The Book of William Part II
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Part II
William’s Second World
Chapter 8 September 10, 2011
Verse 1:
“Trust in Time and thyme
To season and season”
William Ashley -Pitt
The first thing Millie noticed about the quiet man with the warm soft eyes sitting across from her was: huh.
No notes.
He had the text in front of him and the large book with small print was opened (assumedly) to the play in question...but no notes. No stacks of paper piled high to reinforce and make his position more viable with the sturdy flying buttress of research in bindings and this struck her as odd and she then thought: ‘This could be very bad...or very good.’
This could indicate a slack nature taking the dramaturges importance in this production for granted, or someone who knew the Master so well, the only way to way to do a playwright justice, would be to stay in the moment, answer whatever questions that come front and center without rehearsal. It was about speaking out loud and from the heart.
Well, she would soon see and she hadn't promised to hire said Prof. Ashley-Pitt, this was just the first interview on a recommendation, and certainly his credentials backed him up but she would see what she would see..
She smiled and shook her straight auburn hair back from her face as she strode to greet him. He stood in response, looked her directly in the eye and extended his hand, she took it and noted with satisfaction a good firm grip.
Good. He didn't peddle light for the Ladies. Good. She liked him at once.
"Good Morning, Professor Ashley-Pitt..." and then she chuckled and explained herself as she withdrew her hand and walked around to the other side of the table in the rehearsal room.
"Sorry for the formal greeting, I just had to give myself the old world pleasure of saying 'Professor Ashley-Pitt.' It has such sweet diphthong changes."
And he laughed and his mirth was genuine and, ah so...he was charismatic too. Up close she could feel his charm now in a way that wasn't apparent from a distance. Well that was good. Actors respected and responded to charisma like it was their best natural reserve, as indeed it was. Charisma was the gold standard in the business and this Prof had some cash in his piggy.
"Yes well...'what's in a name? A rose by any other would smell as sweet, and so Romeo would, were he not Romeo called.. and so I like to think of Ashes to Pitt as an exercise and not preordained."
Millie laughed out loud and then smiled brightly and he stared at her for a moment and Millie appraised him anew. He knew how to speak iambic parameter. Honoring the rhythm and using it to ease one idea smoothly into another. Still, it was just a phrase.
She had a sudden impulse, an insight and she wasn't a brilliant director taking Shakespeare to an off Broadway stage for nothing. Not off, off Broadway. Off Broadway, just one ‘off’ and so this production must sing from beginning to end.
"How would you do it?"
Professor Ashley-Pitt looked at her solemnly and then started speaking simply.
"Start with punctuation."
Millie's eyebrow lifted in involuntary response and Will went on.
"It all begins with punctuation. Shakespeare installs rhythm into the text, locks it in for the generations with punctuation. It's really quite clear and stunning at the same time, and surprising, how very surprising just how many actors, completely ignore it. Address this issue first and you will find almost sixty five percent of your task complete."
Millie was nodding and then was surprised to hear the Professor say softly.
"But you know that already."
Millie chuckled and said simply.
"Yes."
"Why are you looking for a dramaturge? You seem more than capable of interpreting text."
"Oh, I am, I will and perhaps that is the question I should ask you, why do I need a dramaturge?"
Will considered and answered honestly.
"Because the wise seek council."
Millie sobered immediately and knew this was her man for the job but still she enjoyed talking with him and didn't want to end the interview and so moved this conversation along to the 'getting to know your mind phase.'
"Yes, Professor...yes...one should surround oneself with the finest minds, the finest talent and then cull the whole honoring all."
Will regarded her, she had a broad face that might have been thought of as plain, except for the eyes. Her eyes were too deep, too warm and kind for her to anything than an unearthly beauty. Though few men would see this and lucky the bloke was who did. She sat in the center of herself, unblinking and now he decided. He wanted this job. He wanted to work with this amazing woman. He had gotten the call at University about acting as dramaturge for an enterprising production of Romeo and Juliet; he had been intrigued of course, text studied as text was always a never ending fascination for the mind and spirit but to see it on stage...to help the process along...he looked inside himself and then said this:
"The most important part of the equation is the breath of life...of speaking the words out loud and introducing the vibration into the air, submitting the ego to the brighter vision, trusting the text and sitting just under it, enhancing it with the power of living energy so it acts as a conductor to heal the heart and mind of the actor performing, the audience....and I dare say to the world at large. Inspired text and certainly Shakespeare ranks as the Master of such text, is the music of the heavens conducted into matter, light poured into mud and this, these words are the best we can do to be a small shade of heaven here on earth."
Brief pause as Millie let the words work inside her and then she said softly.
"Please come to work with me Professor Ashley-Pitt."
"I would be honored Millie McNally...but now you must call me Will."
She laughed and shook her head.
"Oh come on, be a sport, at least let me call you Professor in front of the actors, it's soooo much fun to play."
"Well, who might I be to diminish pleasure where one might find it?"
Oh he really was too charming, the actress's would eat him up and...maybe a few of the actors as well...hmm...this would be...interesting.
"I must warn you about the actors..."
"I know actors...I have an immense respect and admiration for the craft."
"Well, that's good because they might keep some of their opinions to themselves...but you can't fool many. A good actor is a brilliant judge of human nature. But you've stood up to the rabid minds that fill a top University, so..."
Will chuckled, "It is a small College, catering to individualized study, but yes, it is s very respectable school and...you make it sound like I'll be going into battle."
"Oh yeah, you know that's true. But it's one we will win together, and we keep the text, the play as the goal..."
"Always."
"Then we are of one mind."
Millie stood and came around the table while extending her hand.
"Welcome on board...Will...I'll have the contract sent to your office for you to peruse at your leisure, when can you begin?"
Will shook her hand warmly and smiled that small gentle smile Millie was already beginning to love. He was too mature for her to think of as her son...perhaps a younger brother, but there was definitely a connection there, and as they withdrew hands Will cocked his head and asked and it came out as non sequitur.
"Have we met before?"
"No, no I have almost total recall and I certainly would remember you..."
And here he laughed.
"I find that difficult to fathom...and I can begin at your leisure--I am on sabbatical working on an analysis of Richard III and the Henrys and so my time is almost my own."
"Well then how about right now? The actors are all in the rehearsal room on the fourth floor of this building--let's go up and take a gander, I’ll introduce you, and you can take a look at them."
"I...thank you, that sounds lovely."
"Good."
And as they were leaving the room and heading into the corridor Will felt he had to say...something...
"I...thank you for this opportunity...as you can imagine, having an opportunity to experience the text coming alive...is a rare gift...thank you..."
Millie was watching him...and said finally. "You're welcome...but I feel I have to amend that with a thank you of my own, I think we are going to get on great and who do I thank for that? Nice timing for me–I lost my dramaturge a week ago, just as we were starting rehearsals and Andre had to go half way around the world and now I feel I've one that’s better for this production and if not better, shall we say, simpatico?"
They were walking up the double flight of stairs to the old theatre on the fourth floor, their footfall sounding hollow on the marbled hallway.
"We will be rehearsing for the most part in this old space...as you know, we will move into the performance space on 35th street before tech week, but I wanted to rehearse in a large space, a theatre preferably so the actors would be accustomed to projecting and not be tempted to become too intimate in a smaller rehearsal room. As you will discover, we have some film and television actors in the cast...and they need to reacquaint themselves with the demands of The Theatre..."
"Very wise..." Will responded "Never take anything for granted...and there is an intimacy that can be implied while projecting of course..."
"Of course, and that is one of the things you can help me uncover for the cast...again, I'm amazed to have you with us, strange accident of fate or whatnot...”
And here Millie was opening one of the double doors leading into the audience side of the 200 seat theatre space. Will noted the deep dark red velvet of the Theatre seats with satisfaction, the sconces on the wall and he asked idly as Millie led the way down the aisle.
"How did you stumble across and fall down at my door by the way--"
"Oneida endorsed you of course but a recommendation led me to the university..."
"Might I ask where this recommendation came from?"
"A very dear friend of mine, who saved my skin on a couple of occasions and apparently just did it again..."
Millie was getting a little a ahead of him and so he couldn’t quite hear her voice as it didn’t project backwards very well to him.
“Beg ‘pardon?” He asked
And then Millie swung her head around, her short auburn hair swinging lightly as she did, and inclined her head to the left, indicating that he take a seat somewhere in the theatre to watch the rehearsal.
“We have the full cast coming in and now you are here, looks like we’ll hijack the schedule and have another read through this afternoon--I can introduce you then…take a seat Prof…”
Before he could answer Millie was nodding and talking to a short wiry man and from the look of him, from the green wool button down the front sweater if from nothing else, William could only assume that this was the Stage Manager–and sure enough he bustled up the steps to the stage in that SM way of getting the wrecking ball rollin’ calling out::
"Buffy? Bufffeeee? Herr Directkor es here. Coomin ze OUT! Rouse! Rouse!”
There was general laughter at this and greetings were called to Millie from the actors lying on tumbling on mats on the stage floor.
The name stopped Professor William Ashley-Pitt completely.
Completely.
How many Buffys’ could there be in North America?
A slim blonde walked out from the right wing.
Only one, apparently.
He really, really wasn't quite sure if he was capable of moving his legs. There he stood in the middle of the road and halfway up the aisle....and…
…Yes, yes it was her, oh yes it was. She was wearing gray sweat pants and a pink tank top and two of the actors whistled at her as she walked by and she quipped.
"Ah the sound of hot air coming from little spaces..."
And they laughed, but were put in their place at the same time too.
Will was still far up on the aisle and he stopped himself just before stepping out of the shadows. He watched her move across the stage, light on the balls of her feet, ready for anything…
He watched her move like flowing water, an animal prowling the stage, he leaned forward toward the sight, but then caught himself before stepping into the light.
Buffy.
Buffy.
He felt himself go soft inside, hard edges softened, small cuts healed and it was Buffy there just right there and time was a joke.
Time was nothing and standing there half in half out of the picture he understood completely one thing.
Love lasted.
Love lasted and that was that.
He drew in a deep breath and pulled himself up farther into the shadows and moved into the nearest aisle to lean against the seat. He had to slow down a bit here...he had to slow this rock ‘em sock ‘em action movie down to a still shot.
He watched her reach her arms up and tighten her pony tail and then lean forward and greet Millie by pressing cheek to cheek in the theatre way and idly he noted how theatre people love to touch each other at any opportunity...and now here was Buffy...here was Buffy.
She looked good, of course, she glowed and looked calm and centered...and maybe a little softer than when he had last seen her in the restaurant.
Softer? Or sadder?
God, he wanted to be inside her...suddenly it was there; loud and needy and it was still there, seeing her, seeing her body her soul and he wanted...to be in her...to be her...how can a person want another like that? Why should a person want another like that?
She looked out across the room the way one does when someone beloved calls you but he was well hidden and she saw nothing and so her gaze returned to Millie who was speaking to her and gesturing to the Actors.
He couldn’t look at her…it was like staring into the sun, nay a solar eclipsing all his memories, all Spikes memories and the real reality was too much to take in.
His breath was hitching a little and he had to force himself to slow down and do this thing called breathing--body likes it. The body liked breathing…there, that was a little better but now that he was a little more relaxed that only made the fluid want to flow and he would not weep, would not sit in hiding in the back of the theatre in the back of his holy place and weep at the sight of her soul shining, her body slow and confident, eyes steady and when she turned her face and stepped into the light he marveled at her unmarked cheeks--no scar--of course. He had Spikes memories of her and they held no scar, no physical scar that is, and as he hadn’t actually seen her face at the restaurant more than a year ago and had some part of him hoped that Buffy, his Buffy would come back?
He discovered now that he had been hoping that his Buffy would come back come into this life to help ease the hard strangeness of this world and it is one thing to hope but and another to know and lose hope.
He felt a poof, a right fool, and blithering idiot…how, how had that hope still been there living inside him all this time?
He knew it wouldn’t be her, he knew it...but still…she was…
She.
It was her soul…but not her…
It was she but obscured by her…
A distinction only a world walker such as himself would appreciate.
This Buffy...was beautiful, though, even more beautiful than his Buffy and he could admit that but didn’t that fact put even more distance between them?
He stayed in the shadows because the silly stupid water wouldn’t stop sliding from his eyes and down his cheeks.
He would pull himself together. He would.
He looked down and breathed and thought about leaving and the moment after leaving but a thought was all it was and when the thought ended he was still standing. Of course he was.
He was William Ashley-Pitt the in-between world walker, he walked...he did not run..and when he looked up it was to see her staring at him.
He was still in the dark of course, still invisible to light, but he knew she saw him nonetheless and was choosing to say nothing. Waiting for him.
Well that was a switch.
Well he would meet her, he would.
This Buffy would meet this William.
“Where’s my Prof?”
It was Millie calling out. She turned and walked to the edge of the stage, squinting her eyes and looking out over the house.
“Ollie, lock the doors don’t let him wander away, this place is haunted don’t you know, don’t want the ghosts to get him...”
Too late. Thought Will and then he stepped into the light.
*
She had been standing quiet and looking out across the room and now she saw him walking slowly down the aisle, their eyes met and held at sixty paces and she felt an intense shiver very, very close to orgasm.
Spike...it was, it was Spike...but turned inside out...his beautiful soul on the outside now and with nowhere to hide.
She felt the world change and shift under her feet, it was the moment after the moment when you didn't look away, didn't hide the heart and so she heard her old world crash around her and fall into apocalypse, a real one this time, and for a moment she was held suspended in midair with nothing to do, nowhere to go, nothing to be and it felt like freedom...
Someone was calling her. Oh...Millie...she walked to the edge of the stage that was a foot higher than the audience floor and so was looking down toward Millie as Spike walked slowly up from behind.
She stepped down off the stage and dimly heard Millie saying something like:
"You two know each other, right? Oh yes...yes...I see that you do..." and then Millie’s voice drifted down to a stop as she watched Will and Buffy watch each other but say nothing.
Oh yeah, these two knew each other...well, wasn't Buffy a little secret keeper? And ‘oh yes, Millie I might know someone perfect for you, a great guy who does Shakespeare too’ and just why did Andre have to go to India of all places all of a sudden, and yeah, she was suddenly very suspicious of Miss Buffy and so Millie looked at her sharp but then shrugged. No, no Buffy wouldn’t do that–Buffy knew the cosmic price for machinations on that scale and so this was just, and here Millie could smile–more serendipity.
Millie nodded and almost shook her head, she was attuned to energy and much as she wanted to bask in this greeting between old friends...it...seemed too personal...oh she was going to have a talk with our little Missy Buffy, oh yes she would, but now wasn’t the time or place–they had work to do and so she stepped back and then up onto the stage saying.
"We have the space for two more hours, Buffy, and then a little time for introductions for Will's benefit and then she explained.
"This is our first stage combat session, Buffy's been teaching everybody to fall for a day now and these boys are getting antys...they want body contact, right?"
"Oh always..." called out the actor playing Mercutio–it was Tony Weatherall and everybody laughed. He had that gift...that gift and if he wanted, no matter what he said; he could be funny...
The only ones not laughing were William and Buffy who had still said nothing.
"Buffy? You can catch up later, right? Professor...now see? I can't help it, you’re the Prof to me now, everybody this is Professor Ashley-Pitt he's our amazing dramaturge; check your schedules and Do. Not. Miss. Your. Session. Don't do it, or you will have the wrath of Ollie visited upon your head, then me...then our producer."
Millie was joking but the implication was clear. Understanding the text was to be an important part of this production, and don't take the Prof lightly. And now she turned to the two and said a little more softly and for their ears only.
"Buffy? Let's get going, right? Will isn't going anywhere soon are you Prof?"
And indeed Buffy was looking at him as if he might disappear if she looked away.
He made a slight motion of his head, which seemed to indicate something of a 'no...'
And then...and then...Buffy reached out slowly and touched his chest...and it was there, right there the thymus gland over the breast bone, right there on the space of the soul and William felt his bones go soft and would his knees buckle? That would be so very bad if her touch brought him to his knees...
He reached up and stroked the back of her hand and her eyes filled with the kind of life water that falls down only to grow something greater.
Millie cleared her throat once and said airily "Have a seat Prof and watch Buffy put these boys through their paces."
Maybe Will nodded. maybe he didn't but Buffy looked him in the eye and he knew he would stay. He would stay.
She took a deep breath, pulled away from him and then picked up a bottle of water sitting on a seat in the theatre and took a swig while she composed herself.
Will watched her step onto the stage and then across toward the group of young men while shifting into...The Slayer.
Or a much softer home friendly version of The Slayer. The mood immediately shifted in the room and this group of young men were all attention.
Mrs. Summers…Buffy…but no scar…her cheek, both cheeks smooth as fresh spun silk.
Will moved up the aisle and chose a seat about six rows back and little off to the side. Intuitively he knew he had to remove himself from her auric field so she could concentrate. Now, Spike would have sat down right there in the front row and stroked the red velvet of the theatre seat next to him to deliberately distract her. Will sighed and stifled a smile at the thought, at the temptation...no, no...he couldn’t do that...
He knew what had just happened between them could never be simulated couldn’t be faked, he knew now that what she had said years ago to Spike what she had written on her note to him months ago was her first best truth.
She loved him.
It was good that she loved him, he was glad for Spike, he was...
But he had felt her heart reaching out to him and his to hers...he had felt it...now, what did that mean? What did it mean?
Will sighed and watched this Buffy and decided not to think as his world changed yet again.
*
Verse 3
“I was waiting, I was wading
And your river runneth over...”
William Ashley-Pitt
*
It was a bit of work to keep her eyes from slipping back to where he sat out there. It took a bit of effort to focus on these young strapping charismatic samples of virile maleness and not slip sideways to the quiet bespeckled gentleman in tweed. When she couldn’t help herself and looked back toward him she felt, if not actually saw him nod toward her.
Just a wee sense of a nod, but dang if she could tell what he was thinking. He was...he was kind of doing that tuning out thing, that turning off thing that he must have been doing at the restaurant and she didn’t like it, not one bit.
Oh, this had been the wrong setting for this; but swear to trees growing she didn’t know he would be coming in today. Millie hadn’t mentioned it. She wasn’t even sure that Millie would hire him–she hadn’t pushed it–just mentioned it and let life do the rest.
At first, she had just needed to know where he was in the world, that he was alright, and, and happy and it wasn’t a difficult thing to trace the English Prof from the restaurant from the clues given to the small University where he taught. She hadn’t wanted Giles or the Council to know and so she did the leg work the old fashioned way. And so first it was about finding him, knowing where he was, like a treasure to think kindly toward, and then it was about wanting to see him, and then it was about needing to talk to him and then suddenly the opportunity and now:
They needed to be quiet together, without distractions, but, oh well, one thing at a time.
“Tony, you’re gonna break your back if you insist on keeping it straight...” Buffy called out to the actor as he was pulling himself up from a hard flop on the matt.
“Well, you know...I’m the kind of guy who learns from watching, ma’am, maybe you can show me what I’m doing vs what I ought to do...”
“Seeing is believing...” Quipped Amal Ahmad the talented young man playing Romeo.
The other guys nodded and concurred and murmured various similar phrases and Buffy sighed.
“This is not about renting a video and going into a dark room, boys...this is business. I’m not here so you can watch my lithe body go through the mechanics of gymnastics--Millie wants to do this hard and rough and for real and that means control and being in the best shape of your life so far. There will be no broken bones on my watch...I will say this only once...The action sequences are to be considered as important as the text. Seems young people don’t like coming into the theatre like in them old days and now it’s about action and adventure, and well, Romeo and Juliet has plenty of adventure, the thing is, there will be no stunt doubles, so if you, any of you can’t or won’t do it, it’s best for everybody if we find that out now...Questions so far?”
She looked around at the group at the still serious faces...no questions.
“Millie would you like to add anything to that or amend it?
Millie was sitting on a chair near the end of the stage and smiling benignly.
“No...ma’am...”
And everyone relaxed into a chuckle and Buffy smiled.
“There will be time to joke around and sure we can all have fun, but I want to instill in you a respect for yourself and each other. Your well being will be in each others hands. Literally. And man, once you guys get this down...it will look so cool...”
Now the guys chuckled and Buffy’s eyes slid sideways to the Professor and noted that he was still there and then she brought her attention back to the group.
“O.K., I will bend to Tony’s request and show you what he was doing wrong.”
The actors all gave each other space to see her demonstration and she went to the mat and did a slow tuck and roll keeping her back straight so that she landed flat on it with a thump.
She got up gracefully and said smoothly...do that a couple times in a row and somebody is gonna crack a tail bone and no motion in the ocean tonight.
The guys laughed and Buffy smiled. This was all right, she knew when to be ‘one of the guys’ and how to keep it business too. It would be all right.
She resisted the urge to look out to the sixth row and took a breath and said, “Now watch the back, see when to curve the back.”
And then she did another tuck and roll so slow it seemed impossible to stay in the air, curving her back at the beginning of the arch so that she rolled neatly on it like a ball to be standing on her feet again.
“O.K....now Tony, before you do this again...I want you to just take a moment and imprint what I just did on your mind...”
“No problem...uh, ma’am...”
“And then visualize yourself doing it smoothly, do that a couple of times in your head and then try it again.”
He did and then went to the end of the mat and did a very smooth tuck and roll ending up on his feet. The actors standing nearby applauded their good-hearted sportsmanship.
Buffy’s cocked an eyebrow, “Now why am I getting the idea that I just got a song and a dance?”
“Oh no, Miss Buffy, oh no, it was your excellent tutelage that is responsible for my sudden transformation...”
“Ah...yeah, right, well seeing you learn so fast, you can be the first to be flipped...”
This got even more applause from his fellow actors.
Buffy went to the end of the mat and beckoned the 6'1" one hundred and eighty pounds of hunky actor to come at her.
“Uh..I don’t think so...” Tony murmured.
“I know this is your first time, Tony, I’ll be gentle...”
To this he smiled that famous crooked smile and lined up to be framed by the mat and started to move slowly toward her...
“A little faster...” Buffy said
He picked up the pace and when he went to grab her she neatly grabbed his arm and leg and using his own momentum hoisted him easily over her head and almost placed him gently on the mat. He landed with a small thump.
Everyone’s eyes popped open.
“Did that hurt?” Buffy asked casually to the actor lying prone on his back.
He considered the range of what hurt might indicate...
“Not my body...” He finally said and everyone laughed...there was even a chuckle from the house and Buffy looked out to the sound and was gratified to see Prof Ashley-Pitt smiling.
Feeling a little better at this and not really sure why, Buffy put a hand out to Tony and he took it and she helped him to him feet.
“Everyone will be able to do that. To pick and place each contact and fall. We will all take turns in training so everybody will have a feel and an ability to do everything...but it will all be that easy...”
Buffy noted Tony looking down at his feet and thinking
“Tony?”
“Uh...yeah...it’s just that I almost had the feeling I could do a combination, like a fall into a tuck and roll...the way you threw me down, I mean...”
“Yes, that’s it exactly, we will be learning moves that can be used in combination and so make the whole picture seem more complicated than it really is.”
“When do we get our swords?”
This was the actor playing Tybalt.
And Amal countered with; “You so anxious for me to take you down, Jack?”
“It’s George to you...”
“Buffy, what about it?” Asked Tony. “When do we get to swords?”
“After you eat your vegetables...” Said Millie from the corner and there was laughter again. “Honestly these boys and there swords...”
“Well it is natural...” Buffy murmured
“Um...uh Equity? Is there an Equity rep in the house? I think this is sexual harassment...of some kind.” Tony said straight faced and the other actors took up the Norma Rae battle cry.
“Oh alright...Ollie, when is it all about the bootay?” Millie asked.
Ollie the stage manager conferred with his notes and then said...hmm...
“Tomorrow morning...”
Stunned silence and then whoops of joy.
“No, no way is it gonna be that easy...” George called out over the din.
.
“Oh yeah, it’ll be swordplay...” Buffy observed casually, “...with broomsticks.”
The din quieted.
“Gotta start with the moves, block and parry and thrust, but hey, look on the bright side all you guys have been in training since you saw star wars and there has been an empty paper towel roll...you should all move quite smartly along.”
“Excellent!” Said Amal.
Excellent indeed.
“O.K. you guys ready for a break?” Asked Millie. “Great, Ollie what does our clock look like?”
“We have everybody for about another two hours, the rest of the cast will be joining us–oh, here come some now.”
There was a bit of clatter and laughing voices and down the aisle walked two women, the first one was in her forties perhaps and wearing the unlikely color combination of yellow blouse and a billowing green skirt and dark blonde hair pulled back off her face and the other was a young brunette beauty who appeared to be in her early twenties or late teens but hey, with actors, who could tell?
“O.K. we might go into overtime this evening, but we need a second read for our dramatruge and coach...everybody, this is Prof. Will Ashley-Pitt; if you haven’t met him already and so go chew some marbles and loosen up those lips and make me a proud mama, o.k. you guys did great, you are looking fiiine, as they say. Take ten and we’ll see you back for a read through.”
There were nods and clatter as the boy crew broke up and every time Buffy turned to go to Spike there was another arm touching her, somebody pulling her aside to ask her this and that.
And when she did pull away it was to see Millie introducing him to the two actresses that had arrived. She watched him dip his head and take the young brunette woman’s hand (who seemed to hold his overlong in Buffy’s opinion)–she was the one playing Juliet, Buffy remembered that even though she had forgotten her name and the other woman, the dark blonde was the big time character actress playing the nurse and Buffy couldn’t remember her name either. Rhoda? Or Rhonda? And green and yellow? Yeah, that’s a character all right.
More talent was arriving–Allen who was playing the Friar, an up and coming African American headlight from the off Broadway scene and now here he brushing elbows with T.V. stars and such and Buffy remembered he was good, she remembered liking him from the first read through and The Prince was here now, grey hair and towering over all at his 6'3" and the Mr and Missus Monty-ques and Lord Capulet–almost all the actors were here and on time–that will make Millie happy.
And then the table was there on the stage and everyone was coming back and taking a seat and getting themselves adjusted for a read through and of course this was still the wrong time to go greet him more properly. And, and he was still doing that distance thing, keeping his eyes from hers, when she tried to get eye contact....and, what was with that? Was he overwhelmed maybe, by these actors? Semi-celebs? Or.
Or, maybe, maybe, he still didn’t want to see her? But he seemed so warm just a little bit ago?
O.K., O.K. he’s just doing the cool British thing or the cool man thing, this is his first day on the job and so she shouldn’t be slobbering all over him...so, o.k., she be cool too...and wait.
She took a seat near the end of the table, a little out of Spike’s line of vision, to give him some room, or her some room, whatever and maybe so she could watch him unobserved.
There were all just settling when a slim woman with dark brown hair spilling about her shoulders came rushing up to the table, a little out of breath and peeling her coat off as she hurried to the table as if this display of eagerness would diminish tardiness..
As she raised her arms while struggling to remove her coat Buffy was aware of all eyes turning to take in the tight pull of her purple sweater across her ample bosom. This in contrast to her slim waste drew an almost a collective sigh of appreciation from the men at the table and (maybe a hiss from the women) but instead of hissing (women) or panting (men) everybody smiled and Ollie called out.
“Ah Maive...just in time...”
“Sorry, “ she mumbled low “I’m still getting used to cabs and traffic...won’t happen again...”
She nodded a hello around the table, skimming so fast over Buffy she made a greasy spot, did a mini double take at the man with the chiseled cheekbones, full mouth and glasses and murmured to the young brunette playing Juliet as she sat down.
“Dorothy, who is the double yum in the ‘Goodbye Mr. Chips?”
The young woman laughed lightly as Maive settled and Buffy heard her murmur.
“New Dramaturge...”
“Drama indeed...” Maive countered
“Down, puss...”
“We can only wish...” Maive said straight faced and both women laughed again softly.
Now, Buffy was proud of her control, of how she had matriculated off the battle field to the user friendly version of herself, but oh, yes, there was a growl, an involuntary growl and when the two women turned to the sound that spanked the inner primitive–Buffy turned it into a coughy clearing throat thing and smiled at the two woman, nodded around the table to anyone nearby who might have heard (The Slayer) and then took a sip of water.
Just can’t take me anywhere...
When she looked back up it was to look into Spike’s eyes who’s warm expression eased her at once. (Not like she was some kinda wild thing that needed...handling, no not at all).
She let her eyes smile back into his without altering her facial expression and then he dipped his head to break the moment.
O.K. just let him be. At least he hasn’t run away and so: later.
*
She looks so beautiful. So beautiful.
With her hair pulled back in a pony tail falling down her back, gold swish and swack. Her petite face, slim body, creamy skin and growl.
He smiled.
What was it about a person? Or was it about a soul? Being around her, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, he felt her seeping into him, like osmosis perhaps, like she was moving between the molecules of his flesh to reach the tender untouched places.
She was so like his Buffy; so like her, it would be easy to get confused. His Buffy was sadder than Buffy was, his Buffy was harder and...hungrier he would have thought, until he head the growl.
Like the stomach growling a mild request that little non sequitur had slipped and he felt himself grow a little hard as if the small sound had moved into his flesh and was now living there.
Millie was speaking now.
“Folks, this is our second read through and I know it is a little unusual to have another one so soon after our first, and for those of you who haven’t heard, Andre has had a situation arise in his family that needed his immediate attention and so we have been very fortunate to have found Professor Will Ashley-Pitt from Oneida to sit in as dramturgue. As I already mentioned, you are all scheduled in one on one sessions and in groups as the weeks go on, but I would like him to get a feeling for where you are now and so now I welcome his comments and preliminary suggestions to you before we begin, Prof?”
All eyes were on Will and after nodding at Millie’s introduction, he leaned back slightly in his chair and looked at the entire group, taking in the whole while still seeming to address each one individually for such was the innate talent of a gifted teacher.
“As Millie said, I’m here to listen today and the only suggestion I have before you begin, will be one that will work to a man and it is this: punctuation. Shakespeare used punctuation as a guidepost, milemarker and pacesetter. Because he compounds imagery...”
“I’ll say...” Murmured Tony good naturedly and everyone chuckled and Will smiled too.
“Yes, as you say, there is image upon image but one only becomes lost when one dwells overlong on words and images, where one pauses to punch when the punctuation is actually urging one on. It seems counter-intuitive...but the sense to be found in Shakespeare often comes from being able to absorb the larger picture, by building one image quickly after another. When he wants one to linger on a specific word picture–he uses punctuation to end the sentence or stanza. Time and again, he sets up a huge word picture and then comments on the picture. You really need to work very little. He has said himself as Hamlet to his hired troupe of actors–speak the words of the play–just say the words, don’t wax the words. In short; he writes intra dimensionally...like...like Spock, playing chess–and when in doubt, simply read what he wrote.”
And here the group laughed gently and he smiled as he took in Buff’s warm gaze, caught his breath in his chest for a minute and then continued smoothly...
“And all this is in the punctuation. Where there is no comma or semi colon or other traffic cop you keep going, you keep the thought running through until there is an indication to pause or come to a full stop. Do this, and the sense of it will increase dramatically. This isn’t the kind of text where one can imprint one’s personal interpretation in the reading. You can not take a pause, like James Dean or Marlon Brando smack in the middle of a rambling text and I bow to Millie here, but it’s seems she is giving you the freedom to imbue your personal spirit inside the text at the price of adhering to classical form. This will feel much like working with a mask in the old world way of tribes and storytelling. The character is classic and a fixed point in the text–the actors art is being connected to life force and imbuing the mask with life. It is the ancient art form that submits to the power and grace of love and life, without ego. Which again, is why Shakespeare’s advice to actors was something akin to: ‘say it–don’t play it.’ This may seem constrictive, but you will soon see the genius in it.
Shakespeare is multi dimensional and works the mind, body and soul in turns and simultaneously and as complicated as this task is, he knows what is best and has given the generations a road map in punctuation and I have already talked about this longer than I intended–“
“--That’s all right Prof, I could listen to you for hours...” This was Maive’s comment with a smile and everyone laughed, and then they all turned as one to take in the young actress’s deeper intention and then they ALL smiled inwardly. This was going to be an interesting production on and offstage.
Buffy bit her lip and did not growl and Will continued smoothly.
“Well, that is reassuring, yes, yes...alright that’s all really for now, other than have fun and enjoy the text. Enjoy being able to say these words and the whole of it will open to you like magic.”
His voice had become soft and reverent and the group grew quiet in the face of a true believer.
“Let’s begin, Ollie will read the stage directions...” Millie said.
And he did..
*
The reading went very well, very well indeed. The simple instructions cleaned a layer of film off the surface of something they didn’t know was dirty. There was clarity. There was clarity and it was...exciting. The actors were electrified and they grew more confident as the reading progressed and they heard each other and then found the path for themselves.
They had discovered laughs in the play where there hadn’t been before and...and there were tears too. There was more than one wet eye as The Prince gave his final pronouncement at the end of the play and then there was a deep long pause and a burst of heartfelt applause as the actors gave back to the universe in the ancient way.
They had a play. They had a play.
There was a steady buzz and excited hum as the actors broke up for the evening and began to wrap themselves in cloaks and coats and prepare for the journey into the ‘real’ world. There were calls of thanks to the Prof and Millie and all were nodding and smiling and making plans for the post read drinks, who was coming? ‘Let’s go to the Red Head bar’, yeah that sounded good and then it was: ‘Prof you coming’? And slaps on his back and his sideways glance to Buffy and then Tony calls out: ‘Buffy You coming?’ And then Millie’s sideways glance to Will and Millie saying: ‘no, no, we have to leave them to battle plan, they’re still on the clock’ and Mille slipping a glance to Buffy that said (we are gonna talk!) And then there were ‘ahh’s of disappointment and Millie consoling all with the good times to come for all ahead and like children, like children the actors believed and then they left and it was Ollie going through the rounds of striking the house and Buffy and William were alone.
Buffy was seated now on the edge of the table but facing Will who was standing near the other end of the table where Millie had left him facing Buffy.
As if, even as they spoke with others, their bodies had inclined themselves toward each other and what of that? What of that?
They were silent for a very long moment and then like a shock Buffy asked this:
“Why don’t you want to see me?”
Silence. It was a smack down and a wake up now to both of them. Buffy had no idea she was going to ask that, she hadn’t even known the feeling to fuel such a question was still alive in her and now here it was out in the world and painted red.
She wasn’t angry. She truly wasn’t and the words weren’t angry but they were red in the way a sign demands attention and one would have to be deliberately obtuse, or cruel to ignore and William was neither of these and so he thought, carefully...and when he was ready, he respected her with the best truth that he could.
“I’m not Spike.”
There. There, It was said, it was terrible, it was terrible because he knew she loved him; him because he felt her extending this love to him and so precious it was he had greedily taken it to his own heart and so he knew how very deeply she had loved him...that is him...and now it was terrible to be the one to have to bring the news.
She stared at him for a long moment her eye brows pulling together slightly and breathed softly:
“No...”
There was a pause and then he said simply.
“I’m sorry...’
“No...” she said again but now it sounded more like a question.
He didn’t say anything this time but walked slowly toward her so she could see him clearly, so she could look into his eyes and see for herself.
She did.
After a moment she shook she head gently and said again, “No, no I can feel you...I can feel you...”
“Yes....yes...” he admitted and then lowered his head as he thought and then said as gently as he could. “I am in his body, I have his heart, I have his hearts memories...I have his mind and so his memories too...most of them I think, there are some names...I don’t quite...”
And then his voice rambled down to a stop when he realized that his quiet musing had hit her harder than his pronouncement. She was growing pale. Oh God, it was hitting her now, it was sinking in...
He watched her hand go to her throat but instead on the soft stroke she balled up her fist and whacked her own breastbone. She turned her face up to him and asked in a hard cold voice.
“Who are you? Or...what are you and where is he? What is this? Some kind of body snatch?”
The Slayer that she was already looking for the battleground fix it.
He shook his head slightly trying to take in her questions and consider how best to answer them and he began by saying,
“Perhaps there is someplace we can go...to talk...”
And then she stood and was all steel all 5'3" of her was solid steel and though he felt her strength, her power, he was unafraid and perhaps because he stayed so calm, his eyes were so kind, she calmed slightly.
“No,” Buffy finally said. “Just tell me...”
There was a brief pause and then he said simply.
“It’s me. I’m myself...”
She shook her head slightly.
“I’m William.”
He let that sink in until she was nodding her head and then he continued.
“You could say I am in his body, that I have his heart, but it is more accurate to say that I am in my body, and have my mind and heart...back. That I have been given myself back...and true, everywhere and everything this body has been in-between. But...I’m William Ashley-Pitt.”
He finally ended in an inane way that would have made her smile in any other circumstance and then she asked the terrible question.
“And Spike?”
How to answer that?
“I‘m not sure...”
As if reading his mind she lowered her head, already defeated, “just say what you think...”
“I think he’s gone...I think he’s in a good place, “ he amended quickly “but I had the impression of conversation before...before I was here and he seemed sorry...for the hijack, he said and so ‘here’s a bowl of cream’...something like that...”
And despite herself, in spite of herself, Buff smiled, yes, yes, that sounded like Spike, the Spike who would stand up to a hell god without blinking and love her so dearly for so many years without her asking. She whispered:
“You said, he’s in a good place...”
“That...that was the impression...that–“
And then he stopped at the sight of Buffy’s face crumpling in on itself as if this was the final weight that pushed her heart out of her body and she had to lean over to pick it up, she was doubled over trying to breathe and it was a hard, hard rasping sound.
He simply went to the table and sat next to her and then reached over and lay a warm hand on her back, just kept it there and stroked softly, firmly and said:
“I know...I know...” He said softly “It’s not fair...it’s not...”
She wasn’t crying really, not yet, she was struggling to keep it in, but he felt her body nod beneath his hand and when her body leaned up next to his he wrapped his arm around her and kissed the side of her head and said simply:
“I know...”
*
“My tears tear me, they tear me...
Yours, turn me into something holy...”
William Ashley-Pitt
He wanted to help her, he wanted to hold her, he wanted to hold her together and it wasn’t right, it wasn’t right, she didn’t need this--this one more blow bringing her a little closer to crazy and so the thought of this made him act fast.
Somehow he had gotten her into a cab and into the apartment he was subletting through a college associate in an old greystone that had survived the years and years of changes in New York City and now she was wrapped in a quilt with a cup of tea untouched, and she had cried her tears and he wept with her. For her, for him for Spike and for his own marked Buff who he would never know again.
It was mad, it was a mad, mad world (or worlds) and it went on and on past events and beloved done gone and as if to prove it–here they were still in it, still breathing and sitting on the couch together wrapped in quilts and attempting to drink tea.
Just the quiet and the quiet.
They hadn’t spoken much, small comforts and murmurs and stroking and holding and she had eventually fallen asleep in his arms as they lay on the couch in front of the fire.
He stroked her hair away from her face and then gently so gently moved out from under her so she could sleep undisturbed on the couch. He dared not wake her to have her sleep on the guest bed, besides the couch was comfortable. He wrapped the quilt around her and then went and sat in the arm chair by the dying fire. He sat there and thought nothing and hadn’t realized he had fallen asleep until he heard her soft voice asking him something.
“Hmm...hmm, what’s that?” He asked just as softly as if the late hour created the mandate for low level volume conversation.
“You’re William...”
He cocked his head and looked at her.
“I am...” he replied simply.
“Spike had Williams body, your body, traces of your personality and then your soul...”
“Yes...” William said cautiously. “With a caviot, that is, he had Williams soul of this world...I...I am tending to believe, to accept that I’m from another world...”
Buffy’s brow drew together in concentration and so Will went on.
I’ve checked history, your history and when I was at university here, there were different factors, different elements in history, different inventors, we, I never had an Isaac Newton, ours, my world had Neals Grange, my family, I had an Aunt in addition to my Mother and a cousin--different than Spike’s, things like that...”
“But you know me, I can feel you know me, and I recognize you...”
He nodded and then looked past her head at the coming dawn.
“The best I understand it...there is one soul simultaneously playing in many world and in heaven as well at the same time, not to mention past, present and future all in the muck and so I am William and I am not...”
There was a silence and Buff looked off into space and then said idly.
“It’s confusing.”
Her mild observation was so apt and at the same time so oddly understated to the situation at hand he laughed warmly and then she joined him and then she said softly.
“Dawn’s gone, she’s been...gone for almost five years now...”
Will’s face fell immediately and he felt a sharp pang in his heart. Very sharp.
“I...was afraid to ask...from what you were saying at the restaurant , in the restroom...I couldn’t tell...I suppose I didn’t want to know...”
“So you feel something then? Spike loved her and you didn’t but it hurts you too?”
Will had turned his face away to hide his tears and now he turned back almost angry.
“What have I been telling you Buffy? I have Spikes heart memories of course I feel it, you don’t have to play games with me, to stick pins in me to see where I will bleed, if you want to know something just ask.”
She sat upright on the couch and said softly, quickly
“No, no...I wasn’t, I’m not...or maybe I was and I’m sorry...I’m still trying to figure it out but I won’t...I won’t...” And when he turned and saw her stricken expression he sighed.
“It’s like Spike’s life, is a story...or one of your movies that I know and connect with on a visceral level...but it feels two dimensional...and me, myself. I feel real...”
Pause.
“I’m sorry for coming unglued, I’m really not in as bad shape...as I might look, it’s just things have been backing up these past few years...”
“Dawn...?”
“Dawn and you, I mean...” And here her expression grew a little vague as if she were trying to remember and then she murmured, “Spike...and then more recently the baby...”
Will’s eyebrow arched up and he felt a funny heartwarming sensation...
Buffy had a baby? A little bitty Buffy? But no, she looked so sad...so it couldn’t be good and so after a pause he offered quietly.
“There was a baby?”
“A miscarriage...a miscarriage and some people think that it doesn’t, shouldn’t hurt as bad...but don’t you believe it...”
“I won’t.”
He said simply and so she had to smile softly at him, at his strange and perfectly appropriate inappropriate canny remark like always...(like always)
And when he stayed quiet, she felt the need to go on to explain herself somehow to him...or her behavior.
“It has all just piled up and I guess it caught me now, because I thought I had fixed it or was working on the part of my life that...that might have been attracting bad things like that.”
Will said nothing but leaned forward and looked at her intently.
“I’m the Slayer. You know that, right? Of course you do, well guess what? The Slayer slays. I kill. I am a killer...”
“You kill demons, vampires...”
“Dead is dead. I kill, or I killed and that is the fact, lemme just call it what it is...see, because I thought I had figured something out, I kill and everyone around me dies–“
“–not everyone–“
“–everyone closest to my heart dies or has been killed or has left me and I think it has something to do with the law of magnets attracting mess...and...how can beautiful things grow around a killer?”
Will could think of counter arguments but decided against it for the moment, just let her talk.
“I think I lost the baby because, my, whatever, soul just became too hard, too much like death for a life to grow in...Jack thought it had to do with...something else...but I don’t think so...I think it was slaying...slaying for so long. And so I quit, for real, cuz I figured I’d tried the other way and even if I was wrong, well only time would tell and when you told me Spike was gone..”.
“It felt like more death...”
“Right. And, and it’s terrible having the rug pulled out again and again–“
“–I”m sorry, Buffy...”
“-No you kept yourself secret for a reason, but now that I know, well, it’s like, it feels like quitting slaying didn’t work cuz here is the old pattern all over again...and...” and here her voice trailed down and she just stopped talking just stopped.
Will sat for a moment and thought and then took a sip of tea found it cold and then got up and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on. He was conscious of buying time to think, to cull before speaking, she needed something, some insight, but what, what was true?
When he brought the two mugs back into the living room he found her sitting up on the couch like she was getting ready to go.
“Where are you going? You aren’t going anywhere, I have something to say I’m just not sure what it is, so I will begin and let’s just see where it goes, alright?”
She sighed and he handed her a mug of tea.
“Spearmint, still your favorite?”
“It’ll do.”
He chuckled.
“How long has it been since you’ve made this life change, what?”
“About two years...”
“Yes, yes and how long have you been slaying? What, almost twenty years now, right?”
“Something like that.”
“So if you weighed 500 pounds, how long would it take to loose the weight in such a way that it would never come back? Well, I’ll answer you, in about the time it takes to put it on, that’s how long.”
Silence and then.
“So you think I need to loose weight? You think I’m on the chubby side of the tub?”
He simply stared at her until she sighed and then said.
“Are you saying that it’s gonna take me another twenty years of no slaying in order to live peaceable like and stop major death outside the door?“
“Well, I don’t know, how could I know, but there are principles of cause and effect and every action having an equal reaction and so perhaps you might consider making some adjustment for the...energy of your life to change, that”s all.”
“That’s a lot.”
“I believe you understand what I mean.”
There was a pause and then he said, slowly, working his way through.
“Buffy... I believe, I hold to the notion that there is righteous action, that we all have a right and should defend ourselves, but who do you know–what warrior has ever been able to fight forever? There may be a turning point, a saturation level and even the best soldier gets...contaminated by killing. It should be that way. It’s good you have been able to stop yourself, it’s good that soldiers crack up on the battlefield–that kind of thing stops crusades. It’s the soul asking for an end. We should stop after defending...no crusade, no first strike, or else there is a very real danger righteous action turning into conquest.”
“I have never enjoyed this, never–I did it cuz it might save lives, but death is never a gift to anyone or anything.”
Silence for a moment but William still had something more to say.
“I know...that’s what makes you a hero, your capacity for mercy–but you knew it was hurting your ability to love even back in day with Glory. So I’m saying give yourself some credit for staying glued together for so long...and for retiring.”
Buffy said nothing but looked down into her tea and then took a sip.
“And there is one more thing...” and here Will looked away for a moment and said without looking at her.
“Maybe, perhaps, that is, when I saw you at the restaurant--I wasn’t going to approach you, I wasn’t...but when I felt you were in trouble--how could I not? And I helped..I think...”
“You think right, and thank you by the way...”
“And I realize you are sad about Spike...but perhaps, perhaps my coming into the circle of your life then...wasn’t an altogether terrible thing--perhaps, it wasn’t a harbinger of more pain...but something...good?”
And when she said nothing he dared to look up at her and saw that her eyes were brimmed with tears, but she was smiling too and so it seemed alright.
“Thank you...William. Ever since that night I wanted to find a way to thank you in way you would feel, but I know you didn’t want to see me and when this thing came up with Millie’s play...well, and I wasn’t planning on being around and then Millie needed battle strategy and then so...well it seemed like a good thing to do.”
“It was. It is. I’m already enjoying myself thoroughly, I mean--not this, not seeing you runny nose and red eyed...but with the whole experience--not that being with you here, isn’t nice. Because it is...oh blast, I keep putting my foot in it.”
Buffy laughed lightly. “I think I get it...can I ask you a couple more things and just get it out of the way?”
“You want to know what happened to Spike?”
She nodded.
Will drew in a deep cleansing breath looked down at the brown leather of the armchair and fingered a little burn mark there on the end of the arm there--made by cigarette or cigar ash or some forgotten spark. It made him crave the drag of a cigarette to clear his head for thinking.
Best to just say it.
“Spike killed Drusicilla, had to kill her and the other one, Angel. He killed him too.”
Buff drew in a sharp breath.
“And a host of other’s it seems. Most of the fifth floor staff at Wolfram & Hart and...and all of the members of the Circle of Thorns...which by that time at the end, included Angel.”
“Angelous.” Buffed whispered.
“No.” William said succinctly and now a trace of anger fired up his words. “Angel. Angel bought his way into the circle of thorns with an act of premeditated cold blooded murder, he thought this a necessary thing to do to gain a greater advantage, but that act of murder poisoned his heart, his soul beyond recall. Beyond recall. He never lost his soul and so Angelus wasn’t a factor, it was Angel poisoned completely and losing his mind and Spike could see no other way. There was no waiting, no strategy, only quick thinking, only being imperious in the moment that made it work.”
Stunned silence and then:
“He could have called me.”
Will hesitated and before he could answer Buffy answered for him.
“He thought I wouldn’t be able to do it, kill Angel...”
“That...and something that feels like the pressure of time, in the time it would have taken to call you, Angel or Dru could have read him a’right by then and they might have dispersed the circle or added to it or...in any case he would have lost the advantage...”
“And so he killed...everyone?”
Will looked at her and nodded slightly and said very softly.
“Everyone that he thought mattered or might have backed Angel, not knowing how far he had fallen. He could feel the growing evil in Angel, where others might have thought his coldness was something more akin to preparing for battle.”
‘William the Bloody.” Buffy breathed.
Will looked away at the remaining embers of the fire.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean...” And William waved his hand at her in a pish posh gesture but she had hurt him in some way that was hard to take back and then he said.
“Ironically he was thinking much along the same lines as you are now...he felt...” and here Will looked at her “extremely bad for what he had done, even though he felt it was the thing to do...”
“He saved the world from apocalypse..”
“Yes, yes, but interestingly he felt then, much as you do now...that he simply could not, or did not want to kill one more thing, demon, vampire, spirit or human...it was hard for him to imagine a world worthwhile that was worth doing that to keep it and so he wished he could become strong enough–“
“–wait one minute. Did you say he ‘wished’? No, no, Spike would not have wished anything into being, he knows how that always backfires.”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean...oh, OH. You mean a vengeance demon? He wished off a vengeance demon? No. No. That can’t be...”
Pause and then Buffy said, her voice rising slightly.
“How else? One minute he’s here and then you are? What is with that? He doesn’t want to be a person that kills anymore and so he wishes something like that and there you are...him turned inside out...”
Will looked confused for a moment trying to remember and then Buffy leaned forward and asked.
“What do you remember last from your world?”
“I...I was writing...I was writing on a book of verse. I had found a publisher, he was modern, and he liked my work and I was working...I was working almost all day and night and wandering the city too in all weather thinking, feeling and I pushed myself so hard..I believe, I believe I became ill, because then there was a fever and a feeling of floating one gets when one is in a fever–“
“You were turned–“
“–NO! No, I was never a vampire, never–“
“–Sorry, I’m just trying to get it straight–it seems to be such a big part of Spikes fate–“
“–Well, it’s not part of mine.”
He said this so firmly Buffy studied him and noted inside herself that this could be important, this distinction, but now he was going on, remembering:
“I was there...wandering the city...looking for...I was in, in a fever and then I was here. I was here, but I would only wake for a small time each day, I think to ease me in. And then the time that I was awake grew longer and longer and longer until I was awake and then I began to remember...”
“Where did you wake up? Where were you?”
“On...a reservation... in the Upper peninsula of Michigan and before you ask...I don’t remember how Spike got himself there, but Buffy, I must warn you....uh, I can see you are thinking this is a...spell of some kind and that perhaps it can be reversed, but Buffy...I believe, I suspect, I believe that I died in my world, it was a natural death...I think...and that I am as dead to my first world as it is to me. Which makes me think it’s not a spell...it felt more like an exchange...oh.”
“What?”
“Spike...well, he was full of self loathing, Buffy, I remember that and perhaps I am here–because I may be one of the few who was never turned into...a vampire.”
Buffy was looking at him.
He was telling her his truth...still, there was something he wasn’t saying as well, Spike was never any good at lying or concealing or whatever and perhaps that was an element of Williams nature because here there was certainly something else he wasn’t saying but they had spoken long enough and now didn’t seem the time to push. There was a lot to think about, so instead she said.
“Thank you William, thanks...if you think of anything else, if you remember anything else–will you let me know?”
“Of course, most certainly.”
“Thanks, you better get to bed now...you’ve got a big day tomorrow...er later today and you gotta be sharp around this crew. Not that you need the note–you did great today, by the way.”
“So did you. Will you stay? Please stay, I’ve a guest room–“
“Oh no don’t go to any trouble..”
“Please...the bed is already made up, there is no trouble...”
“Well...then, thanks, I do feel too tired to go out and try to convince a cab to take me to Astoria.”
“Yes, that’s a commute--no you must stay here, it is settled.”
And with that he stood up and gestured down the hall,
“The bathroom is the first door on the right and the guest room is the second door on the right, help yourself to towels but you can’t use my toothbrush. Sorry off-limits, can your self control extend that far?”
“I’ll work it out–can I use your toothpaste?”
He considered that for a moment and then said seriously. “Yes. Yes you may.”
Buffy nodded and gave him a soft smile and then he said.
“Excellent. So we will get along famously, right?”
“Fame, notoriety, star-crossed, whatever.”
And then he looked her in the eye and said.
“You are a hell of a woman, Buffy Summers.” Gave her a gentle but dazzling smile and then went down the hall and into his room on the left.
Buffy stared after him and made a conscious effort to keep breathing.
This man, er soul, er whatever, could drive her crazy...
*
Abraham: “Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
Sampson: I do bite my thumb, sir.
Abraham: Do you bite your thumb at us sir?”
William Shakespear
Romeo & Juliet Act I Scene I
*
William Ashley-Pitt was so tired that even the reality of one version of Buffy in the next room wasn’t enough to keep him awake and he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He was aware..if not actually heard the soft slide pat pad of her feet on the wood floor sometime during the late night or early morning and it sounded so right he simply rolled over and went back to sleep.
The alarm woke him. The soft insistent brrr burrr Burp and eventually he was persuaded to open his eyes in a word that seemed warmer somehow...or brighter perhaps.
He had done well for himself, since he had come back to himself and Annette and Larry Jackson of the Potawatomi tribe received a deal of credit for that, plus his own will and willingness and he had adapted and adopted this world and he had taken pleasure in it too. It had been a homey kind of pleasure, but pleasure of a kind. And now having Buffy in his world, in his sphere increased that pleasure past cuddly into keen.
He drew in a deep morning breath and sighed it out.
He swung out of bed and put on a robe to walk to the shower. Men might parade about in boxers and T’s on the television, but he still held for a little decorum and some modesty and there was Buffy to consider.
Or was there? It seemed awfully quiet out there in the apartment and he had a feeling of empty before he opened the door of his room and so he wasn’t surprised to find the guest room door open, the bed made and a crisp sheet of paper on the pillow.
This felt familiar. Too familiar and he had to smile at it. Buffy had opened herself up to him last night, and for some people that was an invitation to a deeper friendship and sometimes it was regretted and which was this?
He crossed to the bed and picked up the note and read this once and then twice.
William,
Thank you again for helping me last night and all the time, I left a little early; there was some stuff I have to set up before rehearsal this morning, I borrowed one of the t-shirts in the closest so I wouldn’t have to go back home, I’m sure you won’t mind, cuz that tiny little T will be way too small for you after I buy you a few lunches to fatten you up.
See you later
Buffy,
oh yeah and leave that sack lunch in the fridge silly British man, you’re in America and it’s all about keeping the econ going and that starts with buffet with Buffy today at 1:00.
I’m not pushing am I?
William Ashley-Pitt smiled.
Seems he had a new friend..er, old friend, oh bugger.
*
She did this.
This was something she did.
The world was the world and stuff happening was stuff happening–but this she did and left a Big Buffy thumbprint on it so there could be no doubt about it and so that was that but what now?
She had wanted to find him, and so she had–tracked him through undergrad and graduate studies at U of M, doctorate from NYU and now teaching at a small, intensely private college in New York, and this within twelve years.
She had been surprised, but then again she hadn’t.
The slight, tender looking man in glasses she had seen in the restaurant had prepared her to understand the road he had taken this past decade, and of course she had been curious and of course he had haunted her and so of course she had needed to see him.
No one knew this and to be honest, who was there left to tell? But last March she had gotten into her small blue car and had driven to Oneida, parked the car by the library and had waked the campus. Just like that.
One hour she was in Pennsylvania walking the battlefields of Gettysburg as if she hadn’t had enough of battlefields and ghosts and was still looking for some action or...something. Some thing. She had been doing the tourist thing, but without camera or anything to mark or make a permanent record outside her mind. And so she just walked and walked and didn’t think and tried to feel out:
Why?
How?
The day had been slightly overcast and there had been a mist hanging in the low end of where the land swelled down, down, as if it was the land itself that was haunted and not with people. The land was possessed with something formless but still seen in the sometimes mist like suspended tears.
And she had needed to turn to someone standing next to her and ask what do you think about that? What do you think is true?
And of course there had been no one standing there and so she had walked to her car and had stopped only for gas and coffee and cheese curls until she came to the place in New York. It was a small college, a small campus but there was lawn and trees and a feeling of...being safe. There was always something in the air at a university–always that feeling of being alive, of promises maybe, she couldn’t put it together better than that in her mind–but definitely a different vibe from the battle fields she visited. Oh yeah, there was a difference, a battle fatigued Spike might wanna hang out here and she could understand that, of yes, she could.
She walked the campus at will, willy nilly following her feet and then–look, there he is. Walking too, just like her–oh these bi-peds and the hundredth monkey doing it’s monkey dance and she wondered if walking was catchy...
There he was. He was cutting across her field of vision, maybe two hundred yards ahead--there he was in broad daylight, walking soft on the earth.
He had a soft footfall with a steady swinging gait and oh so close, close to what she remembered but the footfall was soft, an easement on the world.
And of course she couldn’t talk to this man, couldn’t call out. He had seemed to her like a wild thing, a deer or some such and must be wooed with a tender heart and in stages. Like holding a hand out with sugar cube or carrot and come...come...see? Come sweet thing, come to me...and who was she?
Battle scarred Buffy. Not sweet. Not someone to want around. (As if he had a right to judge)
And then she pushed this irrational anger aside and looked at the real thing.
He hadn’t wanted to see her. She remembered that sharply and still felt it keenly. He had come back into the world in Los Angeles, he had come back changed, (so it seemed) and that was an understatement and he hadn’t called her or tried to contact her in any way and she knew, she knew he hadn’t wanted her to approach him in the restaurant and truth spoken–she hadn’t been able to. His will was still so strong he had kept her at arms length and so now she moved back and stood behind a tree and felt him move away. Because seeing him now like this–it seemed to her he might be right. He seemed too tender for her and almost too warm for this world and so she stood there with her back to bark and felt him walk away into whatever world he had made for himself here and--let him go she told herself: let him be.
And she had.
But that soft feeling she had when she looked at him made her crave more not less. More eyeball ogling because it was proving more difficult to conjure up the memory of him in the restaurant or him walking or just him–and the images played over and over in her mind to stimulate her heart grew worn and she needed more.
But she felt she couldn’t approach him with empty hands and so like coaxing the wild deer with a treat that he might link to something he wanted, something like sustenance, she might be welcome and so had she started looking, subconsciously looking for a way?
And then Millie needed a new dramturge and had mentioned it only in passing and Buffy had--right there in that moment, a 50/50 split of half fear and half hope and what happened next in her life all depended on the slight lean to one way or the other and all within forty seconds. That was how fast she had to make her decision because it had to be in the moment, it had to be in the natural window of ‘oh, I know of someone who might be good for you’ before Millie went on to something else, global warming, maybe, because if she got going on polar bears drowning and no ice no more except as an ode in the cocktail–well, there would be no reeling back.
And so she had jumped.
Thinking just to give him this small offering, to show him this small door and if he wanted, and if he was suited to task well then, good for him and Millie, and then Millie had wanted a battle planner, a combat specialist and at first Buffy just thought Millie was trying to keep her busy, to give her something specific to do rather than roam the countryside in her small car looking for old battlegrounds–but no, Millie was too much of a professional to put people on the dole and so–oh god, it seemed right,
And so Buffy had made this happen and so it happened.
Consciously and sub con she did this.
And it wasn’t Spike.
It was the nightlight of Spike, the soft tender soul turned inside out for the world to see and now what?
She was sitting at the back of the theatre, staring at the empty stage.
She had told William that she had needed to do some stuff and indeed she had. She needed to think.
Well, she had brought him to this, to her and so she couldn’t very well give him the cold shoulder now, could she? She had asked him the hard things and he had answered, well, as much as he was comfortable with and all this to say: Spike killed Angel and William had killed Spike.
It was big and logic had nothing to do with sorting this out. Nothing. Spike killing Angel was something closer to comprehensible and so she looked at that first.
She stared at the empty stage and she couldn’t see it. William had told her, but she couldn’t see it. Spike had a reason, she knew he had a reason and still she couldn’t see it.
And so she looked at the other issue.
William had removed Spike from her world or had turned him inside out and was it like he said? He was only getting his own body back? His own right to live in the world? But this was Spike’s world not his and shouldn’t she be grateful to see some part of him somewhere in the world making the planet seem brighter?
She should and maybe she would....in time.
It was too big for her right now and was it O.K. to take this out on William? No, it was not.
She had made this happen, William had been living his life and she had made this happen and now she had made a lunch date and yes, amid all this mental rambling and deep think, she wanted to keep it.
There was a medicine for her in just sitting next to him, just being next to his warm heart and feeling her own love for the space he filled in whatever form he was in and she felt this so clearly she couldn’t deny it and what is love? Maybe it was just about being kind.
Seems she was going to find out.
And so what if this medicine came with a price tag called the truth? She had made this happen. Mostly because she was done with being inert and almost asleep at the wheel and if this was all part of waking up, then this is what it was.
And could she hope for a better wiser friend to walk this with?
No, she could not.
Strange, strange world twisting enemy into friend into love into lost into enemy into friend into love into crazy to separate one from the other.
She heard footfall; click, clack on the cold marble and voices out in the hall and oh there’s the laughter that means greetings and people coming soon. The actors were here.
Time to play.
*
“Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life;
Whole misadventured piteous overthrows
Do with their death bury their parents’ strife.
The fearful passge of their death-mark’d love,
And the continuance of their parents’ rage.
Which, but their children’s nought could remove,
Is now the two hours’ traffic of our stage;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.”
Slight Pause and then:
“He’s giving it all away.”
Will chuckled at the young actor playing Balthasar. Millie had decided that an obscure character in the play, someone from the crowd and picked almost at random should be the one to introduce the play to the audience.
In fact, that was how she had staged it–city street; people walking, talking; focus controlled by movement a loaf of bread tossed to the character standing behind Balthasar and then he begins to speak at first to those around him and then stepping forward to address the audience. Will loved it.
Millie was keeping the opening monologue which detailed the plot of the play and of course William agreed with her. It was the way Shakespeare had intended and so of course there was a greater purpose in it.
Will looked at the sheet before him, what was this fellows real name again? Oh there is was; Ted, well, he could call him Ted, Theodore or Teddy Bear but from here on out he would be Balthasar to him.
He was in his first session of the day with the young men in the first scene of the play. Balthasar, Sampson, Gregory and Abraham, he had a separate session this afternoon with Andy/Benvolio, Amal/Romeo, George/Tybalt and Tony/Mercutio. Right now, those boys were whacking jolly with broomsticks with Buffy somewhere upstairs in the theatre.
He was amazed at how much fun he was having, he had thought the morning might drag until the lunch break, (and date) but no, how could it? When contemplating the Master and such holy words.
Hearing them spoken out loud like this, loosened something tight he held inside himself. The words undid the tightness of his mind and loosened his thoughts into feelings.
Amazing, amazing healing magic.
He brought his attention back to Ted AKA baby-faced Balthasar.
And now the other actors were joining in the discussion.
“Yeah, Ted’s right, he absolutely gives the whole story away right there at the beginning.”
It was the actor playing Abraham; he pushed his shocking white blond hair away from his face and continued saying; “He absolutely shoots his wad...uh so to speak...”
And they all laughed and the Prof smiled and nodded and then said.
“Well, let’s consider that. Let’s consider the notion that everything has a place and a purpose and so assuming that Shakespeare knew what he was doing why would he give the story away?’”
The actors looked blank for a minute and then ‘Balthasar said.
“Well, the first best reason to give a story away is so people don’t get their hopes up–if you say right off this is gonna end bad folks, everybody is gonna be remembering that and, maybe be braced for it.”
William’s eyes danced.
“That’s excellent, Balthasar–“
“Ted–“
“–So you say, but yes, yes and if we know it’s going to end badly, then one of the reasons the play is written isn’t for suspense, is it? No, it’s for the journey. It is a way Shakespeare ‘plays fair’ and respects his audience. He lets you know up front, this is what’s gonna happen and in doing this wants the focus to be on–is why is this happening? If one knows the end; the emphasis of the tale shifts to: how did this happen? And why did this happen.”
There was a pause as he watched the young men all raise their eyes simultaneously in an ‘ahhh...’
And then:
“Wait a minute, isn’t this a real old story anyway? Like, older before Shakespeare did it?” Samson asked
“Yes, yes there were ancient stories told over and over and handed down through the generations and this is one of them–“
“–Oh man, so Romeo and Juliet is just a fanfic version of another story?” Ted exclaimed.
Beat.
“I’m sorry...” Will asked “What is fanfic?”
The young men laughed and finally Ted managed.
“A geek like you, uh sorry Prof, uh would, should know about fanfic–there are fanfic followings for almost every T.V. show or major film that has any kind splash in the world–“
“–people write their own versions of the story or totally rewrite what has happened to their liking–it’s a big thing, man ...like, like The Man from U.N.C.L.E. Do you know the show?” Sampson said
William looked baffled for a moment and then a penny dropped of Spike and Dru playing their version Napoleon and Illya sexcapades and he repressed a shudder and said; ‘yes, yes he remembered.’
“Well, the show wasn’t that bad.” The actor playing Samson said a little miffed at the Prof dogging his show.
“But I think I see what you mean and yes, actually, yes, I suppose I might call Shakespeare a fanfic writer. He reworked old stories, Anthony & Cleopatra, The Henry’s of course and others, and so that leads to the question, why would one retell a story? Why do you write fanfic Sampson? I am assuming you partake.”
“Yeah, I’ve been know to dabble..and I guess, well I do it...to get more, to get more story...and not just more stories, plural...but to go deeper maybe...”
Quiet in the room as they all thought about that and then the Prof said.
“Exactly. And so Shakespeare retells this story everybody knows, in order to tell his version of it, to personalize it. Because every person in the world holds an idiosyncratic view of the whole and we won’t get closer to the whole until we hear the same story from every single person revisited until it is something closer to true.”
They looked at him a little baffled.
“Imagine a world where every person holds one part of the truth and it will only make sense when it is all brought together into a complete harmony. And so Shakespeare chooses an ancient tale everyone knows and has an opinion about, to complete the harmonic about what? Love and...war...”
He let that sink in for a moment until Ted breathed.
“Whoa...whoa...that is deep, that is almost too deep for me to get...I hear you and I can just barely get it, but is this what he is really doing? Is it that complex? And if it is, how in the world am I gonna do justice to that?”
William laughed.
“You are doing fine Ted, really you all are doing well..you are all doing well--”
“–There is Maive–“ ‘Gregory’ smirked
“We don’t discuss other actors performances unless it is to expand our knowledge, is that clear?”
Suddenly it was all cold Prof and putting the hammer down and Gregory looked properly chastised and muttered.
“Sorry Prof...”
“Yes, well but back to the point, Ted, you speak the words before you like eating a fine meal. I would suggest that you don’t worry about digesting while consuming–check this with Millie, but my suggestion would be to simply be in the moment and let the words work you. With Shakespeare all one need do...all one need do is to open ones spirit and be willing, observe the punctuation and the words will work you...”
“You make it sound like magic.” ‘Abraham’ observed softly.
This was his first observation out loud ans so he drew the attention of the small group.
“It is. It is magic of the highest order and if you treat it with respect it will open you in a way to heal the audience and each other. You felt a glimmer of it at the read through. It can be done. Believe it.”
Silence for a moment and then Abraham asked almost as a challenge.
“Show us. Do something–cuz there is nothing like seeing is believing.”
The other actors said nothing but looked to the Prof to see what he would do–he was after all, asking a great deal of them and there was this thing about the crab saying walk this way but scuttling sideways and out of sight when it was time to step up and which would it be?
Will nodded almost imperceptibly. And then lowered his head and drew in a deep cleansing breath and let it out in the actor’s way and then drew in another and when he exhaled there was a feeling, a distillation of molecules in space, of spotlight and focus and now none of the actors could take their eyes off of Prof Will if they tried. He began:
“She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
And then the Prof turned his head slightly and addressed the space over his audience’s heads;
“Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly. “
And so lost were they, so many hard lumps to the heart moving into tears into childish trust, so absolutely caught up in the story spin were they--they all turned in concert to look for the messenger. The doorway was empty.
For a moment...and then Maive Bushwell stepped into it.
“I’m sorry, I’m early, I think...I guess I couldn’t wait to begin...so, I’m early...”
There was a stunned silence and then Professor Ashley-Pitt’s soft kind voice.
“Right on time, I should think...”
*
Benvolio: “Part fools!
Put up your swords, you know not what you do.”
William Shakespeare
Romeo and Juliet Act I scene 1
*
“I know I stink, I know I do, I don’t know why Millie cast me, well yeah I guess I do, the name recognition thing of course, and I come cheap because, because–“
And here Maive leaned forward still wiping the tears from her eyes.
“–look at this...” She wiped her tears and showed him the water on her fingers. “Look at what you did to me...I was out in the hallway and I heard you, of course and, and...I was O.K. but it got into me, those words from Macbeth got into me and, and made this mess and now I can’t seem to stop...”
She wiped her nose on the sleeve of her black angora sweater and gone completely was the Hollywood image of vixen a la puss and here she was as she was. She wiped her face again and searched in her bag for something to blow her nose and finally settled on a receipt from the bottom of the donut bag. She blew her nose with the hard slip of paper and William cringed a little but said nothing–just let her get it out. He understood how the text could affect one, oh yes he did and he respected her for giving way to it.
“I know I stink, I know I stink up the joint when I open my mouth and it comes out...the way it does...but here’s the thing Will, here’s the thing....I don’t stink in my mind...”
And here she gestured to her head and tapped her skull lightly once.
“In my dreams I can do this, what you just did...I’ve dreamed it and in my head I can do it, but then it just comes out stifled and I hate it too because I know I’m lying I know it’s not the truth...but I don’t know, don’t have a clue about how to fix it.”
Will simply looked at her. The room had cleared of course the boys had their break now before going down to Buffy and Maive was early but he let the boys go because they had to digest what they had taken in...and Maive had to let it out. He waited to hear the thing she would need to speak out loud and she was almost there, but hadn’t quite said it yet.
“I can do this role, I can Play Lady Capulet, I know it’s smaller than what some people think I should want, but fuck ‘em, that’s what I say–but I don’t only want to do this part well..I want to tear it up. I want to do my job like I feel I was born to do...and that’s it I guess.”
And here she looked down and waited for judgment.
Will leaned forward and took her hand and held it in his gently.
“I believe you can do it. If you want it, if you stay this willing, I believe you can do what you have in your mind.”
She raised her tear stained face and nodded.
“But you don’t need confirmation from me–this thing you want to be has been pushing at you all your life so far, I’d wager, to Hollywood and now out of Hollywood and never mind the bollocks; if you want this thing, it’ll mean breaking habits of speech, of thinking and...submission...”
This caught her attention as he suspected it would.
“I’ve seen you on the television, I may not know your work as the others do, but I’ve seen you and there is a certain kind of femme fatal that plays at being the pudding when she’s really the blade, right?”
She straightened her back and her head went a little back. Fightin’ words body language and Will shrugged at them.
“Women do this for their own reasons, and this isn’t about judgement but to be a great actor is to approach the text as a child, especially Shakespeare, to approach it tenderly, unmasked...so it is all about the words and then the words become you and then you are what you speak.”
“I’m tender...I can be all about tender, ask anyone...”
He simply looked at her and said.
“It is about being vulnerable, it is about opening your heart in a way that feels absolute and beyond recall...”
She had begun to wring her hands in her lap and Will knew she understood and waited for a moment and than asked in a tremulous voice.
“How...how do I survive...how do you survive doing that?”
And then he said something that shocked them both.
“Love love.”
*
Buffy was not loving this–she was not having a good time with these battle boys and broomsticks and was just on the verge of banning them from blows FOREVER when she took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down.
“O.K. O.K.; these guys are actors, they are actors, not warriors, although actors were warriors of a kind but obviously not enough to understand--no, no, it wasn’t them. They were graceful and savvy and would make excellent warriors. It was her battle plan for the day. Her miscalculation. Seems today was gonna be all about taking responsibility.
She had planned taking them through the stages of the choreography in segments and then pull it all together into a whole and it wasn’t working...because, because they were seeing only the smaller pieces and so couldn’t grasp the poetry of the whole.
What was it William had said about treating the play like some kind of big painting kind of thing? Yeah maybe something like that.
“O.K. guys, it’s almost time for lunch and we’ve been working the parry and thrust for a few hours now, lets run sequence one through four before we break...”
She felt the collective sigh, if not actually heard it–that’s O.K. she would get it. Now, how to do this big picture thing? Just as she was wondering this, she noticed William slipping quietly into the back of the theatre and then Maive Bushwell walking cozy behind him and just as her brows drew together at this, Dorothy, the girl playing Juliet and Rhonda Gains the late thirty-early forty something twice nominated academy award actress and yeah these creds kinda followed her around followed close behind.
Huh...well, his class thing must have broke up early to come in here...hmm, and now what other thoughts could she think to fill up her head to cover that quick little heart acceleration thing?
She dared to look up and catch his eyes and was relieved to find him looking just as scared as she felt but as soon as they saw the welcome in each others eyes–well, it was better and ah! I can breath again.
She nodded her head for him to come down closer and so William and friends came down to the front row to watch and of course the boycrew on stage noticed the femmes in the house, how could they not and now she could almost feel them puffing up their chests in concert for a tomcat sing and swing out. Well, not on her watch.
“Now, now, bank down the fire boys, “ She said soft and low for their ears only; “... plenty of time to show off later...right now, it’s just about going slow and hitting your mark and the routine.”
They squared off on positions and Buffy called out. “O.K. mark one...”
And so they went through the sequence they had been drilling all morning and they had it... technically; but there was something missing, the spirit of life...something.
Buffy looked out to William and saw his brows were knitted together as if he too were seeing something wrong. He had that wizened cock-headed look Spike would get just before he critiqued one of her battle moves or offered a suggestion--it was almost as if he was biting his lip to hold back a comment.
Suddenly Buffy had an idea. The big picture, they needed to see, to actual see the battle sequence so they could have a picture in their mind, the way one needed to witness martial arts or a complete dance move. Buffy needed a sparring partner who knew what he was doing to show these guys what it should look like.
“O.K. guys. Hold.”
She walked to the edge of the stage and got down on her haunches and beckoned for William to come closer and so he got up from his seat and approached the stage.
“First of all, hi...”
“Hello...” He said simply his wide warm gray eyes looking into hers and she had to blink and take a breath and then she just asked.
“Look, I need some help, I need to show these guys what it looks like, I need a sparring partner who knows what he’s doing...um...just how much do you remember?”
He knew what she was asking and he hadn’t touched a weapon in eleven years, well, he hadn’t touched a weapon ever, really and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to, could, or should--almost as if there was an inner barrier or edict against it–
–Buffy saw him searching himself and then said quickly.
“It’s all right, forget it, I can break and call the academy where I work out and maybe find someone...”
“But you would lose a day maybe more...”
“Yeah, but it’s my own fault, I shoulda thought of this–“
(Do it you ponce...)
“–It’s fine, I can do it. I...”
“Can you? You sure?”
“Of course.”
Well he wasn’t sure, no indeedy, not at all, but he didn’t want to see Buffy lose face and, and he’d seen the moves and they were simple and of course he had fencing experience from his school days, if it came to relying on that–but there had been a BIG inner prodding that was almost a push and so now he found himself on stage taking off his tweed and laying it carefully on the back of a chair. He was rolling up his shirt sleeves as he heard Buffy explaining what was coming next to the boy crew.
Ollie, like any good stage manager sensing something big coming had run to get Millie to come see the goings on and so the house was filled with almost the entire cast by the time William turned to face Buffy.
“Shoes.” She said simply.
He looked down. Oh right, street shoes were poor form indeed for combat, rubber skids and a land mine waiting to happen and where did that thought come from?
He leaned against the stage managers table and took off his shoes and then after an inner nudge his socks, which were almost as deadly.
Barefooted he stepped onto the mat. It wasn’t as spungy as it looked and some part of him said, good, good for Buffy picking a dancers floor to get them ready for the real thing.
“Do you need to see it again?” Buffy asked softly. He looked into her eyes and she looked as calm as a cat on the couch in sunshine and if she was having any qualms or second thoughts he was seeing none of it. Yes, he would like to see it again but now there was another hard push from deep inside him and so he said:
“No...” But it came out sounding more like an observation than a statement and there was a round of chuckling from the gallery. Great. They thought he was being funny–they wanted funny...well, just wait until they saw him fight. What was he thinking? Just how well did this body remember how to fight?
*
Buffy’s heart was racing although she knew she remained calm and it wasn’t nerves...it was...it was that call...that heart race beating to meet a mate. A match. It was the call to action, the call for her first best way to solve anything: action and resolution and after all the mental twisting in her mind it was feeling good to face off with the foe and just duke it out.
She looked at William and he was looking dazed indeed, well, this would wake him up. This might be crazy but she was always one to trust her instincts and now something else warned her that he might end up disliking her for doing this; something about killing the messenger--but, still, it seemed right.
Well, he needed something to sharpen his attention before they began and it would be a simple thing.
Buffy now had two broomsticks in her left hand and she called out to him.
“Ho!”
He looked her immediately in the eye and she hefted one of the broomsticks longways through the air at him. She threw it hard, not her hardest of course, but he caught it neatly, expertly with a snap of fingers around the girth that smacked the air.
It worked, having to react without thinking spanked something awake in William and now he looked Buffy back in the eye seeming none too grateful for the siren. She almost smiled, but did not.
Good. He was a little pissed. If he was a little pissed he wouldn’t stop and think.
“On garde?” She asked
“One moment...”
He replied and then studied the broomstick fashioned after a sword complete with handle, he hefted the broomstick feeling it’s weight and then twirled it in the air at first slow and then there was the hard swing of wood cutting through air and the satisfying smack as it came to a stop against his clasped palm.
“DON’T do that at home kids” Buffy slipped out sideways all the while never taking her eyes from her opponent as he hadn’t taken his from hers. There was a soft chuckle now, but nothing more. Oooh baby, this might be interesting.
“Sequence one through four, quarter speed.” Buffy announced
They began and ran the sequence in quarter speed. It was something just a little faster than slow motion and everyone could see every beat of the battle ballet and it was a dance, it was. Even in slow motion or because of it there was a languorous spirit of immortality and immolation. The push and yield and push again of life and death. When they finished there was a collective sigh of relief and an almost perceptible feeling of withholding applause.
They were doing one of the battle sequences from the opening scene of the play, it was the scuffle between two of the servants and Buffy had wisely staged this opening battle as a mimicry of the grownup version of the battle to come. These servants were aping their masters and making the family feud their own.
It was a shadow play at being bold, with hesitant opening blows that, once felled, turned into pain and then into anger and then into melee. It was how something small between strangers could escalate into unstoppable.
Parry, deflect, counter and thrust, deflect, in close to a clench and in each others face breathing each others breath and then push away and on garde again.
It was a simple sequence, as William had observed...but now it was alive, now it could be experienced as a story.
“Full speed!” someone called out from the gallery–was it Tony?
Buffy and William squared off again and Buffy noted the rate of his breathing had increased, but he seemed very steady on his feet and not at all fatigued and he nodded to her silent question. Yes, yes he was fine.
A beat, and then they went at each other full speed. That is, full speed for the theatre which was perhaps still three quarters of real time.
It was stunning. Parry, deflect, counter and thrust deflect, in close to a clench breathe in the breath of the one you love to hate and then push away to begin again.
Now there was applause led by Millie and as she stepped forward to congratulate them Will said this:
“But this isn’t real, is it Buffy?” And that even tone, that cold look in his eye should have been a warning and Buffy’s brows pulled together in a silent question but he was already speaking again.
“Millie, would you like to see realtime speed and intent? Not that I would ever advocate it, mostly because it would be too fast for the audience to follow..but for the education of it...”
Millie looked to Buffy, who, a little puzzled now, looked at William. But he gazed her steadily in the eye and she couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking. They would be getting into dangerous territory and she hadn’t been in battle for years--didn’t really know if she wanted that, that feeling again and then instantly she knew something of what William was about. It didn’t make sense–but it was a bit of tit for tat.
She had pulled something in him out from hiding and so she wanted to get real did she? Well, they would get real.
She looked down at the mat and thought, fair enough. Good for the gander...good for the goose...and so said softly.
“Real time, real battle, three repetitions.”
She was calling for the sequence to be repeated three times, as it would go by so fast, they would need at least three cycles to make the impression William wanted to make.
She looked at William and it felt like she was saying goodbye. He could never match her strength and speed he could only match her battle lust and that might mean goodbye friend.
But she had been called out in the ancient way and instinct had said this was the thing to do and so she would do it. She watched him deep breathe as he gathered his Chi into the hard knot he would need for battle speed and then they were at it.
They did seven cycles instead of the three.
He was stronger than Buffy imagined he would be, granted, he was out of shape, but still stronger than what she had imagined and so she had to put out enough battle blows to make it real, to make it hurt. She had to hurt him to stop him. But he took it, not because he was physically strong, but because of his real strength–that damned stubborn will.
They did three cycles of the sequence and then as if by mutual consent they began again and again as if they were having dialogue, then a disagreement, then a drag out argument on the street, then fisticuffs fit to kill, pain to anger to explosion to exposing the terrible, terrible thing inside that needs, needs justice in blood spilled and then blood like tears flowing at your grave, so sorry, so, sorry my dearest friend to me to teach me this about myself through your death I love you I kill you where did you go?....
It was the story of Romeo and Juliet, of war and peace and men and women...
When they finished they were standing back in the first position, William was breathing very hard, and she could see no visible mark on him, but knew he would have a bruise or two in the morning, he had fallen flat and hard those last two rounds but he had rebounded and now they stood in front of each other, having said all the terrible secret things they had needed to say (you left me no I didn’t you left me...) to each other and what now?
Something was sure, he was angrier with her than she would have thought she warranted...and, and she had been angry too, and that had been a surprise; she had been angry at him for loving her so much she could only love him back and then leaving her, for not trusting her, for taking on Angel...for taking over Spike...it didn’t matter that it wasn’t logical–this was a disagreement that transcended space and time, she knew why she was angry with hin, but why was he angry with her?
It had felt like something to do with her leaving him...behind...and here was the thing, it had felt like Williams’s anger not Spikes.
And.
And they had fought until they had hurt each other enough to want peace again--did he want peace again?
As she thought this, he stepped toward her and she followed suit throwing her stick aside and as he extended his hand to shake hers she took his warmly, gratefully in both of hers and held him there until she felt him understand the thing she couldn’t say.
Sorry...sorry
And he nodded.
Millie had moved quietly into the center of the room. Now she was speaking.
“And this my friends, is why we do theatre, this is why we are telling this story. I want you to keep this in your mind and heart as we work through this together. Buffy and Will have just taken an enormous risk and encapsulated this entire play for us to feel. This is what it is in the real. We are in the battle of our lives on this planet now, and we learn til it hurts...or die.”
She walked over to the Buffy and Spike and said very softly.
“Thank you.”
There was silence for a moment and then Ollie with his perfect timing called out.
“That’s lunch everybody.”
*
Capulet: “God’s bread it makes me mad!”
William Shakespeare
Romeo and Juliet
*
And so they all went to lunch. That is, they ALL went to lunch together. They had been through such an amazing experience, it felt right to stick together, to tom, tom the tribal thing and this was a opportunity for a cast and crew bonding moment and so when Millie announced that lunch was on her who could refuse? Who would want to?
Well, Buffy, for one, she wanted to be still and sit still with William and work this out in words maybe--but at the same time, no, she too felt the pull to stay together and after so many years of feeling alone and without family it was a good solid feeling.
And she and the Prof were treated with a palpable new respect. No one mentioned the battle dance, there was no need, it was already becoming subtext for the larger picture. Actors are born imitators and scavengers and they were already gleaning and considering what to add to their own performance which was as it should be and certainly what Prof Will Ashley-Pitt had intended and so why was he pulling himself so far away? He had achieved his goal, she had done what he wanted, but now he wouldn’t look at her.
She had stayed close by his side all the way from the Theatre and into the restaurant, which was only two blocks down on seventh Avenue and while he hadn’t actually pulled away from her on the walk to the Hotel which hosted a buffet lunch--he wasn’t ‘with’ her either. He couldn’t seem to look her in the eye and was he angry with her? Truly, really angry?
Hadn’t they just made peace?
Millie sat at the head of the table and it seemed a forgone conclusion that the place of honor that is, to her left and right were for Buffy and William and the table filled up quickly leaving those two spaces open and nothing left to do but sit in them.
And so he was sitting across from her all the way through the meal and while he looked at her and even smiled and made small talk, small talk...she definitely had the impression he was slipping away.
At one point in the meal she felt Millie take her right hand and squeeze it gently. She looked at her friend and Millie simply looked her in the eye and said.
“Pass me the bread, please...”
Buffy looked around her, but the bread was over there between William and that, that, she person that Maive What’sherbush.
“Bread please...” She said a little over loud to interrupt their almost intimate conversation.
“Oh, oh...yes of course...” William stumbled and picked up the bread basket and handed it to Buffy barely looking up at her as he did, her fingers brushing his when she took the basket and felt a definite spark and the shock of it trilled pleasantly up her arm.
She looked him directly in the eye for just that fraction and knew he felt it too and then she understood something.
It’s not that he didn’t want to look at her--he couldn’t look at her. Oh. Oh.
Something big was going on with him and every time he looked at her stirred that thing into confusion. It’s not that he wasn’t feeling something around her, it’s that, he was.
Men.
Well that was different. O.K. Just give him some time to sort it out.
She handed the bread basket to Millie.
“Bread? Oh no, no thanks, I’ve got my weekly dose of carbs with this ravioli–thanks though.”
Buffy looked at her until Millie cocked her head and winked and Buffy shook her head.
Millie was an excellent director, she could stage any scene and pull any character by the strings. On and off stage.
She was also a very good friend.
Well, Buffy could be a good friend too and wait for William to come around.
*
The thing was.
He wasn’t coming around. At least he wasn’t coming around her. He was certainly finding time to go around with the Hollywood bush-barley-undercover-in-a-short-skirt–oh yeah, he was finding time to be around her.
But he was keeping his distance from Buffy. Still.
Days had passed and then it was one week and now it was tapping toward two and Buffy had tried, she had.
First she had tried giving him some space to process and then she had tried joking and conjoling him to come to lunch with her, but always, always there was something else or someone else who needed his attention for by now it was clear that he was helping all the actors in a real way. And no character was too small or large to take a note or suggestion. From Peter to the Prince they all loved him, because he helped them. He was helping them find themselves in the words and liberating performances they hadn’t known possible. He worked tightly with Millie and Millie had Buffy sit in with their bull sessions so she could get the feel of the characters for the more complicated battle scenes.
But intuitively she knew she shouldn’t ask for Williams assistance again and that one time after that group lunch when she tentatively suggested that she could get a sparring partner from her club if he was too busy and before she could finish the sentence he had cut her off saying.
“You do that.”
She had looked sharply at him but he was looking away and then walking away toward the theatre.
What? What? What was with these men! What?!
What? Was he angry that he was sexually attracted to her?
Was he angry that there was a bond between them? They had just about made war/sex/love in that fight in front of everybody and tarnation too and so: what? What was his problem? He certainly hadn’t hesitated or been timid during any part of the staged battle, after warming up to it--he had gone after her pell mell and with hearty intention. So what? WHAT?
And what was with this Maive person hanging around him and on him and he certainly had time to go to lunch with her didn’t he? And, and people were talking. They were talking...stuff...
He was acting like...like that asshole what’s his face Parker, no that’s not right, Parker at least canned her to her face and Angelous at least tortured her which was clear enough but William was just...not there.
It was the brush off, big time. He was giving her the brush off, he was attracted to her...she felt it, but now she also felt him trying to turn himself off around her--he wanted her, but he was choosing to brush her off him.
As if.
As if after their long history it would ever be that easy.
They were sitting out in the house watching a run through of act one. Battle scenes and all. The boys hadn’t graduated to blades yet, but they were on their way, oh yes they were and Buffy knew they were doing very well and was a little eager to see Millie (and Williams) reaction.
But she was the one surprised.
Maive, the pouty lipped go for the easy laugh mediocre actress was almost unrecognizable. She was good. She was damn good. Everybody was doing very well indeed and the scenes rolled almost seamlessly into each other, Tony as Mercutio was a stand out and of course Dorothy and the Nurse were brilliant and Romeo was impressive, so many fine actors and perhaps Maive was standing out because she had come the farthest...but that wasn’t it.
It wasn’t.
She was a successful T.V. actress because she had charisma, she had been cast for television because all one need do was put her in front of the camera and not just for looks but for the way she shone and she still had that...and now talent too. She spoke her lines from her very viscera. Buffy had felt sparkles of emotional energy move from Lady Capulet as she spoke and moved and even she knew--that was the beginning of a master.
Everyone knew it. No one said it outloud. But Buffy noticed looks and nods to her. Nods of approval and surprisingly, Maive didn’t fawn over these small attentions but turned aside, almost sincerely shy and close to tears.
Damn.
Maive Bushwell was a good actress and a good person and, and William had found it.
He was a teacher indeed.
Her boys had done very well in the combat scenes and Millie and Ollie and staff made their appreciation known, but it was Williams reaction she wanted to see.
He still hadn’t offered comment though and so she thought it was up to her to break the biscuit.
They were sitting halfway back in the house and discussing this and that and getting ready for Millie to give notes before striking for the day and in a pause when Ollie got up to call the actors together for notes Buffy turned to William and said.
“Everybody sounds wonderful...I...I can hear every word...” To which he simply nodded and when he said nothing she added. “Maive is wonderful, really wonderful...”
“Yes, yes...she did it herself...she wanted it, and so she made it happen...” He said kind of obscurely and without even looking at her, which pissed Buffy off more than a little.
“Oh, right, like she just all of a sudden became, like, Vanessa Redgrave, with no special help, no special time, or stuff from you...”
“Not Vanessa Redgrave more like Lynn Redgrave...” He casually sniped back.
Before Buffy could deck him and it was lights out indeed Millie cut in quickly.
“O.K. that’s it. I’ve been watching you two and you can live your lives in whatever way you want, but not on my dime and time. You both are extremely valuable to me for pretty much the same reasons and I’m going to get up and go down there to talk to the actors and you two are going to get up and take this...somewhere else, where hopefully you won’t be heard, except maybe by Ollie who will report back to me, because we have the Mercutio/Tybalt battle scene coming up and then Tybalt and Romeo’s scene and I want you both on board.”
And here she softened her voice somewhat.
“Will, I know I hired you to dramturgue, but you are an excellent collaborator to Buffy’s battle choreography and your understanding of these characters can help her to do her best...I’m sorry, but you are gifted teacher and emotional conduit and so I am asking you two to go deal with this thing...or...go have sex...”
And at seeing William’s face turn red she amended that by saying.
“Sorry...go...take the ferry to Staten Island... and come back ready to work.” And then she started to walk away but then turned back to add softly.
“But please come back, O.K.?”
They both nodded like chastised children and when Millie reached the stage they heard her call out.
“In order to make this brief, because you all did so well, Buffy and the Prof will give you their notes tomorrow morning...” This was greeted with happy nods. Good, great, this meant they might get home at a reasonable hour.
And so Buffy and William got up and when they were halfway up the aisle, jolly good Andy, the productions Benvolilo called out to them:
“A cheer for the Owl and the Pussycat!”
This got a good natured laugh and then there was a deliberately nonplused chorus of ‘yea’s and more happy laughter.
There was nothing like being in a wonderful play with wonderful people and knowing if you stayed on this track–you were going to blow New York City A-way.
And there were two of the reason for the success to come and yes theatre people were generous and wonderful and knew when to nod to talent.
Buffy and William left as quietly as they could amid the hub and bub and once outside the theatre building they stood facing each other and finally Buffy said,
“I don’t know what to say to you. I’ve tried in so many ways to talk to you but now I don’t know how. I...I might apologize...but, but I asked you if you wanted to do the fight thing, and I asked you on the side so you could have said ‘no’ and it would have been nothing, but you’ve been mad at me ever since then...or...or something and so I’m not gonna apologize if anything, you should apologize to me...cuz you’ve been rude...and, and bad you’re the one who put me on the spot to do it for real, when you know I don’t wanna fight like that anymore...and...well?”
She looked up at him and when he said nothing she asked a little more softy, “What’s the matter, William? What’s going on, I thought...I thought we were becoming...friends.”
She watched him as he looked up and to the side as if going through a very long list and had to take a moment to sort and stack all of what was wrong and finally settled on item number one.
“I don’t want to be Spike, not for you, not for anything.”
Silence as she looked up at him for a long moment. Her brows pulled together slightly. Interesting choice of words. Not: ‘I’m not Spike’ which he had already declared, but: ‘I don’t want to be Spike.’
Well.
“I can think of a lot worse things to not want to be but what’s that got to with a tornado in Kansas?”
She stepped closer and then he raised his head, looked in her eye and unsmiling, said.
“I...I don’t like Spike...what, he was, what he did...you have no idea, you don’t realize...and, and you love him Buffy. You love him...”
And then silence as if that simple sentence said it all in spades to dig up the dead.
Instead of answering him at once, Buffy said.
“Let’s walk, O.K.?’
And then without waiting for a response she started walking down 35th to 7th avenue turned right and when she looked over her shoulder she found him at her side.
They walked in quiet for at least two minutes, just walking in New York in the Fall and breathing in the scent of ocean that was never far from the senses.
“Can you give me a little more to go on?”
William looked down as they walked and shook his head slightly and then said.
“Fighting like that...on stage...and I know it’s not your fault, not in fact, but in the fiction of my mind...being in the moment, well, there was this feeling, of what would I do? How far would I go, what would I be...in order to receive your attention and....respect. And it hurt me to do it and I did it...but I felt if I reached down any further I would be going backwards somehow....and so being around you...”
Well that was a twist.
Being around the Slayer felt like being pulled into a black void of violence coming soon.
She drew in a breath.
“Well, at least you’re honest, lemme think for a minute, you kinda surprised me.”
They walked in silence for a while down 7th avenue past shops and white lights and people hurrying and hustling and well...they were down in front on the post office across from Madison Square Gardens when Buffy stopped and leaned against the stone column framing the building. William stopped and watched her with his hands in his pockets.
“Well, a couple of things I guess...the first is, well...everyone you meet is a high water mark or a low water mark, someone to wanna be like or avoid and so people can inspire each other and so if I inspired Spike even a little bit to make the changes he did, I’m glad about it, cuz he sure inspired me...and so where are you gonna run or hide and not be affected by other people? You wanna blame me cuz you went Conan, and you can, sure you can live that way, but it’s kinda cheap if you ask me...”
“Buffy...”
‘No, I’m not angry...listen to my voice, hook into me William, I’m not angry, you were being strait with me and so I am too...there were no games between Spike and me and you can say you don’t wanna be like Spike but don’t kid yourself too much because he couldn’t lie and neither can you and where do you think that trait comes from? You have your soul, but guess what? He had the same soul and your traits affected his demon and so it all boils down to this: You say you are not Spike, that you don’t wanna be Spike, but guess what? You sure feel like Spike to me. Well, maybe more like the cleaned-up version, like you have this old quilt that hasn’t been cleaned in two decades and then when it is: poof. William. Maybe like that, and so we can have a debate over semantics, over me referring to you in this life without the disclaimer of ‘oh that’s not really me.’ But you’re an honest man and so be honest...you really think, as stubborn as you are that I or anyone can make you be or do anything you don’t wanna be or do? Back there when we were on stage–were you fighting me? Or yourself?”
Silence.
“This is the moment to cue the balloons for the big self discovery...but I know it’ s not that easy and so I will say the second thing...”
And here Buffy took in a breath and looked out across the street at Madison Square Gardens and tilted her head as she looked at the running lights advertising the next gig.
“Why do you think I’m helping Millie?”
And here she looked up at William who was looking back at her, his eyes large and a little moist.
He shook his head slightly to indicate that he didn’t know, but said nothing.
“Sure, she is a friend, a good friend and we’ve been through a jam together in the past, and sure that will bring people together...but why be here in New York helping to stage some combat scenes, some mock battle in a faux story of people long ago and talking strange. Why be here and not on some new Hellmouth, or some back street slaying and before you get big headed, it has something to do with you but not everything to do with you, and so I’m here because I don’t wanna Slay anything anymore. It was getting to me, it was turning me hard, it was turning me into someone who...who couldn’t carry a baby...and Jack thinks it was...something else, but I know it was because I was hard inside, I killed my baby William. I did.”
“No.” He said firmly and as if he had suddenly found his voice he stepped up closer to her and murmured swiftly, surely: “No...I would never believe that. Never. You have a beautiful heart...you just...”
And here his voice trailed off and he looked deep into her eyes and saw that she knew the truth about herself. This wasn’t about self loathing or doubt, she had done an honest self evaluation and found herself growing hard in the heart and when she had seen what was true she had the courage to admit it, and change. And this is what made her the Champion Slayer of all time.
He looked down as he thought this through and heard her murmur.
“Seem we’re alike once again.”
Pause for a moment and then she said:
“It’s not up to me for you to be this way or that, the real question is do you wanna be around me? When I’m near you I can feel the answer is ‘yes’ but you hold yourself away and that will be your choice because I’m all about accepting myself now, all of myself and that includes my bloody past and it’s over really, over but yeah it’s there underground and just ask yourself are you more afraid of what I may bring out in you or what you may bring out in you?”
“I don’t know. I...didn’t think that was in me, not like that and it wasn’t even real, but I began to feel how it could be.”
“O.K. so you just experienced what people experience everyday. Choices about how I’m gonna respond to the guy cutting me off in traffic all of that stuff, so you just joined the human race and congrats and I don’t mean that in a bad way. Really. Stop being such a guy and take a little responsibility for how you feel, cuz like, for how long is Eve gonna take the rap for that damn apple? Just because you felt the inclination to wanna throw me down and pound me into the matt doesn’t mean you have to do it.”
Zing and pop the bulls eye. That was it.
He was turning red and looking away and still not talking.
Pause.
Still not talking. Great.
Buffy drew in a breath and ran her fingers through her hair.
“I can’t leave Millie right now, she needs me, so can’t we just find a way to be around each other?”
–“I don’t want you to leave.” He spoke with such sudden force they were both surprised.
“I don’t want you to leave.” He said in a more even tone and she looked up into his face into his eyes and he looked steadily back into hers.
Pause.
“O.K” she said.
“Alright.” He said.
“This is good, we agree on something.”
Silence, and then:
“What’s the matter William, what’s going on with you?”
He looked at her and then looked across the street.
How to say being around you is like mainlining joy, a reason to be alive, how to say you are like a narcotic or worst or best a daily staple and I hold you away from my heart preparing for the day you will leave? How to say being around you does make me want to throw you the floor and I am shocked with the power of it and I want to comfort you too and how to say being around you is like pulling out the threads of what may be holding the works of who I am together and what to do with the mess after that? Who’s going to clean up that mess? How to say any of that? And so he said the other thing and damn if it wasn’t truest:
“It’s good you are looking into yourself. Buffy, it’s good, so have look into this too...”
And here he drew in a breath and looked down at his feet and said softly.
“I know your touch, Buffy...I remember...and so I know the difference between kindness, sparring and...striking out.”
Buffy looked up sharply her breath catching in her throat and William looked her in the eye.
“You wanted to hurt me, Buffy...I’m sorry, but you wanted to hurt me–I felt it. Not in asking me–not then, but when we began even in the first round. I know your touch, you wanted to hurt me and you must be in so much pain to be so angry and I’m not sure if it’s directed at Spike or me or both or if it matters...but...I won’t let you beat on me, the way you did on Spike...no, I’m not going to let that happen...and I’m not saying what you just said isn’t true or true enough...but as long as we are both so confused, well, I won’t let you beat on me, not because I don’t care for you, but because I care about myself too...”
Buffy felt the air deflate from her lungs–she felt like she had been called out and exposed in way that was too personal, too intimate and all on the bottom step of the long ascent to The New York City main post office.
“You..you wanted to hurt me too...” And here she felt tears sting her eyes and she sat down on the marble step to get her bearings to become small in the world and escape Williams laser vision.
He walked over and sat down softly beside her and said quietly.
“No, no Buffy–well, yes, maybe a little, but nothing that a small discussion in words wouldn’t heal. No, I have accepted the fact that it would hurt me to hurt you–and I know, I know you have had to been hurt terribly to be that angry, but as long as you weren’t being honest with yourself–how can I be around you?”
Pause and then.
“So it’s my fault you love me so much I can only love you back and then you go and die and come back and then don’t even think to call me or anything...”
And here her voice broke and she felt his arm go around her and then heard him say.
“And so you need me so much, are so hungry for being touched you make me love you and then we make love and we see God together and then you leave me but not before a goodbye blow?”
They turned and looked into each others eyes and it wasn’t the action either of them had executed, this was apology by proxy, this was soul to soul and so would be better than making do.
“I’m sorry...” Buffy breathed.
“I’m so sorry, Buffy, so sorry...” William murmured against her hair and kissed her head.
“Sorry folks–can’t loiter on the steps here...”
They both looked up and into the smiling face of a postal security officer, and then at each other and smiling a little, they got to their feet and nodded to the young man in blue and started walking quietly up seventh avenue back towards the theatre. After a few moments William asked/said softly:
“So–you won’t leave? Please don’t leave.”
And this last part he said in such a simple appeal she looked at him closely. And in their way of bouncing back like balls against a hard world she said lightly.
“I won’t.” And then she wound her arm through his and he gripped her in turn and they walked quietly for a few moments before she said.
“We both have a lot to think about–but it will be O.K. Right? We are both honest and want to see...you know, clearly, and so that is gonna make it O.K....but I gotta say something else...
And here William looked at her cautiously–they might have had all they could take of the The Big Truth Reveal for a while, but she smiled and said lightly.
“William Ashley-Pitt–I get the distinct feeling there is still a whole Sci Fi series and two spin offs worth of story about yourself aren’t telling.”
He smiled gently, but said nothing more, only gripped her arm under his.
“Taciturn...that’s the word, oh yeah it ‘s like you discovered this new word and it’s not enough to say it outloud and work it into your vocab twice a week...NO...you gotta live it. What a Drama turg.”
“At least you said turg and not turd–.”
“--Don’t kid yourself–I thought about it; but I’m off the battle field now remember?”
And now he did smile and it was beautiful. He was beautiful and she caught her breath at the familiarity of the kindness of Spike expression but doubled in depth.
They were silent as they stopped and stood next to each other...just stood there feeling each others company.
Buffy looked down at the cement under her feet and murmured softly to her suede boots.
“I have missed you so much...and I already told you I’m not gonna play the semantics game and so just accept that as I have missed having your soul around me so much...”
When he said nothing she looked up to see his reaction to that and here William was still smiling and it so warmed his face and lightened his eyes Buffy wanted to sneak into his arms.
“I have missed...you too...so much...” he said and this last phrase was puffed out on an exhalation of a breath that broke the vowels into pieces.
“So are we friends now or what?” Buffy asked.
“Always, and I’ll think about what you said...and I’m glad you’re not fighting anymore Buffy, I’m glad you are doing what is right for you, I hated to think of you out there, getting hurt maybe, maybe scarred...”
Buffy titled her head and looked at him.
“Slayers don’t scar...
He arched his brow at her like he knew something she didn’t and so she pressed her point.
“No...no really, everything heals over and I mean everything. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve lost my virginity...I mean my thingy, you know, well, actually I probably can count the times and ...oh my god I can’t believe I just said that to you.”
His face had gone red again and he was adjusting his glasses and looking down.
“Oh, I’m sorry, really, it’s your own fault, you’re just so easy to talk to, you always have been.”
“Yes, well, that’s something...”
She reached over and took his hand and interlaced his fingers with hers and the whole world faded to soft, soft focus save for the feel of flesh oh flesh.
*
Romeo: I dream’d a dream tonight.
Mercutio: And so did I.
Romeo: Well, what was yours?
William Shakespeare
Romeo and Juliet
*
Jack woke up in a sweat for the third time that week. First time might mean the sub conscious, the super sub trucking up neglected fears and whatnot, second time could be the harbinger the maybe baby you should pay some close attention to the way the wind blows and third time was a fix.
Third dream in repetition of a theme was a road paved and an accident waiting to happen and because it was about Buffy, he had let the first two slide a bit, because when wasn’t she in danger? But not now.
In the dreams she had been sidewinded, trusting a tiger, walking on thin ice and any other cliche his fevered brain could stew, cook and chow down to choke him.
Buffy and...him. It had to be him. It was difficult to tell in the dreams the direct source of what had befallen Buffy...but Jack had the definite impression that it was this thing, that person; Spike.
Or not Spike. And truth to tell, he didn’t look the ogre in the dream, but certainly the catalyst. And Jack had nothing against him, really nothing. He seemed a decent enough person, given the circumstances...and he seemed genuinely to be trying to stay out of Buffy’s way and range of vision and so this gave Jack an idea, a way in to affect the situation.
Because there had to be a way to affect it. Certainly there were times and granted most things were beyond his control or ability to alter...but three dreams was a scream for help and it was not in his nature to ignore it, regardless of how he and Buffy had ended.
He sat up in bed and reached for the phone. He would talk to his sister Sarah and maybe Giles and book a flight to wherever she was; it looked, it had felt like New York City and so he assumed she was still there.
Because there was no way Buffy was going to be turned into a vampire on his world.
No. Way.
Even if he had to burn the house down with him the other, the maybe even innocent in it.
No. Way.
*
Tony Wheatherall dreamed of blonde hair.
His fingers, marveling and moving toward the long tresses and a feeling of fate.
He couldn’t grasp it, she was always just out of reach and he was getting perturbed and a little pouty about it. When he did get closer, when he was closest he thought, is this it? Is this what you’ve been waiting for? And maybe finally, finally he could relax with someone and stop trying so hard, always trying, always hiding and when? When? Now? Could he take the mask off now?
Buffy? He called and she didn’t turn around and so he wasn’t sure but did she say?
“Don’t do it Tony–it’s not me...”
*
Ollie Kronick had a secret.
He couldn’t sleep.
He was an insomniac–bona fide.
And so he wasn’t dreaming.
Life, he had decided long ago, was a dream, and so he never felt shortchanged about that. About not having dreams, that is. He daydreamed and that worked out well for him–because they were always around some goal or some scheme he could make come true. And so it sorta doubled as creative visualization, and what could have been considered a handicapped worked out nicely for him.
But he hadn’t much hope for his current daydream.
Maive Bushwell.
He hadn’t thought much of her in that sitcom television show she had been in and of course he had seen it–he was an insomniac–he had seen everything prime time and post and in the early hours of the world and he was well read to boot. His life was about consuming the pretty pictures and the whatnot everything he could to stimulate the little grey cells and so he had known her work on television-and while she was lovely, he hadn’t been over impressed. He reminded himself of this fact over and again to reassure himself that what he was feeling now was not a fixation on celebrity, not a projection onto a public personality. But something real.
She affected him in a way that made him feel...like himself again.
He felt himself soften when he was around her, when he looked at her. And he had been careful, of course he had been careful to not look at her overlong or linger too near for too long or come by and ask unnecessary questions and so of course she didn’t know. No one did. How could they? It was all part of his secret.
He knew, of course how the cast had talked about her behind her back, saying things like–there goes the ‘sex sells’–well, not all the cast only the younger ones, the boys who didn’t know the world well enough to know better and so made easy judgements on the unattainable
And it pleased him that the Prof was looking after her, helping her in the way that he was. It was none of his business of course, but he knew nothing would develop between the Prof and Maive because–well, it was just too obvious to anyone who had eyes in their head that the Prof was crazy about Buffy.
And Ollie had eyes in his head. He saw, but was not seen and for the longest time in his life this had suited him...but now, well.
He was only thirty three years old and he knew he looked much older–his hair going prematurely grey and sure, the insomnia thing had aged him, and he hadn’t thought that it mattered to him, but maybe now, with something beginning to glow this brightly in his heart–it did.
He got up and put in his VHS copy of a doc called The Burden of Dreams–it followed Werner Herzog through the jungles of Brazil during the filming of Fitzcalrado–a disastrous film. But the doc was brilliant and what about that? The doc was the masterpiece, the watcher was the genius and the watchee was lost in a dream.
*
Millie was dreaming about tech week–so it might be better to say that it was more of a nightmare.
There was that strangled feeling of trying to get everything to go right and feathers, little white and blue feathers kept falling from the some kind of trap over the stage and she kept saying–“I didn’t tech that–where did that come from?”
And so Buffy would run out and try to clean up the stage–picking up all the feathers one by one and putting them into her hand and Millie had to restrain herself from yelling at her friend–to ‘go get a broom for God’s sake and sweep everybody off their feet.’
But part of being a good director was letting, allowing people to make some calls for themselves, to figure some things out for themselves–but it could be tedious.
And then while she was watching Buffy struggle with the feathers, a small figure glowing yellow that maybe looked something like how a fairy might look was there at her side and she thought: ‘O.K. now that’s wrong–we’re not doing Midsummer’s Night–where was Helene from costumes?’
And then the little fairy golden girl took her hand and stood next to her and she felt a soft glow as small as a firefly move from the small girl up through her arm and into her heart and heard something like this:
You need to be strong...
Millie woke with a start and looked down at her left hand. Her left hand minus the wedding band of her dear, love, her lost Brian. After he passed, no, after he was killed five years ago by a vampire, Millie had thought that was the hardest thing she would need to go through in her life. She had taken off her wedding band because it was too, too hard to see it and not him wrapped around her finger.
People thought she had Brian wrapped around her finger and maybe she had but that never made him weak–he had been the one to throw himself at that monster that night in the street, he had been the one to try the impossible before Buffy had appeared like an angel and why did the angel save her and not him? Impossible to contemplate the cosmic clock–you went crazy that way.
But Brian had thrown himself at the beast because he loved her, and so she had stayed alive and thrived and did everything in her life in his memory because she loved him.
She pushed back the covers and got out of bed–she wanted that ring. She went to her bureau and pulled open the top drawer and opened the small wooden box hidden under socks; (socked away I guess you could say). And pulled out the simple gold band and put it on her left hand.
“Brian...”
She said his name out loud in a whisper and suddenly the room was so quiet, so very quiet.
Tears sprang to her eyes and she shook her head and breathed deep.
You need to be strong.
Well that could only be about the play. She padded into her living room and went to her desk tucked into the far right corner and started going through her notes and strategy for the next few weeks...hmm, better call Ollie to set up a new schedule for tech and discuss back up plans for the back up plans, she looked at the clock.
3:26 a.m.
Ollie would be awake, who was he kidding? He never slept.
*
Dorothy was dreaming of a book of verse.
It was written in longhand and was a little hard to read in places because butterflies kept coming out of the pages.
So then the Prof took the book from her, adjusted his glasses and read:
“My sweet, sweet girl,
My love, my last life and first world...”
It was so clean, it made her cry.
*
Rhonda Gain dreamed of Amal–his dark skin and bright eyes and could this be the gentle stroke of love again? But oh god, no, he is so young, too young...
*
Amal dreamed of Rhonda, her kind warm heart shining all the way through her body to the outside world and welcome, welcome...
*
Buffy dreamed of spaghetti of all things. She was at table with Dawn and they were laughing and sucking up long strings of spaghetti and it would whiplash splash against her cheek leaving a tomato mark, a long red line up her cheek like a scar and Dawn pointed at it and laughed and it sounded like bells, like bells, and so merry was her sister, Buffy shrugged and smiled and then laughed too.
*
William was having one of the hard dreams.
One of the tough ones and his skin hurt. He had been out in the sun too long, because what did Spike know about the sun and what did William, living all his life in overcast England know about the sun and so he burned, time and again and it seemed he never learned and it wasn’t the burn that worried him, scared him really...it was what would happen after.
And now it was happening his skin was crumpling and then peeling, and as he peeled off a thin strip of dried skin he trembled. He pushed down on the damaged dry skin that was flaking and refused to peel it off...just kept patting it down but it stuck to his fingers and when he pulled them back a bit of dried flesh came with and he would try to put it back on his arm, pat it back into place and then more would come off...
And then Dawn was there behind him with her arms around him and kissed the back of his neck and just held him until he calmed down enough to hear:
There is something better underneath.
*
Juliet: “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee
Take all myself.”
William Shakespeare
She watched him. She found herself watching him, like eyes drawn to a single light in a dark room. The way his body fit together, the way his clothes fit his body, the almost perfect proportions of a greek statue moving.
Was she looking for similarities? Differences? Perhaps. Perhaps she began each perusal that way but always ended just looking. Just looking.
He knew, of course, and his head would turn slightly but not completely, to look back to where she sat. He would tilt his head back just enough to say ‘yes, I know you are there, ‘I know’ and she would smile.
It was a couple of days after the Big Talk and they had eased into a way of being around each other. Air cleared and walking carefully, watching closely, and hey, the watching part was fun.
She knew now that what she had said to him was true. He was himself the sum total of his memories, all of them, of his life experience and a rose by any other name would smell as sweet and so William would were he Spike called. He was him and that was that.
True, he was not the complex many roomed mansion that was Spike–but could she live in the front sun room and parlor cozied up to a fireplace for the rest of her earthly days? Well, if it was Williams two rooms then the answer was an easy ‘yes.’
And of course Dorothy picked today to go deep into Juliet and if William noticed the irony he kept it under cover. Buffy smiled and had to thank heaven or the fates or plain old fashioned timing for helping her score a point. For here William was saying out loud:
“Yes, yes I think you’re right, absolutely, ‘The Rose’ is a keystone moment in the play, a building block placed at the beginning to sew the idea deep into the collective spirit that there is an essence of being that goes beyond a name, a title, flesh and blood even. Shakespeare is stacking this as a metaphor in the bigger picture, that idea, that notion that there is something in a being that exists beyond time or space and takes up temporary residence in flesh or personality and so should be respected as a higher reality and Juliet, in her need to understand how she could recognize love in her family’s enemy, begins to grasp this higher reality.”
“They way women do.” Dorothy offered up and the gathering of actors chuckled gently and as Buffy added her laugh to the track, William was compelled to risk a glance back to where she sat a few rows behind him and now he looked her directly in the eye he smoothly agreed with Dorothy.
“Yes, yes...as women are bound to do.”
Millie had encouraged jam sessions such as this. They were on a short break between scenes and so were taking an hour or so to bring questions to the Prof and as an issue for one character even a minor one cross cut the lines in the themes of the play, Millie had began to schedule these sessions in groups so all could benefit from the on going discussion, take the ideas home and allow time to gel and then later distill into the actors greater understanding of his or her job in the overall story.
The Prof’s sessions had become so helpful, actors and design personal who weren’t even obliged to come, began to show up for the discussion.
And all the while Buffy marveled but was not amazed. Spike had always had that insight into group dynamics and motivation and how one person’s story worked with or against another’s. He had this same honest examination about himself and that was why he was easy to listen to. To take advise from. He spoke from a place of being brutally self aware. The ring of truth and knock, knock, hard knock and who’s there? The truth.
He was looking away from her now but not before she got him to smile at himself, at this situation but then the smile deepened like he had a trick up his sleeve and uh oh...thought Buffy: I know that look.
“Yes, yes, as you say women have the advantage of being the worlds natural intuitive and so let’s talk about that.”
He paused for a moment to organize his thoughts and when he began his voice was low and mesmerizing.
“We want love to be real.” He paused as he let that sink in.
“We want love to be real, not a memory, or a dream or something that has slipped away and visited only in our imagination. We want to experience love the way we know it in our hearts and as it exists in the cosmos--as a binding force and love, romantic love, in this case is a glimpse of the greater source and we need to feel this as being real and Shakespeare was no different and so he creates a situation, creates characters who are not only inclined to feel this, but must feel it.”
He paused for a moment and looked around at the group of respected actors of all ages, they were all leaning forward listening, he looked back to Millie who was standing by the stage and she nodded almost imperceptibly at him to continue. He did.
“Youth. Juliet is young, so young, fourteen years old, only fourteen years on this world and so perhaps she is still leaning on the world before this one. He choose to make her that young for a reason. To make them both young enough for a reason. Untouched by life they are more inclined to recognize the vibration of the rose in each other’s earthly identity.”
He let that sink in and then:
“They are also young for another more tragic reason. Being young they rejoice in the glimpse of home, of heaven they see and celebrate in each other but that same youth does not provide them with the experience of having choices. Of variables. It seems to them both they have no choice but to remove themselves from the world in order to stay near one another and so the same youth that allows them to see each other so quickly, so clearly, also makes them feel there is no choice but suicide. And so this leads to the discussion of fate.”
“Fate schamate.” Tony muttered...but curiously no one laughed, simply looked his way for a moment and then back to the Prof. But William was nodding at Tony and continued softly.
“Ahh...indeed. Fate schmate and sometimes this is true and perhaps sometimes it is not. They are young enough to be able to see the eternal rose in each other but at the same time their youth makes them long for heaven on earth and so their actions, their behavior becomes fated because they are in a fixed point of their perspective going forward. What if they were created to love...and to break? Couple this with Romeo’s observation of himself, his intuitive grasp of portents to come and his realization of being fortunes fool, and all this leads one to conclude that these are fated individuals.”
William looked over the faces and saw them thinking about this about what this might mean for each separate character.
“Romeo is established from the very beginning as a young man looking for love and the Friar chides him...Amal? Allen? The lines?”
And here Amal looked toward Allen and said:
“Thou chid’st me oft for loving Rosaline.”
“For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.” Allen responded kindly.
“That’s it. “ Millie said from where she stood behind them. “My friends, that’s how those lines should read, that easy, that natural...O.K., go on Prof.”
William nodded to her and looked inside himself to pick up the train of his thought and then went on.
“Romeo is established as looking for the love experience, the Godly love on earth experience and the Friar, notice it’s the Friar, God‘s proxy in Shakespeare’s world who offers the important advice, the distinction between...worship...and love...if you worship another human being, you have already failed, but Romeo is looking for love and so along the way, yes, there are false starts but his sincere intention is a powerful magnet and so yes, yes-- he will have an experience of love here on earth...”
“Or die trying...” Tony observed and here there was a chuckle.
“Perhaps...” William agreed softly...”but there is more...he is being primed and made ready for Juliet; he is sorting the body’s physical reaction to the form of a female--from the heart–so that by the time he sees Juliet–he knows the difference in a real way. The need to have this experience of love pushes him until he finds not a body, but a soul that resonates in the same way. He will keep going until he finds it–even amid portents of doom and premonition of untimely death. Is this the definition of fate? George?”
Pause for a moment and then, George AKA Benvolio murmured.
“This wind, you talk of blows us from ourselves;
Supper is done, and we shall come too late.”
Amal closed his eyes and spoke from the center of his soul.
“I fear too early: for my mind misgives
Some consequence yet hanging in the stars
Shall bitterly begin this fearful date
With this night’s revels and expire the term
Of a despised life closed in my breast
By some vile forfeit of untimely death.
But He, that hath the steerage of my course,
Direct my sail! On lusty gentlemen.”“
The room was quiet, William looked down to compose himself and when he looked up he couldn’t hide the tears in his eyes as he looked at Amal and said simply.
“Well said.”
Amal nodded and looked down. He had, just then, right then and there found Romeo and he knew it and so did everyone else. He had been doing a fine job, an excellent job...but now, now he had reached inside himself and found the Romeo waiting and everyone knew it.
Buffy. Buffy was having the most distinct and bizarre feeling of degavu. As Amal was speaking Romeo’s words from the play she had experienced the keenest expression of dejuvu...something about Williams face, his sincerity coupled with those words. Her brows drew together as she tried to puzzle it out and then shook it off...William was talking again.
He had cleared his throat and dabbed at his eyes and said softly.
“Romeo has a premonition of something to be feared, something like death, he is not sensing a bundle of flowers coming his way in joyful expectation–now this can be interpreted as, he foresees the death of the human being he had been up to the point of falling in love–because love will certainly transmute and transfigure a persons nature into a higher organization of itself and this can also be interpreted as earthly demise. Or both...he feels this great change coming and what does he do?”
Pause as William looks over the actors, carefully keeping his eyes from straying to Buffy, and then he continued:
“He gives his life over to Providence. ‘He that hath the steerage of my course direct my sail!’ Exclamation point. Remember what I said about punctuation? Shakespeare hits that phrase like a fanfare, a good thing, a good way to be in the world. And so there are fated individuals but perhaps they can go into the fray singing.”
Perhaps, they all thought together and then he said:
“Now, I need to wrap this up...Buffy is up next with the battle plan...”
“You’re doing fine Prof, Buffy’s listening to this too.” Millie said softly.
Every word. Thought Buffy dryly.
“Now. Juliet does not seem to have this same intuition about her circumstance, she seems more level headed of the two and so here you have an interesting switch. Shakespeare is writing about an intuitive male and the grounded female. He has not only flipped prejudice and predisposed notions of revenge and justice but traditional sexual roles as well. Several times Romeo is referred to as being effeminate, his tears making him effeminate, he himself says Juliet’s beauty has made him effeminate, BUT. But by the end we know that if those inclinations toward femininity had been followed, disaster would have been avoided. It is the masculine call to action, the offended ego, that puts every situation into danger again and again. And so Shakespeare creates a character that is self aware enough to be inclined to follow his feminine side, but overwhelmed by the circumstances of a war like world and so Romeo has the gift of knowing why he is being sacrificed in an almost prequel apology from heaven but is powerless to stop the events because....BECAUSE: he and Juliet are not the ones to learn from the lesson of their love, they are already above the lesson, no...no, it seems that they are to be the lesson for others.
Fate. A fated pair, but if this is true, Shakespeare juxtaposes this with the distinct impression at the end, at the very end of the play that leads one to hope, to suspect that what the Montaques and Capulets and all the townsfolk will do from this point forward is very much up to them. He seems to be saying that while some people’s fates may be immutable and a given...other peoples, are not. Perhaps, perhaps there are some that are lambs in this world and perhaps there are many more who are not. ”
Silence for a moment as they all thought about that and here William did risk a glance back to Buffy and they simply looked into each others eyes.
“It’s like the first case of mutual assured destruction.” This was from Rhonda Gain--the fine actress playing the Nurse.
“Oh yeah, absolutely, Rhonda’s right...” Said Amal and Rhonda turned and nodded to the young actor and he smiled back.
William broke his eye contact with Buffy and looked at Rhonda and nodded.
“Yes, yes, I think so. Conflict and war brings such damage to both sides, the cause and effect, the who did what to whom and when becomes lost in an experience of mutual pain. Pain over their best beloved, their children in love and now lost from the world. For Shakespeare, I think the shock of mutually assured destruction is the hoped for wake up call. The notion that striking out at a stranger, even, in revenge or justice will be the very same as striking at myself, my hearth, my heart, my beloved children. The very same act and always mutually painful.”
Long pause and then:
“Wow.” Breathed Dorothy into the silence and William said softly.
“Indeed.”
*
This discussion segued neatly into the pre-discussion for the Tybalt/Mercutio fight and now Buffy was on deck and George was asking about his character Tybalt.
“So am I the evil guy or what?”
William had stepped back and was sitting in the front row watching. Buffy looked at him and he just raised an eyebrow.
“Well...evil, hmm...” Buffy mused
“It’s just...there is usually a bad guy in a story and I’ve been looking around this story and I seem to be the closest fit. Tybalt is always losing his cool and has serious territory issues and I rented some versions of Romeo and Juliet and in some of them Tyblat sorta accidently stabs Mercutio and so which way are we going? Am I an accident waiting to happen? Or am I evil?”
Millie laughed and said, “Oh if only this was outer space and I was George Lucas and everything was that easy...but no, in Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare, as the Prof has pointed out, splits responsibility up pretty neatly between all parties involved...and to answer your question, let’s talk about intention. Buffy?”
Buffy walked to center stage looking down as she walked. She stopped and said.
“Bodies, human bodies aren’t made like blocks of cream cheese or butter. There is muscle and bones and tissue and try driving a knife through a ham or something and see something surprising...it can be a bit of work and that’s with a shortened sharp object needing less torque. A long sword driven through a body point blank requires muscle and...intention. It is kinda hard to accidently stab a person with a sword., hack at? Yeah. Chop up? Absolutely. Mistake with a stake? Uh huh, been known to happen and so maybe there is the accidental factor in these cases...but...”
William shifted in his seat and out of the corner of her eye she saw him nod toward the group of actors and as she looked at the young men they were staring at her with wide eyes and mouths hanging open.
“Ah...yeah, well you get the picture...”
“But one worth looking at.” Millie interjected mildly and then continued with, “Buffy has made a valid point, Tybalt either intends to stab Mercutio–“
“Especially seeing Mercutio is under Romeo arm–“ interjected Tony
“–Especially, and so do we set this up as an accident at an odd angle with someone pushing Tybalt from behind with his sword at just the right angle to drive up under Romeo and into Mercutio? Buffy?”
“Highly unlikely.” Buffy said
“There you have it. And so we do this Shakespeare’s way and Tybalt has a temper and as George noted, he has territory issues but more importantly...family was tribe and tribe was life and there was honor and justice to keep it all working after a fashion. Remember, Tybalt is challenged at the party, the Montaques and Mercutio, who, remember, is related to the Prince, crash the Capulets party and Lord Capulet had restrained Tybalt, but this has been eating away at his sense of honor and territory and if anyone has a problem relating to Tybalt’s state of mind--consider the last road rage incident you might have been involved in. He cut me off in traffic, he cut into my right of way, my territory–consider that...and see how evil Tybalt is.”
There was a pause for a moment and then Buffy said.
“Alright...so we have Tybalt, King of Cats and that indicates power and grace...and the element of surprise...seizing the moment in battle and so this explains why he takes advantage of Mercutio under Romeo’s arm...as a cat, he sees this as possibility rather than cheating...right?”
George nodded and bit his lip. “Yeah, yeah...I can see that...I can do that...justice from my point of view plus arrogance, plus temper and anger translated into righteous ness...yeah...”
Buffy went on with:
“Good...and it is a hot day, tempers are high, and remember, Mercutio and Benvolio have just had a small argument about who is more likely to get into an argument over nothing and no sooner does Tybalt show up and the very first words out of Mercutio is something like: ‘Yo Mama’.”
George nodded and encapsulated:
“So Mercutio is already in a temper and Tybalt is walking around with a ‘tude and those are the two energies we are dealing with here.”
“That puts Mercutio at a disadvantage.” Tony said.
“Focused passion is a force of nature and is sometimes an advantage, but yes, in this case Mercutio is fighting proxy, he got himself into it...but this is not his fight, he’s hot, in a temper, but temper is not passion and so yeah, he may be more than a little in over his head...now I have some moves mapped out...”
And here Buffy pulled Tony and George into the center and talked to them quietly.
Millie came to sit next to William who was still seated on the front row.
“So, what do you think of our girl?” She said tossing back her short hair so could see him clearly.
William tilted his head toward Millie without taking his eyes off Buffy.
“Amazing, beautiful, courageously honest and wise beyond us.”
“Hmm...sexy too, huh?” Millie asked
And here William turned to look at her and she looked him in the eye.
“Tony thinks so.” Millie said pointedly and here William looked back to Buffy and George and Tony standing center stage and stifled a grimace when Tony touched Buffy lightly on her upper arm.
“Don’t let too much time go by with that guy around, Prof, you’re smart and you sure know your Shakespeare, but Tony is one sexy guy...you feel the heat coming off him?”
Who couldn’t?
“Buffy...isn’t looking for...for something temporary...” William said, but he sounded unconvinced.
“What makes you think Tony thinks of her as a one night stand?” I’ve known him for a long time and I love the guy...and he’s lonely, lonely in his heart in a deep way and Buffy has that thing about her that makes a person feel whole...and so...well...”
William swallowed past a hard lump that had jumped from his heart into his throat. “Buffy has...the right to do whatever she feels is right for her...”
“Uh huh...yeah. And you just used the same word twice in one sentence, and so, no you’re not worried–right. Just don’t say you weren’t warned.”
Millie patted him on the shoulder as she rose, “Thanks by the way, you’re doing a great job.”
He nodded, but now, couldn’t take his eyes off of Buffy and Tony. Just how had he left things between himself and Buffy? And what had she said? (so we’re friends now right?) Friends.
It had sounded lovely when she had said it but now it sounded...flat and the untuned note on the piano playing-- (pinnnng)–friends. Thwwwwang.
No sooner had Millie gotten up when Maive plopped herself down next to him throwing her arm around him as she sat so that now she was cuddled up close in the chair next to his. As she leaned toward him her left breast pushed into his arm and he had that uncomfortable reaction of not knowing wether he should lean toward her warmth or pull away. It was the purely physical thing of a woman’s breast touching him and he felt a little in awe of it’s power and had to force himself not to look down the plump push of flesh pressing against him.
Maive was murmuring something what was it?
“I’m just so, so grateful William...can I call you William? Buffy calls you William and I think it suits you better and I just wanted to say...well, you know what you did for me and I know what you did for me and I’m thinking I would like to give you something back–“
“–Really, ah...(cough) really not necessary Maive, as you said before this, your gift, your job was inside you all along waiting for permission to come out...you did this, no need for thanks...”
“Oh but there is...” and here Maive pressed closer and now William was leaning back in his chair and had the bizarre impression of splat the bug against the car window going 70 mph. Oh lord.
“There is...” Maive was still saying and the Theatre was dark or rather darkened and her hand was on his thing and if she crept her hand into his lap he just might shriek like a girl.
“Maive...” He turned and looked her in the eye. “What are you doing?”
She blinked.
“Nothing. Just sitting.” She pulled back just a bit but didn’t remove her arm, simply looked him innocently in the eye and he looked evenly back until:
“Oh crap. Maybe I’m not such a good actress after all.”
At this he arched his brow and she chuckled. “Oh, not that I’m not interested in you, but Millie warned me off you with sparks in her eyes and now she just comes up to me and says if I really want to thank you, to do something for you, I’ll come sit in your lap where Buffy can see...and well...you know...”
“The old ruse...” He said with a smile in his voice
“The old caper...she thinks there is something between you two, and I guess she doesn’t think you’re moving fast enough to suit her...you know these Herr Direeectorrrrs–“ and here she leaned forward and whispered in his ear, almost kissing it and did a bit of tongue slip in?: “Control issues...”
“You’re still doing it.”
“Oh no, that was for me...like I said, I like you and now that the kitty has gone kaplunk...cuz who is gonna fool the sharp Prof? I don’t mind saying hello from my own self and thanks, really Will...I’m...”
And here her voice grew soft and she looked down. Her lovely eyes with her dark lashes against her creamy skin. She was a lovely woman, a lovely soul and he did feel a pull toward her. Hmm...charismatic actors. Is this the kind of pull Buffy might feel toward Tony?
He leaned forward and asked softly.
“And did Millie put Tony up to this too...with Buffy that is?”
And here Maive risked a glance back to the stage to see Tony laughing down into Buffy’s face and getting her to laugh with him.
“Oh no...nooo...Tony is in the push for real. He means business Will...look at that look...”
“D‘Rather not.”
“Oh, so that’s how it is? Millie’s right, big surprise–well...what are you waiting for?”
Instead of answering her William looked at her and asked.
“You’ve got your big scene coming up later today–how do you feel?”
And at the prospect of this Maive sobered and sat a little back in her chair and said softly. “Good, good...it’s gonna be painful...but good...it’s like something I can hardly wait to do, to say...the call for justice...you know...I mean how dare Romeo kill my Tybalt and get off scot free...how dare he do that?”
And here her voice trembled a bit and her eyes watered and William knew she had the moment in her hand as they had rehearsed it.
“Excellent. Excellent.” He said softy and reached out and took her hand in his and said. “I’m so happy for you Maive...so happy...”
And now she did look down, so he wouldn’t see her tears. He leaned forward and kissed her on the side of the head and she leaned her head on his shoulder.
*
Buffy was so rattled...it was getting a little hard to think strait. First, Tony is all in her space, using his heat to...oh yeah, she knew what he was doing and here she was trying to stay friendly but still business and then there was Maive Beatinginthebush crawling onto Williams lap.
Holy Canole. She needed a bullwhip to keep these actors in line. These actors and all their excess energy bouncing all over the place. No wonder all those actor marriages didn’t work--too much sexy for their own good. She snuck a look back to William and at first he had just looked uncomfortable with Maive trying to crawl onto his lap...but now he looked, well, a little warmed up to the idea. She thought they had been moving along toward each other...hadn’t they?
O.K. O.K. he’s a big boy and can live his own life and WHAT? He kissed her.
Buffy didn’t exactly see red...exactly. More magenta like and this was not good, not good, she couldn’t be teaching these battle moves with a little magenta blaze going off...she needed to take two.
“Sorry guys...I need a break...just a few minutes, don’t go anywhere, just need some...” But she never finished her sentence and she could have done one of two things...march off into the wings of the stage and cool down, step outside and get some fresh air and cool down...what was the matter with her anyway...just a little kiss...and on the head...(but he hasn’t kissed you has he? Or even touched you even has he?)
Or she could march over there and...
She opted for strolling...she strolled...(stroll she reminded herself...stroll, strollllll) until she stopped in front of William and Maive. (William and Maive–oh no don’t go there to the name coupling thing)
Well now what? William was looking up at her as innocent as the day he was baptized sprinkled with Maive juice and when Maive looked up at Buffy, she saw that her eyes where moist and that slowed her engine for a minute...but now what? They were both looking up at her to see what she had brought to the table of their little tableau.
“I...uh...sorry...William...I could use your opinion about something...that is--”
“--No, no, it’s...that would be fine...”
Maive nodded to William and said:
“I am gonna get you something, I’m gonna give you a present and so be forewarned...” And then she laughed lightly like this was some kind on ‘in’ joke and she snuck a look at Buffy before she crept away and to her credit Maive did look a little guilty (O.K.–so it was not my imagination thinks Buffy) but still she stands with arms crossed and deliberately blank eyes to hide a hurt.
William knew the look but he was not going to apologize...nothing to apologize for, damn Millie and her machinations–hadn’t she read enough Shakespeare to know these kind of dramatic mechanics always backfired?
He drew in a breath and stood to face Buffy and asked simply.
“How can I help?”
Oh.
Oh. The reason she had come over...Buffy looked away...well there was one thing, but it would require him getting on stage, him holding a sword...er, broomstick, whatever.
“Now, if you don’t feel like doing this...please don’t, but I need a sparring partner, and I mean sparring (and here they smiled at each other and so she went on) so these guys can learn this quickly...so they can see what this might look like...also...I would like to improv a bit...to make the scene look less stagey and more fighty like–can you do that? Be honest, I don’t want this backfiring on me or you...”
William looked at the stage and at Buffy and then into himself and remarkably he felt fine. The angst he had felt previously had been dealt with. He was facing himself...his own desires, his sexual desires, and other inclinations...and it was as Buffy had said--it was about choice, one could recognize ones’ inclination...without becoming lost. And he trusted her. She was honest and loyal and a heroine bar none and if anything came up–he knew she would be honest with herself and him one couldn’t ask for more unless they were bargaining directly with God and so: yes.
She handed him the broomstick and was there a soft well of intuition covering him with a shiver? Something that felt like portents? He looked at the broomstick makeshift sword.
Misreading his expression she said in an almost apology.
“Swords not til Saturday.”
He nodded but said nothing and covered this odd feeling with a practice swirl of the weapon.
“You and your windmills...” Buffy muttered with a small smile.
“Gotta see which way the wind blows...(Luv...)” had he almost said Luv? Spike’s endearment--he had been conscious of stopping himself from saying ‘luv’–what of that?
He looked to Buffy to see if she noticed but she was doing her own warm up and explaining to her guys what was going to happen, what to watch for.
No, this was fine this would be all right.
Buffy was beginning now,
“I’ll be Tybalt first time around and you’re Mercky” she said to William
“Mercky? I’m Murky? NO. No, I’m never murky.” Tony protested and Buffy and the boys simply laughed. William stood and listened intently as Buffy continued with:
“I’m The King of Cats cool as a cuke and you’re–“
“Murky.” William said simply. “Yes, yes...you’re right, she’s right...” he said in an aside to Tony.
“It’s hot, you’ve lost your temper and not fighting clean...Murcky...you’re fighting murky--”
“--Oh great, what a handle to get two weeks before tech–“
“–Not your performance–your performance is brilliant.”
William said almost to himself and this quiet sure compliment said without push meant more to Tony than he realized and...it shut him up. And the boys too--now they were all focused on Buffy and the Prof, it was all about pleasing Buffy and the Prof and maybe get kudos of their own in turn. Ah actors are just like people everywhere and maybe, maybe just a little more like children. And everybody loves kids, right? Right.
To business.
Buffy showed William the general moves she had worked out. Mercutio’s attack, Tybalt’s defense and then Tybalt turning the melee to precise action–blowing Mercutios game until it was obvious that he was in trouble and Romeo steps in. It was a good solid battle strategy showing each character’s intention and weakness...very well done and William said so.
“This is good Buffy, very good...”
She nodded under his compliment and added quickly. “But it needs a little breath of life. Something from the outside...you know?”
“Yes...yes I think I see what you’re getting at...well lets’ try...but may I suggest George and Tony say their lines to warm the air and set the mood?”
“Oh yeah, that’s good, that’s a good idea...” Buffy agreed.
“Oh this is no good, you guys are being too nice to each other--we wanna see you guys fight–not this love fest”
Benvolio complained good naturedly and they all laughed. Ah, it was good, it was a wonderful feeling to be in community. The Theatre and the tribe and William and Buffy in the middle of it.
There was a little gathering now near the end of the stage–seems word spread quickly that Buffy and William were going to fight and now all that was needed was the popcorn.