more time, staring at the name. It just struck her as funny that Angel would hire someone she didn’t even know for a position like this. It wasn’t like he took on just anybody at W&H. It had to be somebody he trusted.

V

Diary Entry: July 2004

It really isn’t fair at all. You’d think my love life couldn’t get screwed up anymore than it is already, but no. My first date since that disaster with Robin a year ago, and the only person I could think about was Spike. It wasn’t that Kurt isn’t a nice guy, it’s just that as soon as I saw him I knew what Spike would be saying. “What a poof.” And he was. He was just so sensitive, so nice. In fact, he bored me to tears. Spike wouldn’t have bored me. I might have been annoyed as hell most of the time, but he never bored me. There would have been nothing predictable about a date with Spike. We probably would have patrolled, he might have thought up something completely off the wall. I would have been laughing most of the way through dinner, if I wasn’t ready to get up and walk out. And then we would have gone home and shagged each other silly until the sun came up.

And I would have been happy.

So here I am, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, who defeated the big evil and finally was getting her life on track, and I’m in love with a dead vampire. The worst part is that Spike was right, when I told him I loved him. I loved him, he was in my heart, but I wasn’t in love with him, and he knew it. He knew I wasn’t his and never would be, and that probably gave him the strength to sacrifice himself. Or at least it helped. No, I fell in love with him after he was dead. Every time I go out to fight and I make a really good move, every time I have to fight evil, I want to turn and ask his opinion, see if he saw what I did. I want to pull his ass out of the fire and yell at him about it. I want to fight until we’re both bruised and then make love for hours. I want him to believe that I’m in love with him.

VI

The knock on the door came right on time. “Can I get it, Dad?” Ty asked. William had yet to figure out why he liked answering the phone and the door so much, but he did. And because his son had already had a rough night, he nodded indulgently.

Ty swung the door open wide and squealed as he saw who was standing there. “Uncle Angel!”

The normally-serious vampire broke out into a wide grin as he swung the boy up on his back easily, Ty clinging like a monkey. “How’s it going, Ty?” he asked.

“Okay,” he replied, sobering for a minute as he remembered the earlier events of the evening, but then brightening again. “Will you play Dark Warrior with me tonight?”

William rolled his eyes at the pair. Like any 5-year-old, Ty was completely hooked on video games, and Angel was no better. Even if he was sworn to secrecy about the vampire’s dirty little habit. “Maybe later. Your dad and I need to talk about a few things.”

The little boy sobered, and his grip on Angel’s neck tightened just a little. The vampire shared a significant look with William and stepped further into the living room. “You want a beer?” William offered.

“That would be good.” Angel caught the beer tossed his way casually, coming over to sit down at the table. He settled Ty in his lap and watched as the other man took a seat across from him. “All right. What’s up?”

William’s jaw tightened. “Ty had a vision tonight.” He looked over at the boy apologetically. “You think you can tell Uncle Angel what you saw?”

Ty looked at his father unhappily. “Do I hafta?” he asked, his voice dangerously close to a whine.

“No, but I’d like you to if you can,” he replied quietly. Ty wriggled down from Angel’s lap and came to his father’s. No one but his dad would do if he had to talk about the monsters.

His voice trembled a little as he spoke. “There was a big monster an’ he was gonna kill people. He had big teeth and little red eyes and yellow skin. And horns. It was really dark where he was and I was scared.”

William gave his son a reassuring hug. “Why don’t you go play your game?” he suggested. “We’ll be along in a bit.”

Ty looked over at Angel as his father set him on the ground. “I did okay?”

Angel smiled. “You did great, Ty.” He looked over at William. “This hasn’t happened before?”

He shook his head. “No, this is the first time he’s had a vision. Erin told me her family had the Sight to a certain extent, but she said it had faded over time. There hadn’t been a true seer in her family for generations, and Ty’s great-grandfather was the last to have it in any measure at all.”

Angel looked grim. “He’s going to have to be protected, Will. If anyone finds out about that gift of his, he could easily become a target.”

William took a swig of beer, a bitter look on his face. “You mean even more than he is already?” He laughed, but it held no humor. “Bad enough that his father and favorite uncle have more enemies than there are stars in the sky, but now he’s seeing monsters. This isn’t what I wanted for him.”

Angel didn’t blame him for his anger. He’d be just as pissed off about the entire thing if it were his son, and it wasn’t hard to figure out that the boy’s gift made him that much more of a target. If someone wanted to go after Angel, as the head of Wolfram & Hart, it wouldn’t be hard to figure out that Ty was his greatest weakness. He thought the world of the boy. “You’re not alone in this, Will. You’ve got all the resources of the company behind you. And you’ve got me.” He laid a cautious hand on the other man’s arm.

They weren’t friends, even after five months of working together. Angel knew they were probably more similar than they ever had been in the past, but their differences were still vast. William was lean and lithe, Angel taller and bulky. The vampire still had the tendency to brood, William was generally cheerful, and about the closest he got to brooding was thoughtful. Angel’s idea of relaxation was meditating, or reading philosophy. William enjoyed a good soccer match or taking Ty to the park. If training, William could generally be found sparring with someone else, Angel preferred his solitary exercises for the most part. Angel was more of a loner, William more of an extrovert. Generally speaking, they had nothing in common.

But they agreed on three things: there was a lot of satisfaction to be had out of a good fight, evil was to be destroyed, and Ty was to be protected at all costs. And on those days when they were close to blows over some disagreement, it was Ty that held them both back. Because the boy adored his father and his “uncle” both.

William threw Angel a grateful look and managed a small smile. “Thanks, mate. It would’ve been harder if it were just me.” He looked at his son, who was now engrossed in a video game, and the look in his eyes was close to adoration. When he looked back at Angel, the vampire was also staring at Ty, but the look in his eyes was closer to naked longing, and William suddenly understood.

“What happened to him?” he asked.

“Who?” Angel replied, not comprehending.

“Your son.”

The vampire stared at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m not stupid, Angel,” William said, torn between exasperation and amusement. When the other man stayed silent, he went on. “The day Erin and I left the hospital with Ty, I passed a man in the hallway of the maternity ward. Seen him come in the day before, and I knew he’d lost his son. Still birth. When I passed him with my son in my arms, healthy and alive, he looked at me with such longing. Same look you have in your eyes when you look at Ty.”

Angel was quiet. No one knew about Connor, and he hadn’t told anyone about the deal he’d made to take Wolfram & Hart. No one was supposed to know, but for some reason he found himself wanting to tell this man. Maybe because William hadn’t been around when it was going on, maybe because he had known when no one else had. Maybe because he just wanted to tell someone so another person would know of Connor’s existence. And so, haltingly, he told his story.

“I’m sorry,” William said when it was all over. “Don’t think I could have done what you did. ‘m too selfish.”

Angel shook his head. “You could do it. You love him.”

“He’s partly yours, you know.” William looked over at him, the emotion in his eyes saying what he couldn’t. “Don’t ask me why, but he loves you.”

“Thanks.” They both looked over at Ty, who had fallen asleep on the couch in the middle of a cartoon. And they both silently vowed not to fail him.

VII

“Do you love me?” Erin’s voice broke the stillness of the early evening. William looked over at her from where he sat on the balcony, his blue eyes almost black in the fading light. His bare feet were propped up on the railing, and he held a bottle of beer in his hand.

The question seemed to come out of nowhere, and startled the truth out of him before he could even think. “Yeah. I do.” But he didn’t ask if she loved him in return; there was a part of him that feared her answer. Some part of him did not believe he could be loved.

She sat up straighter, a fire lighting her eyes. “Then marry me.”

His head whipped around and his eyes were wide. “Excuse me?”

“Marry me. I love you, William. I want to be with you.” She hesitated. “Unless you can’t, because—”

He shook his head. “No. I wasn’t married before. Of that I’m sure.” William found himself unable to tell her about the dreams that had begun after Ty’s birth. They had needed one another from the beginning; they were both alone in the world. The police hadn’t had any reports of a missing person matching his description, he wasn’t a wanted criminal, there was nothing to explain where he had come from or who he was. In the end, they had managed to get through the nightmare of paperwork that came with his new existence. And when she had asked him to help her in her bookstore as her pregnancy advanced, he gladly accepted. And when she asked him to be the father, it had felt exactly right.

But he and Erin had never discussed what their relationship was exactly. When the dreams began, he found himself silent on the matter, unsure of what they meant, but certain that it was nothing good.

“Is there someone else?” she asked.

He shook his head, looking off into the distance. “If there was, it was over a long time ago.” There was a long pause. “I dream sometimes. I don’t know if they’re memories or not, but I don’t think I was a good man, Erin-luv.”

Erin stood. William was the most real person she’d ever known. He was who he was, always. It was as though whatever had happened to him had peeled away all the masks most people wore. And she still remembered that moment when touching him had been like touching a living flame. “You’re a good man now,” she said with conviction. “And you’re a wonderful father. I love you.”

Surprise and delight lit his eyes. “Truly?”

“Truly. We can get married by the Justice of the Peace in a few days.” She reached out to caress his face. They had not touched much at all. She’d not wanted to be touched during her pregnancy really, and then after it had taken all their time and energy to take care of Ty and the store. But now their words had removed that barrier, and she couldn’t resist tracing the line of his jaw, the scar on his eyebrow, the bridge of his nose.

William cupped her cheek with one hand, pushed her hair back with the other. “Erin—” His lips covered hers and it was several minutes before either of them came up for air.

She suddenly grinned at him. “You know, I think we should get married as soon as possible. I don’t think I can keep my hands to myself for very long.”

A rare, slow smile pulled his lips. “Then let’s get it done.”

VIII

He had told no one when the dreams changed. It had been just after Erin died, soon after he’d met up with Angel and started his new job. Not that he didn’t still have the ones he now recognized as memories, but sometimes, once or twice a week, he would have the others. And in those dreams he was on a beach with her, and they walked together, and she told him that she missed him. And in one memorable scene she’d told him she’d fallen in love with him. In those dreams he was Spike again, with all the memories that went along with it. In those dreams he was whole, and he burned for her.

And when he woke up he remembered that Spike was dead and that she surely hated him, because she had no reason not to, even if she hadn’t a clue as to his existence. On those mornings, he wept.

IX

“Mr. William, you have someone waiting for you.” The secretary’s voice came through the intercom clearly, and he frowned. He knew he didn’t have an appointment for the afternoon.

“Who is it, Shelly?” he asked.

There was a pause, and then she replied, a disapproving note in her voice. “She says her name is Mary Elizabeth Carletti. She’s been here for two hours already and refuses to leave unless she sees you. Should I call security?”

William lifted one scarred eyebrow. This was odd. It was rare that a visitor would even be able to get through the front lobby without an appointment, but that they would actually be able to reach the inner offices? He found himself wanting to meet the person that had managed it. “No, that won’t be necessary. Go ahead and send her in.”

The girl wasn’t what he expected for sure. She was perhaps 17 or 18 and certainly underfed, with dark eyes and shaggy dark hair. She was dressed in what was probably her best clothing, even though it was shabby. William pegged her for a street kid immediately, and if she wasn’t right at the moment, she had been recently. “Can I help you?”

Mary Elizabeth Carletti’s chin came up defiantly as she heard the doubt in his voice. “Yeah. I came to see you about a job.”

“I think you’d want to go through the personnel department for that,” William said, with some amusement. He might be the personnel director, but that was just a fancy way of saying that he took care of what Angel didn’t want to. William was the people-person, after all.

“I think you know my resume wouldn’t get past the front door,” she replied belligerently. “I heard this was the place to go if you wanted to fight the monsters.”

“And you do?”

“Yeah, that’s right. I been fighting ‘em since I was 13, and I’m stronger and faster than most of the guys you got here, I bet,” she replied, and William suddenly felt his heart ache for the shabby teenager with the defiant chin and scared eyes. She was just a kid, and he could smell her desperation from across the room.

“Why don’t you have a seat, Miss Carletti,” he suggested gently. “And then you can tell me why you came to me.” Suddenly he could sense it. He couldn’t always, and Angel was better at it, but he could usually tell a Slayer when he saw one. There was a hidden power to them, and this girl reeked of it.

“It’s Emmie,” she said. “That’s what my friends call me.” She sat cautiously. “Look, I know this is crazy, but word on the street is that you guys help people, and I can fight. I just need a job, and I thought if you helped people you could help me find one.”

He smiled. “How long have you been able to fight?”

“Since I was 13,” she said, relaxing a little now that she knew the man behind the huge oak desk wasn’t going to have her thrown out. “One day my dad was whaling on me and the next day I tossed him out the door. Then I left. Look Mr. William, I’ll do anything.”

Emmie was desperate; that was the honest truth. She needed to get off the streets. She’d been able to keep herself clean and out of trouble, but times were getting harder and she couldn’t panhandle like she used to anymore. The kids’ shelters were starting to look at her askance and the women’s shelters were usually full. So today she’d gathered up every bit of courage she had, dressed in her best and cleanest clothing, and walked in here fully expecting to get kicked out. And instead she meets this guy with the kindest blue eyes she’d ever seen. That he was hot and had a great accent only increased the attraction.

“Call me William,” he replied. “I’ll be honest with you, Emmie. We’ve got fighters; we don’t need any more. You got any other skills? Interests?” He had no intention of sending her back out onto the street. Angel had a special fund for Slayers, but he wanted to test the girl’s mettle.

She shook her head. “I didn’t finish high school, but you probably already knew that. About the only thing I know how to do is fight.” And then, almost as a second thought, she added, “I like kids though. Always thought I might want to be a teacher.”

William paused. He and Angel had talked about getting a nanny/bodyguard for Ty. He had been unwilling to put his son in the hands of some neanderthal, but he hadn’t really thought about hiring a Slayer to look out for him. If she liked kids, and Ty liked her, it might be a match made in heaven. Ty got a nanny, and he got the assurance that there was someone looking after him that was capable of tackling vampires and demons.

“Wolfram & Hart has a special fund set up for girls like you, pet,” he said. “So don’t worry about that just yet. But I might have a job opportunity for you. What would you think of a position as a nanny, provided you and the kid get along?”

She stared at him for a long time, and then hope began to light behind her eyes, an expression that hadn’t been there for years. “You mean it?”

“I never say anything I don’t mean, luv,” he replied with an answering smile.

“Then I think I’m in,” she said. And for the first time in years, she wasn’t afraid.

X

Buffy saw him, standing on the sand, the light falling full on him. He had been handsome in the moonlight, but she loved seeing him in the sun. The only other time he’d looked like this had been in the cave, and the light had been from his soul.

He wore dark jeans and a light blue sweater and was barefoot, and she found it odd to see him wear such clothes. And yet, she might have seen it before if she hadn’t made that stupid speech that had sent him back into his old costume before the end. Would she have said those things if she’d known there was so little time left? Would she have spent that last night with him differently? Would she have said those three little words then so that he might have believed it at the end? It was hard to tell.

He turned to face her, and she realized his hair was different. Longer, though still bleached, it was shaggier, the dark roots showing clearly. “Hello, Spike.”

“Hullo, Buffy.” He smiled at her then, the skin around his eyes crinkling at the corners, and she saw that he was older, though she wasn’t sure why that would be. Because this was a dream, surely he should look the same as when she’d last seen him.

She came to him then, shyly. “I missed you.” The air hung heavy with all that she could not bring herself to say, even in a dream. He cocked his head in the old way he’d had, and she felt the sense of aching loss welling up inside. “I missed you so much,” she suddenly cried, the pain needing to go somewhere.

“Oh, luv, I’m right here,” he said, and then she was in his arms again, and he held her as he had in those last days. “I’ll always be here for you, Buffy,” he whispered against her hair. “Always. Just find me.”

When she woke, her cheeks were wet with tears.

“you don't remember me but i remember you/i lie awake and try so hard not to think of you/but who can decide what they dream?/and dream i do.../i believe in you/i'll give up everything just to find you/i have to be with you to live to breathe/you're taking over me/
have you forgotten all i know/and all we had?/you saw me mourning my love for you/and touched my hand/i knew you loved me then” ~Evanescence, “Taking Over Me”

I

William grinned as he moved through the fight easily, gracefully. He was already up to five kills, which was surely better than Angel would do on this night. Which meant that the vampire would be the one buying the drinks. He got two more vampires, one right from underneath Angel’s nose, and his grin broadened as the vampire realized what he’d done. “Seven,” he said smugly, and laughed as Gunn clapped him on the shoulder.

“My man, Will! Way to go. My count’s six.” The black man looked over at Wes, waiting for his numbers.

“Also six,” Wes said, perfectly content. “Angel?”

“Four,” he mumbled sourly. William had started the contest, which pissed him off. It was fun enough on the nights he wasn’t on the tail end, but William typically managed at least one more kill. Beating him by three meant William would be insufferable for the next few days.

“I guess we know who’s buying the drinks,” Gunn said with a grin. He’d yet to come in last and was enjoying the friendly rivalry. Angel was the only truly sore loser.

Angel finally managed a sick grin. “I’m going to have to take a rain check,” he said, trying to sound regretful. “I’ve got work to do.”

The other three men looked at each other and then shrugged. “Fine, mate,” William said. “Next time you can buy two rounds.”

The nest of vampires they had just cleared out had been a nasty one, and they’d been alerted to it by one of Ty’s visions. Typically, none of them handled the day-to-day things, the little battles. But they had all worked very hard to keep Ty’s gift a secret, and so it was the core group that handled what the Powers sent their way and no one else. Fred might join them, but she was usually content to stay in the research and development labs, working up new gadgets to send with them. Emmie almost always wanted to come, but tonight she’d stayed with Ty, who’d been sick and hadn’t wanted anyone else to stay with him.

“I think I’ll head home then,” Gunn said, with a wave to William and Wes. “I’ll see you guys at the office tomorrow.”

“You want a drink?” William offered. “I should send Emmie home, and we still need to finish that chess game.”

Wes nodded. “Yes, that would be nice I think. I could use some time to unwind.”

Emmie stood to greet them when they came in. “So, who won tonight?”

“I did,” William replied, grinning broadly.

She smiled back. “Good for you. Next time you should let me go beat Angel and you can stay home with the kid.” But there were no hard feelings in her voice. One thing every member of the group understood was that Ty’s protection was just as important as any other job, even if it did look a lot like babysitting.

“How is he?” William asked, and for the first time that evening he allowed his deep concern to show.

Emmie shrugged. “He ate mac and cheese for dinner, played a few video games, and was back to his normal self by bed time. Ty’s a resilient kid, Will. You shouldn’t worry so much.”

“That’s like telling the sun not to rise,” Wes commented, and William gave him a rueful smile.

“He’s my life.” William smiled at the Slayer. “Go on home. I’ll make sure Ty gets to school tomorrow and meet you at the office.”

“Where I will continue my training.” Emmie rolled her eyes at Wes, her unofficial Watcher, who merely lifted an eyebrow in return, long since used to the peculiarities of Slayers.

Fifteen minutes later, both men were enjoying a Guiness and a different sort of battle in their long-running chess game. “So when are you planning on asking Fred out, mate?” William finally asked into the silence.

Wes gave him a dirty look. “What makes you think I was even considering it?”

“Maybe the moon eyes you keep using on her?” he asked with amusement. “Anyone can tell you have a yen for her, Wes.”

The Watcher shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way, William. There’s too much history there.”

William rolled his eyes. “Please. And she’s not looking at you like that all the time? Whatever soddin’ history is there is just that: history. I’m tellin’ you, if you don’t ask her out soon, someone else will jump on the chance and you’ll be left in the cold.”

Wesley looked acutely uncomfortable. “I don’t think—”

“And that’s your problem,” William interrupted. “You’re thinkin’ about it. You need to just do it. Love isn’t about brains, it’s about blood, feelin’.” When the other man still appeared uncertain, he continued. “Here’s what you’re gonna do, Watcher. ‘m takin’ Ty and Emmie to Lorne’s new show on Friday night. You ask Fred if she wants to come along with our group, we’ll make it an early evening, and you two’ll be alone. Rest is up to you.”

“Wait a minute,” Wes replied with a frown. “You’re taking a seven-year-old to a lounge?”

“Boy’s a part of this whether I like it or not,” William said softly. “If I can’t give him the ideal of a normal life, I want him to feel this is as normal as possible. It’ll be better that way.” He smiled wryly. “Besides, can’t pretend everythin’s normal when his favorite uncle’s a vampire an’ his dad’s an ex-vamp, now can I?”

Wes nodded. “You’re doing a good job with him, William. He’s an incredible boy, considering what he has to go through on a regular basis.”

“Which reminds me,” William said, moving one of his knights, “when did you teach my son how to magically unlock things?”

Wes winced. “When did you find out?”

“Yesterday, from Emmie.” William grinned at Wes’s obvious discomfort. “She forgot her keys and he unlocked the door for her. Is there anything else you taught him?”

Wes sighed. William’s dislike and distrust for magic was legendary, and he wasn’t surprised that the man was angry with him, but he’d had very good reasons for what he’d done. “Other than how to unlock a door? I also taught him a spell that will produce light. I didn’t want to go behind your back, but I didn’t think I’d get your permission either. And both spells will certainly come in handy if he gets into a tight spot.”

William’s face darkened. “He’s not going to get into a tight spot.”

“Emmie can’t be with him all the time, Will,” the Watcher pointed out gently. “I pray that it will never happen, but it’s entirely possible that something could, and in either situation being able to perform a few simple spells may allow him to save his own life.” When William was silent, Wesley continued. “I taught him what I did for the same reason you’re taking him to Lorne’s on Friday. To prepare him for what his life will be. Like it or not, he didn’t have much of a choice, and neither did you, but he has a real chance. Just think, Will, who his teachers are, what he can learn by the time he’s of an age to use what he knows. He’ll be a real force for good.”

“You’re right, of course,” William said. “But it galls me to see him already having to think about his own defense, to know his life will be in danger constantly. He’s my son, Wes, mine to protect.”

“He’s all of ours to protect,” Wesley corrected him gently. “There isn’t any one of us who wouldn’t lay down our lives for him. You know that.”

William did know that. What’s more, he also knew the background on it, knew that there had been another little boy that they had not been able to protect. And he knew that Wesley had once betrayed Angel because of his protective instincts. He often wondered if they didn’t all know about Connor somewhere deep inside themselves, where instinct and feeling lived, if not memory. If, perhaps, Ty was a symbolic replacement for Angel’s lost son. In a way, William supposed, there was no way he would not be.

“I know that,” he replied, thinking that there was an empire of love that existed only for his son. It was a comforting thought.

II

“Oh, come on, Will. It’s my birthday, Angel has Ty all night, and I want to go out!” Emmie gave him her best pleading look, well aware that his ability to resist was rather low.

William sat back in his chair and looked at the girl seated across from him fondly. She’d changed in the three years she’d worked for him. Emmie was a terrific fighter and an excellent nanny, with a quick wit and a sharp tongue. She’d put on weight and muscle, and her lean, tall frame was well-rounded and absolutely solid. What’s more, she’d managed to nanny Ty full-time while finishing up her GED and training as a Slayer with Wes and the rest of the gang. He was proud of her, and glad that his instincts had been absolutely right.

“An’ what about the others?” he asked, already beginning to cave. “S’pose I’m the only one available tonight.”

She shook her head. “No, but you’re probably the only one who’ll go with me to get my tattoo. In any case Fred and Wes are taking Ty the next couple days so I have some time off. And Gunn’s taking me on an assignment he has on Friday night.” Her eyes danced. “He’s even letting me pick my own weapons.”

‘Only a Slayer,’ William thought fondly to himself. “And this is Angel’s regular night to have my son. So what’s he doin’ for you?”

Some of the sparkle left her face. “He gave me a card.”

“He what?” William asked, and then rolled his eyes expressively. Sometimes Angel could be a complete prat. Which, of course, was why William was the people person of the group. A little charm could go a long way. But still, Angel and Emmie were at least friends. “He’s a git, luv. Actually, a card from the great poof is better than most get from him.”

“Unless you’re Ty, and then he spoils you rotten,” she replied, smiling. William didn’t say anything to that, knowing the exact reasons why Angel was so intent on making Ty happy.

He gave her a look, holding out for just a minute longer. “And tell me again why you don’t have more friends your own age, pet.”

“Because then I’d have to explain that my boss is an ex-vampire who fights evil, my kid has visions regularly, I’m a Slayer, and my boss’s boss is a real vampire,” she said sweetly. “And even if I skip all that, and go for the shortened version of nannying for some big-wig executive, I would still have to explain that I spent five years living on the streets and that I would be happier if I never saw my family again. Then people look at me like I need to be pitied rather than like I’m crazy. Take your pick.”

“The life of a Slayer is never easy,” William intoned solemnly, already beginning to put his things away. Then, lightening up, he said, “But at least here you know you’re among friends since we’re all bloody freaks.”

Emmie smiled. “Why do you think I spend all my time here?”

She winced only once, when the needle first went into the skin. And when William asked if she needed a hand to hold, she simply grinned at him. “Feels kinda neat, actually.” Her grin changed into a smirk. “So why don’t you have one of these?”

He raised the scarred eyebrow and went back to watching the artist work, fascinated at how the skin took the ink. “Because I have an eight-year-old who would love one, and I’d have to explain that he has to wait another ten years.”

“The things we do for love,” Emmie said mockingly.

“Besides,” he continued, “what would I get? Like yours, luv, but it wouldn’t do for me.”

Emmie snorted. “I never saw you as the butterfly type of man, either, Will.” Her tattoo was the size of his palm on her right shoulder, and was a stylized butterfly emerging from a cocoon. It was both pretty and powerful, something she’d designed herself, liking the symbolism. But William was right. What would he get? For all that he had made a life for himself, Emmie knew better than anyone that he was still very much a blank slate. In many ways, he was little older than his son, having been reborn but a few months before Ty’s birth. And she was well aware that beneath the devil-may-care, charming exterior lived an insecure man with deep doubts as to his worth and general ability to do anyone any good. He was very much himself, but there was still a piece missing.

“You design the piece yourself?” the tattoo artist asked. She had introduced herself as Lavender.

“Yeah, why?” the Slayer asked.

Lavender smiled. “Because it’s good work, kid. You let me use it, I’ll give the tattoo to you free. I’m always looking for new designs.”

“Really?” Emmie asked, taken aback.

“Sure,” she said. “You come up with something else, bring it in and I’ll pay you for it. Maybe not a lot, but it’s a little extra cash in the pocket.”

Emmie looked over at William. “What do you think, Will?”

He shrugged. “Do what you like, pet. It’s your work.”

Emmie made the deal, and once Lavender had put the finishing touches on the butterfly, they left, looking for a different kind of entertainment. “How does it feel?” William asked.

“Like a sunburn,” she replied. “It’s not that bad. But now, you’re going to buy the drinks.” Emmie grinned at him, and he smiled in reply, glad to make her happy. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to be out with a woman, where your only job was to make sure she had a good time and got home safely. And since he genuinely enjoyed Emmie’s company, he didn’t mind helping her out at all.

So he paid for the drinks and watched to make sure she wasn’t letting inexperience take her further than she really wanted to go. But she held her alcohol well, and they’d hit three bars before they headed back to the apartment building. She’d taken an apartment two floors up from his, mostly out of convenience, and since they both desired their own space it had been a perfect arrangement.

William showed her up to his place, wanting to make certain she wasn’t going to be sick. He figured if he was the one paying for the drinks she got drunk on, he should stick around till the end. But Emmie seemed alright, and she was sobering fairly rapidly. He’d had a couple beers, but he didn’t drink much these days. It might have been different in the past, but these days he had a job and a son to think about, and that changed a man.

“Do you miss her?” Emmie asked, out of the blue.

He looked over at her in surprise. “Miss who?”

“Erin.”

He sighed. “Yeah, s’pose I always will in some way.” He stared off into the distance, not even trying to put what he felt into words. Because the loss of Erin was painful, but behind it lay a deeper pain, of another loss, one he didn’t have the words to name. He plopped down next to her on the couch. “Have a good time tonight, pet?”

“I did.” She stared at him through dark eyes, and her tanned hand reached up to brush a lock of hair from his forehead. “Thank you. For everything, you know.”

“Didn’t do much, luv,” he said, brushing off her thanks.

She shook her head. “No. You saw me when I couldn’t even see myself.” And then she leaned in and placed her lips on his. For a moment, everything was fine. The kiss deepened, and he brought his hands up to caress her face, and then, at the same instant, they both pulled away.

“Uh, yeah,” Emmie said, a slightly disappointed look on her face. “That was—”

“Like kissin’ your sister,” William replied, a hint of frustration in his eyes. And then they looked at each other, and both of them lost it at the same time, laughing until their sides hurt.

“Damn,” she gasped when she finally had enough breath to talk. “And I thought you had a crush on me.”

He stared at her. “What? I got told you were the one that had a crush on me.” That set them off again, until he finally stopped and looked at her. “So what was that, luv?”

“That was me trying to take the easy way out,” she admitted. “It’s just that you’re a great guy, and I like you, and I love your son. I figured it would be a perfect match.”

“And you thought kissin’ me would—”

“Make sparks, and I would find you irresistable.” Emmie groaned. “So I’m an idiot. Just shoot me now.” And then she narrowed her eyes. “You kissed back,” she pointed out.

“Probably for the same reasons,” he admitted. “Thought it might work.”

Emmie lay her head on his shoulder. “So we’re still good?”

“Probably better,” he admitted. “Now there’s no wondering.” William looked at his friend. “You want to tell me who he is?”

She closed her eyes. “You’re too perceptive,” she complained.

“You’re the one wanderin’ around, daydreamin’.”

Emmie frowned. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling slightly. “Cross my heart, an’ hope to die.”

A smiled lifted her own lips. “It’s Angel.” At the silence that followed, she opened her eyes to look at him. “Like I said, just shoot me now. I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” he said gently. “An’ you’re not the first. I’m sorry.”

“So am I,” she admitted. “I never wanted to fall in love with him, you know. And he barely acknowledges my existence.”

“No one ever said love was logical, Mary Elizabeth,” William said.

“Who is it for you?” she asked. “Because you talk in your sleep.”

“Nosy chit,” he said fondly. “If there’s anyone, it’s the one I dream about.”

“Buffy?” she asked quietly. She knew all about Buffy. Most every new Slayer, when they found out who and what they were, heard the story. How, to save the world, the Slayer had managed to activate every potential Slayer. And, incidentally, how a souled vampire had sacrificed himself to prevent the opening of the Hellmouth, thus sealing it off for all time. What Emmie knew that most people didn’t, was that said vampire was now Mr. William Smith, the man who kept track of their whereabouts and status.

He shook his head, a gesture at odds with his next words. “It’s bloody useless, you know. She doesn’t know I’m alive, and even if she did, she probably wouldn’t care. She’s well rid of me.”

“How can you say that, Will?” Emmie demanded. This was a side of him she’d often seen, but knew no one else did. “You died. You saved the world. There’s a lot to be said for that. Whatever happened between the two of you, surely she’s forgiven you by now.”

“There are some things that are unforgivable,” he murmured, and concern bloomed on her face.

“Maybe you should let her decide that. You’ll never know how she feels unless you let her know you’re actually alive,” Emmie pointed out.

He shook his head again. “If she finds out, I’ll deal with it then. But I’m not forcing myself on her.” And he winced as he said the words, as though there was something deeper there. Emmie sighed. She knew that William’s memories, or rather his dreams, were spotty at best. She also knew that he remembered nothing about getting his soul, or how he died. He had very vague memories of being human, but his dreams were filled with violence. It was no wonder he felt as he did, but she couldn’t help but think he was wrong. The story she’d managed to wring from Wesley said that Spike, the vampire William had been, had gone off to get his soul on his own volition.

If Emmie had a better idea of Buffy’s reaction, and had a prayer of escaping William’s wrath, she would have told the Slayer herself. But perhaps Will was right, and the Slayer hated him. In that case, it was better to let things be. But she also knew that it had been several years since Buffy’s last visit to Wolfram & Hart, just before William had reappeared. She had a feeling deep in her gut that such an absence wouldn’t last for too much longer.

And then the shit would really hit the fan.

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