Cause and Effect

Thanks Butch! : ) This one's for you.


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Chapter Fourteen
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Half asleep, contented, William's world narrowed to the human warmth that surround him, the borrowed warmth coiling inside him, and the residual taste of hot blood on his tongue. The barely heard thumping of Xander's heart was a comforting counterpoint to the quiet purring from his own chest, lulling him. Each time Xander allowed him to feed, the abiding ache throughout his body lessened that much more, and while he still felt weak, helpless, and the clothing he wore rubbed against still raw skin, he could almost feel his wounds healing.

William sighed quietly, uneasiness weaving through him. Part of him questioned the comfort, the good fortune that seemed to be his. Every instinct told him it was all too good to be true, and he was wary of believing in it. He'd already messed up twice, angering Xander. He simply wasn't capable of being good. Which meant, it was only a matter of time before Xander, too, threw him away.

//Because you don't matter; you're less than nothing. You're *just* the paper the words are written on -- the paper that gets thrown away once the message has been read.//

William sat up abruptly, then winced. Swallowing his fear, he edged himself off the couch, thankful that Xander hadn't woken. He gasped quietly, biting his lip to keep from crying out as his shin compacted noisily against the coffee table he *should* have remembered from earlier. He half-turned in Xander's direction, listening, wishing he could see him. He pictured dark hair. He wasn't sure quite why, but wondered if he was right.

Raising a hand, he ran his fingers lightly over the bandages covering his eyes -- half his face, really. He was sorely tempted to remove them; he ached to see if his eyes were anywhere near healed -- they certainly *itched* enough.

They hurt, too. That had to mean there was something there, didn't it -- more than the empty eye sockets he'd pulled blood-slicked wood balls from? How could empty space itch, or hurt? How could it feel *anything*?

Dropping his hand, he did nothing. Xander had put the bandages there, and there they would stay until he removed them. Bending slightly, he trailed his fingertips along the edge of the low table, carefully making his way around it -- restless, despite the injuries that begged him to stay still. The corner of the table gave him pause; beyond it, there was nothing but air to guide his steps.

He almost growled, his continued unrelenting fear of . . . well, everything, was beginning to anger him. He knew without doubt that there was more to himself than this. He just had to *remember*. Trying to, however; put him up against a foggy wall he couldn't see past, a wall that radiated pain and misery. Shuddering, he stopped trying. He just needed more time, that was all -- heal the outside, then worry about the inside.

With a deep breath, necessary only to give himself courage, William straightened and took a tentative step into the unknown -- and dropped straight to his knees with a strangled cry.

Behind him, William barely registered Xander's startled 'Wha?!', his entire focus on the intense pain radiating from his foot. He could taste the blood from his lip; he'd bitten through it in an effort not to scream. Hand shaking, he reached toward his unseen foot.

"Oh fuck, Spike! Don't touch it; I'll be right back."

William jerked his hand back, turning toward the sound of Xander's voice, at the same time, flinching back from the wave of horror he felt from the human. "Not Spike," he muttered, sagging in defeat as he realized Xander had already moved away, and most likely hadn't even heard his denial. He could hear Xander muttering under his breath as he rummaged, the distinctive sound of drawers and cupboards opening and closing almost drowning out the already unintelligible words.

**Worthless, that's what I am,** he thought. **Can't remember, can't be myself, certainly can't be a vampire. I mean, aren't vampires mean? I can't even walk across the room without hurting myself.** He quickly shoved the thoughts down as he heard Xander returning, certain that if the human knew what he was thinking he could only agree. He knelt down next to William, and the vampire wanted nothing more than to drown in the heat he could feel from the human's body. It was everything good and right in his world. It was almost enough to block out the bad, and he craved that with every fiber of his being. He wanted so much to believe in it -- to *trust* it.

"Okay," Xander said quietly, resting a hand on William's ankle, "this is going to hurt a bit."

William tensed instantly, unable to stop the smallest of whimpers from escaping his throat. He was *so* tired of hurting.

"On the count of three, okay?"

William nodded automatically, all set to count along with Xander.

William screamed.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Xander chanted as he firmly clasped his hand around the new wound.

William panted, willing the pain to just *go away*. "What happened to counting?" he asked, hating the petulance he could hear in his own voice.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry, but I thought maybe, if it happened before you expected, it wouldn't hurt quite so much."

"You thought wrong!" William snapped, then ducked. "Sorry."

Xander sighed. "Don't be."

William flinched away from the hand that gently caressed his cheek, but leaned back, resting against the touch as it dawned on him he was not going to get hit for lashing out.

"What did I step on?" he asked after a moment, wondering what could possibly have hurt so much, intently ignoring the hand tightly gripping his wounded foot.

"A piece of glass."

William jerked his head around, staring in the general direction of Xander's voice. "A piece of glass?" he asked flatly, disbelievingly.

"Well, it's a *big* piece of glass, a shard really. It, um, went clear through your foot."

Mollified, sort of, William nodded. "It's stopped bleeding."

"Huh? Oh, right," Xander replied absently, slowly lessening his grip. "You're right," he exclaimed. "How'd you know?"

"Could smell it."

"Oh! Of course. Should have realized," he mumbled. "I'll just wrap it real quick."

"It'll heal," William replied. He didn't deserve such extra care.

Xander let out an exasperated sigh. "Right. I know that, but it'll heal faster, if it doesn't get dirty. I mean," Xander paused, and William tensed, leaning forward and mentally urging Xander to continue, "you're already trying to heal from so much. Isn't there, like, a limit on how much you can heal? I mean, after Glory, it took you days to heal, and this is *way* worse than what she did to you. I mean, *God*, when I found you, I *really* thought you were headed straight to dustville."

"Wouldn't 'ave," William murmured.

"What?"

"I said, I wouldn't have."

"Huh? You sure? Cuz--"

"I'm sure," he shrugged.

"You're remembering more, then?" Xander asked.

William shook his head vigorously. **Don't wanna remember!** The thing of it was, he *did* want to remember, he just didn't want to remember. He sighed, knowing full-well it made absolutely no sense. "No, just bits and pieces, flashes, really." He paused, trying to sort out exactly how to explain, ignoring the sensation of Xander gently cleaning and wrapping his injury. "Some things, I just . . . know. Don't know why, just do."

"I've heard that," Xander said brightly, his touch going away. "For instance, I've heard of people remembering complicated things, like how to give cpr, but not able to even remember their names. Hey! At least you've got that going for you. You know your name. You know who you are."

William shook his head.

"What? You *don't* remember your name? Yes you do. You're the one who brought up William."

"Not what I meant," William responded, frustration tightening his sore body.

"Sorry," Xander replied soothingly. "Can you tell me what you *did* mean?"

Frowning, William pulled his lower lip between his teeth, worrying it as he thought. "I *see* my name, in my mind. It's like getting a flash of a place setting, the name William written in fancy script on a pale card. But it doesn't really *mean* anything to me. It doesn't tell me anything about myself. It doesn't let me remember *who* I am!" He scooted around, turning his body to face Xander, even if he couldn't see the human, it just seemed more natural to be facing the person he was talking to. "Can you honestly say I'm me?"

"Ouch," Xander muttered, the gentle warmth of his touch returning. "I see what you mean."

"Oh," William said, dejected. He'd hoped Xander would contradict him, tell him he was behaving normally, that this *was* who he was. "I'm real different now?" he asked hesitantly, hoping not.

"Yeah, you're different now."

Tentatively reaching out, William lay his hand on Xander, reveling in the heart beat he could feel beneath his touch. "Help me remember?" he asked, quietly. "I want to know who I am."

Xander's breathing hitched as he drew in a swift breath. "I will, William," he answered softly, pulling the vampire toward himself. "I promise."

**

"Right," Xander said suddenly, slowly rising to his feet, "you just staght ght there, while I clean up this glass."

William jerked his head up, tilting it just a little too high. "What broke the window?"

"Someone threw a rock through it."

"Why?"

"How should I know?" Xander exclaimed, blowing out an exasperated breath. "I've been--"

"Busy taking care of me," William replied dropping his head down. "I'm sor--"

"Don't even apologize for that." Xander insisted firmly, moving quickly to pick up the biggest pieces. It really didn't take him long, and on his way to the kitchen to dispose of the sharp edged pile of glass, he set the culprit on the coffee table.

"I don't get why they'd wrap it in paper, though," he commented absently.

"Paper?"

"Yeah, wrapped up like a Nightmare on Elm Street Christmas present."

"I thought you watched the telly a lot," William taunted, and Xander wanted to frown and grin at the same time.

He wanted to frown because of the heavy sarcasm in William's voice -- on the other hand, it made him want to grin, that sounded more like the old Spike than anything the vampire had said all night.

"I do!" He did frown then. "Well, I used to. Um . . . why?"

"It's probably a note. You got any enemies?"

Xander blinked, slapping the heel of his palm against his forehead. **Like, Duh!** he thought, hurrying back to the table. Grabbing the rock, he nearly dropped it as William suddenly stiffened, alarm radiating off the vampire's posture.

"What?!"

When William didn't answer, Xander started toward him, only to stop as the vampire raised his head slightly, inhaling slowly through his nose. **Sniffing?**

William gasped, curling in on himself, and alarm raced through Xander. **What now?** "What's wrong?" he asked, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. The last thing he needed was to scare William even more. **God! Never thought I'd be worrying about scaring *him*!**

"Don't know. Don't like it!"

"Don't like what?" Xander asked, thoroughly confused now. He'd thought William -- He wondered suddenly whether the vampire would let him call him Will; William sounded so formal. -- had heard something, but now he wasn't so sure.

"What I'm feeling, sensing."

**Okay, that cleared it all up -- NOT!** "Huh? Sensing?"

William simply nodded, looking like he was trying to dissolve into the couch.

**Arrrg! Again with the 'not so helpful'!** Xander opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it shut when Will suddenly twisted around staring toward the door -- which was faintly strange what with the bandages and the not seeing at all. "Someone's here?"

Again Will nodded, and Xander frowned. **Angel?** He certainly hoped so. Though, if he were to make a guess based on Will's reaction, he'd have to say it probably wasn't.

Light, rapid knocking interrupted Xander's train of thought, and he automatically started for the door -- wondering whether or not he should grab a weapon. As he passed the couch, Will's hand shot out and the vampire grabbed his arm, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

"I'm just going to answer the door. Don't worry I'll--"

Will vigorously shook his head. "No, don't. Bad."

Xander frowned, relaxing into Will's hold on him. Glancing uncertainly between the door and Will, he wavered indecisively. It only took a moment, however; he refused to be intimidated in his own home. Removing Will's hand, and ignoring the vampire's quiet growling, he continued his aborted trip toward the door. Despite Will's seeming distrust, he wasn't completely *stupid* he was going to--

"No, *please*."

Xander rolled his eyes, grateful for the first time that Will couldn't see him. "I'll ask who it is first," he promised. **Like I'd open the door here without finding *that* out -- *ever* -- let alone now.** Will may not exactly be at his best right now, but if who -- or what -- ever was out in the hall scared him *that* much, Xander wasn't all together certain he even wanted to check. Only his own stubborn refusal to give in to fear kept him moving.

"Who is it?" he asked before he was half-way there, glancing back at William -- and feeling rather stupid about doing it, since the vampire couldn't even see him do it -- **See, I asked,** he thought.

"Angel," came the irritated reply.

The familiar voice jerked Xander's attention back toward the door, but that lasted only a moment. **That was quick!** Even more confused, Xander slowly turned around to stare at his vampire. **What the hell is going on?!**

"You *did* call me," Angel reminded when the silence drew out too long.

Xander jumped. "Oh! Yeah," he replied, quickly striding to the door and pulling it open. "Sorry about that, William had a strange reaction to you being here," he continued as he backed up to give Angel room to enter. "Come in."

"Who?" Angel asked as he crossed the now barrier free threshold, freezing just inside the door.

"What?" Xander asked, the odd -- horrified? -- expression on Angel's face scaring him more than he cared to admit -- even to himself.

TBC
Kiristeen
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