On the Other Side
folder
BtVS AU/AR › Slash - Male/Male › Angel(us)/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
30
Views:
9,092
Reviews:
40
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
BtVS AU/AR › Slash - Male/Male › Angel(us)/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
30
Views:
9,092
Reviews:
40
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 13
Chapter 13
William stared into the mirror. Softly curling blonde hair, bright blue eyes, sharp cheekbones and a small chin. He looked…
“You look like her.”
”She looks like you.”
…like her. Always like her.
He felt…tired. Hurt. Used. Broken. Dead. William was dead.
William was dead and someone else had taken his place. Someone that didn’t look like his mother. He just had to be found.
He left the bathroom and crossed the hall into his bedroom, where he began rooting around in the floor of his closet. He surfaced, holding a wrinkled, faded, simple black T-shirt. He contemplated it for a moment, then decided it wpproppropriate, since people always wore black when someone died. He removed the only black trousers he owned, a pair of nice slacks, and laid his selections out on the bed.
He stripped and re-dressed in his chosen ensemble. The shirt was almost gray with use and fit like a glove – definitely not something William would ever be caught wearing – but it was appealing, in a way. The slacks… well, the slacks didn’t work at all. He’d have to stop by the thrift store and see if he could pick up some black denims. He didn’t even try on his shoes, since the only ones he had in black were dressy ones that his father had insisted he’d need. He slipped on a pair of thick, white athletic socks and padded down the hall to his father’s room.
Since the older man was out for the morning, he let himself in, stoically ignoring both the bed and the box next to it, and opened the closet. After a few moments, he found an old ratty pair of black sneakers that he supposed would work…at least until he could go and purchase some footwear of his own.
After a semi-satisfied look at himself in the closet mirror, he returned to his room and grabbed his wallet before exiting the house.
As he walked past a convenience store, he noticed a Marlboro advert. He decided to pick a pack up on his way home.
He found his destination and entered, taking a seat near the window and picking up a magazine, browsing through it idly. After a twenty minute wait, his name was called and he took a seat in front of a black-haired girl who had bold shocks of red running through rattratty locks. She gave him a questioning, yet painfully bored, look.
“Yeah, it needs to be short. Cut the curl off.”
The girl, Raven, according to her nametag, began fussing around him, fastening a smock around his neck and digging through a drawer to find her razor. He stared at the mirror, paying his last respects to William. Now he only needed a new name.
He tried on a smirk, evaluating it in the mirror. It would suit him well.
“…and bleach it.”
William stared into the mirror. Softly curling blonde hair, bright blue eyes, sharp cheekbones and a small chin. He looked…
“You look like her.”
”She looks like you.”
…like her. Always like her.
He felt…tired. Hurt. Used. Broken. Dead. William was dead.
William was dead and someone else had taken his place. Someone that didn’t look like his mother. He just had to be found.
He left the bathroom and crossed the hall into his bedroom, where he began rooting around in the floor of his closet. He surfaced, holding a wrinkled, faded, simple black T-shirt. He contemplated it for a moment, then decided it wpproppropriate, since people always wore black when someone died. He removed the only black trousers he owned, a pair of nice slacks, and laid his selections out on the bed.
He stripped and re-dressed in his chosen ensemble. The shirt was almost gray with use and fit like a glove – definitely not something William would ever be caught wearing – but it was appealing, in a way. The slacks… well, the slacks didn’t work at all. He’d have to stop by the thrift store and see if he could pick up some black denims. He didn’t even try on his shoes, since the only ones he had in black were dressy ones that his father had insisted he’d need. He slipped on a pair of thick, white athletic socks and padded down the hall to his father’s room.
Since the older man was out for the morning, he let himself in, stoically ignoring both the bed and the box next to it, and opened the closet. After a few moments, he found an old ratty pair of black sneakers that he supposed would work…at least until he could go and purchase some footwear of his own.
After a semi-satisfied look at himself in the closet mirror, he returned to his room and grabbed his wallet before exiting the house.
As he walked past a convenience store, he noticed a Marlboro advert. He decided to pick a pack up on his way home.
He found his destination and entered, taking a seat near the window and picking up a magazine, browsing through it idly. After a twenty minute wait, his name was called and he took a seat in front of a black-haired girl who had bold shocks of red running through rattratty locks. She gave him a questioning, yet painfully bored, look.
“Yeah, it needs to be short. Cut the curl off.”
The girl, Raven, according to her nametag, began fussing around him, fastening a smock around his neck and digging through a drawer to find her razor. He stared at the mirror, paying his last respects to William. Now he only needed a new name.
He tried on a smirk, evaluating it in the mirror. It would suit him well.
“…and bleach it.”