Buffy and William smiled at each other for a moment before Buffy giggled. "You know, that was kind of awesome and kind of gross, all at the same time. I bet Eau de Cockroach isn't exactly in the list of Top Perfumes of the Middle Ages."

"I would not generally recommend it," William admitted, chuckling a little shakily. "As for the battle itself, I would declare that it was all 'awesome.'"

"Hah! Easy for you to say!" Buffy retorted. "You didn't get turned into a human stake."

"All right, kiddies, break it up," Spike growled from his prone position between them, and they started and released each other.

William turned with remarkable composure toward the vampire, offering him his hand. "I owe you my thanks as well," he said somewhat stiffly. "If you had not protected me from that dreadful creature--"

"Oh, stuff it," Spike cut him off irritably, ignoring the proffered aid and sitting up on his own. "Get it into your thick head: if you die, I die. Otherwise I'd throw you to the bugs myself."

William and Buffy met each other's eyes and burst out laughing, still high on the endorphins of battle and victory. "Look at you, all grouchy because you actually saved someone! Someone you can't eat!" Buffy gasped, holding her side. "Does that downgrade your Big Bad status from 'great hulking evil' to 'just mostly vile'?" She caught his fist easily as it shot out towards her face. "Aw, is poor Spikey feeling insecure about his prowess?"

William inhaled sharply as Spike snarled and went for her throat, but she easily pulled him off balance and flung him back to the ground, holding him there with a hand against his chest. The other went to the jagged hole at his shoulder. He slapped it away before she could touch him.

"I just wanted to check the wound, Spike," she said, exasperated.

"Why Slayer, if you wanted to see me naked, you could've just asked," Spike leered.

Buffy huffed out a breath and rolled her eyes. "He's fine." She pulled him to his feet, raised an eyebrow at the wince he couldn't hold back, and did the same for William.

"We should get him inside before the sun comes up, though. He's allergic," she explained at William's questioning tilt of the head. "Really, really allergic. Catches fire and goes poof--which would totally make my day at any other time, but since I might need him to get home, I guess I'd better let him live for now."

"In that case, pray allow me to extend to both of you the hospitality of my home, Wincott Park. For as long as you may need," William immediately offered.

Buffy blinked. "You live in a park?"

"Are you daft?!" Spike exploded before William could answer, flabbergasted at the ease with which the Slayer had gulled an invitation to his house. The Slayer in his house! "You're asking the sodding Slayer to stay in my sodding house?!"

"It is my 'sodding house,' sir, and I will invite whom I please to stay," William informed him coolly. To Buffy he responded with a smile, "Only in part. The rest, I hope, you will find quite comfortable. At least I can assure you with some certainty that it will be free of monstrous insects."

As Spike gaped at his human counterpart, Buffy asked with a small frown, "Are you sure? Do you have the space? Well, I mean, not that I'm that picky or anything. You can stash us in the basement or, you know, tents in the greenhouse or something. But just because he can't kill you without committing suicide doesn't mean he can't hurt other people..."

William shook his head, smiling still. His words were directed at Buffy, but his gaze was on Spike, the warning and resolution in them clear. "I will undertake to persuade him that it would not be in his best interest." He turned back to Buffy. "As to space, it is only myself and my mother. There is more than enough room. I'm sure Mother would be delighted--" He stopped abruptly.

"What?" Spike demanded.

Buffy frowned at the vampire, but all his attention was focused on William.

"I left Mother on the road home. She said she had seen something strange, and wanted to turn back, but I persuaded her to go ahead and allow me to investigate. Still, she must be worried..."

A second later Spike's hand was around William's throat, his amber eyes deadly. "You left her on the road alone?" he said in a low, dangerous tone that immediately wiped all trace of amusement from Buffy's mind. She caught Spike's wrist, squeezing in warning when he refused to release William.

"Spike," she said quietly. "Let go. Now."

When he snarled and William began to gag, Buffy sighed and added with exaggerated patience, "Spike, let him go or I'll break your wrist."

Reluctantly, Spike did so, and William bent over in a fit of coughing. "Can't you guys ever have a normal conversation?" Buffy griped. "You know, one with tea and doilies and no choking or biting or death threats?"

Spike ignored her. He circled William under Buffy's wary gaze. "If anything's happened to her..."

William straightened slowly. "Why would you care?" he challenged hoarsely. "She is no longer your mother, demon. Were you not given new life by this vampire named Drusilla when she gave me death?"

Spike paused at that, and for a moment he seemed at a loss. "Who'd want to be reborn from a pathetic git who can't even protect his own mother?" he finally blustered. "And why was she coming home so late, anyway?"

William gave him a considering look. "She always goes with Thomas to visit the town hospital on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. You don't remember?"

"Well, she won't be anymore," Spike growled.

"And you're going to inform her of this?" William answered dryly.

Their eyes met. William waited. After a moment, Spike sighed. "Bloody hell."

William actually looked amused. "Forsooth. For the moment, however, I suggest we lose not a minute more in making our way home. You can judge for yourself whether or no I am fit vessel for a vulgar bloodthirsty fiend."

They lost not a minute, making the three-mile walk in less than an hour, and William was gasping by the time they came within sight of Wincott Park. That didn't stop him from chumming up to the sodding Slayer of all people, however. Did she have family? How had she come to be Chosen? What was a Watcher? What was a gym? Did the authorities not care that she had set fire to an institution of learning? What were her past-times? What was a mall? What were week-ends? And on and on until Spike would've bashed both their brains in with leftover cockroach limbs if there had been any to hand. By that time, though, the lancet pain of his shoulder wound had become a conflagration consuming his chest and stomach, and just maintaining his usual swagger required most of his concentration. The rest was focused on what awaited them at the end of the road, past the double row of cypress trees, and up the white-graveled drive to the massive double doors of carved and aged oak.

His mother. His one regret in a century lived without shame, guilt, or a single backward glance. What would it be like to see her again? He pressed a hand against his stomach. Aside from the scorpion venom eating away at his innards, there was also a strange rolling and churning sensation that he couldn't identify. He thought back. His last meal had been a hot little redheaded number outside a club, which had been just before the bar that preceded this entire cock-up. She'd tasted all right--buzzed, but certainly not diseased. He cast a suspicious glance at William, who was now attempting to explain Victorian-era transportation to the Slayer. Was ponciness catching? he wondered in horror.

Buffy gaped at the gigantic stone edifice sitting directly in front of them as they came to the beginning of a wide smooth path bordered by short-cropped grass. Books usually reserved the word 'edifice' for places like the Washington Monument and Mount Rushmore, but she was pretty sure that a building that looked like it could swallow up 1630 Revello Drive, the Bronze, and Sunnydale High and still have room for dessert qualified. "You didn't tell me you lived next to a museum," she said to William, pointing.

"And what d'you suppose they muse on in there, horseshoes and cow dung?" Spike sneered.

"Respectability and English traditions, I was going to say," William murmured, "but perhaps that is close enough."

"You're not serious," Buffy said, looking between them as they went right up to the front door. "You live in there?"

William smiled and gave her a little bow. "Welcome to Wincott Park, Miss Buffy," he said.