Lydia Chalmers stood nervously outside her advisor's office. The deadline was looming dangerously close. Only two more weeks left until she was to present her prospectus.

Hence the meeting with her advisor.

She took in a deep breath and knocked on the heavy door. Like everything else on campus, it was heavy, wooden and aged. Even the people seemed to be like that. The single exception to that rule, aside from a number of members of the student body, seemed to be Dr. Fliesning, her advisor.

At that very moment he opened his door. "Ah, Lydia," he said, opening it wider. "Come in, come in."

"Thank you, sir," she said softly. Fliesning pulled out the chair opposite his desk and gestured for her to sit down. He himself took the chair behind his desk as usual.

"Lydia," said Fliesning, sighing before he spoke further, "I must say I'm a little disappointed in you."

"Yes-yes, sir," she murmured.

"You are a very talented young woman, one of the best students I've had in many a year."

"Yes, sir." She swallowed.

"The Council is more than lucky to have someone like you under its tutelage - it is honored and privileged. You are amoong the brightest that it offers to the future." He said that last word with something of a shout, startling the girl. Her faint nervous tremors began to become more visible.

"Why is it, then," continued Fliesning, "Miss Chalmers, that you have not produced for me, as your primary advisor, a thesis topic?"

Lydia's mouth opened and closed a few times. Closing it again, she swallowed hesitantly. "Sir, I-I-"

"Yes?"

She blinked. "Sir, I don't know. I've-I've tried, truly I have, but the sheer idea of working on a single topic for such a long time...." She hesitated. "I want to find something truly....truly unique, and-and interesting. Something that's important, too."

"Lydia, Lydia," said Fliesning, shaking his head. "You're not the first student to say such things, to have those thoughts, and you're certainly not the last."

"I'm sorry, sir," she said apologetically.

"Don't be sorry. Get a topic! It's not so terribly difficult. What are your interests, your goals? What have you read that's more interesting to you than the rest? What drives you?"

She sat in that chair, silent, for several moments. "Vampires. I'm not so terribly interested in other demons. But there's something about them...vampires, I mean. The fact that they look like us, are made from us. There's something of us still in them, you know? Not just the body, the human...er, corpse, but the personality, when it's strong enough to still be seen."

Fliesning smiled. "Good. Excellent." He sat back for a moment. "You know," he said, standing up, "I think I have something that may help you." He walked over to one of the multitudinous built-in bookcases and carefully selected a thin, leather-bound volume. He opened it there and quickly skimmed the first pages. "Ah, yes, exactly as I recall," he said with a smile and then returned to the desk. Reaching across it, he handed her the book.

Lydia frowned and opened the book to the old frontispiece. Even without reading the caption - or the title page - she recognized two of the creatures in the ancient photograph. "'The Family of Aurelius'," she read aloud. "'Volume Six: Darla and Angelus.' But, sir," she added, frowning, "surely already so much has been written about the Scourge of Europe, and, well, the whole topic of Angelus...Supposedly he's turned to good and assists the Slayer herself. What could I possibly write that hasn't been written?"

Fliesning nodded. "Agreed. Too much, really, has been written about Angelus and his Sire. Take a gander at the photograph. Do you recognize the other two, the pair standing behind Angelus and Darla?"

Lydia looked at it carefully. A woman - a female vampire, more likely - with long dark hair and a towheaded man -- again, vampire - beside her. Dear God, he was a handsome devil…Why, if she met him on the street, or down at the pub where the students often met – Rein yourself in, Lydia! Stop drooling! "No, I don't believe so."

"I'm not surprised," said Fliesning. "While colorful and - as I think you'll find - intriguing, their violence against humanity has not been as torturous as what Angelus and Darla inflicted on the world in their heyday. This is Drusilla, a Childe of Angelus," he said, gesturing at the book, "and the fellow beside her is William the Bloody, also known as Spike. He's most likely a Childe of Drusilla, but little research has been done on him and there are some conflicting reports. Those who have actually heard of him know him for his two Slayer kills."

"Two?" exclaimed Lydia with surprise. "Goodness."

"He's also fought the current Slayer in California," added Fliesning.

"She still lives," said Lydia. "And he? Does he yet exist?"

"As best we know. He and Drusilla were last seen by Council operatives in Brazil just this week.

"Lydia," continued Fliesning, "I think you should investigate William the Bloody. Create a proper history of the fellow. Find out who he was before his siring, find out who his sire was! He's been with Drusilla since the 1880s, unwaveringly devoted to her-"

"Devoted? A vampire devoted to another vampire? How can that be?"

"Yes, devoted. Casual observers have declared them examples of ‘young love’. Hypothesize the basis of his devotion to her, Lydia. Discuss his Slayer kills. Why those girls, why not attack others? What are his habits, his peculiarities, his interests? Telephone Rupert Giles and interview him and the Slayer on their interactions with him, if you can get them to talk...."

"...And so I wish to title my project 'William the Bloody: A Case-Study in Vampiric Love and the Remnants of Human-Self in Demonic-Self'. In addition to these two intriguing topics, I also intend to write a proper biography of the vampire, setting straight those fallacies which continue to plague what little has been written about him, particularly the most basic of things, such as his age and the identity of his vampiric sire...."

The vampire was right there, standing before her. He was shorter than she had imagined him, his hair not as shockingly blond as it was in some of the relatively recent photographs she had uncovered. But there he was, in the flesh, as they said. Oh, dear God. Dear God.

Her hand shook a little as she began to take notes. It was not so much fear - oh, yes, there was a little fear, anyone who knew of his exploits would have cause for at least a little bit of fear - but more nervousness. The fear that he would see her: she had something of a crush on him. She would never admit it to anyone, of course, but it was nonetheless true and she knew how perceptive he could be when he put his mind to it. Was he guessing already? Did he know? Or did he think her some dried-up spinster of a she-Watcher?

"You've killed Slayers before," Lydia said nervously. Do not engage him in idle conversation, Mr. Travers had said. Surely this wasn't the least bit idle. She was asking after his motivations, after all. Surely that would do some good.

And perhaps an addendum to her thesis would be in order...

The vampire's swagger returned as if rehearsed. Her nervousness grew. Oh, dear God. The swagger. The smirk. "Heard of me, then, have you?" asked the vampire.

She blushed. She couldn't help it. Not when he was looking at her like that, but she was a grown woman, all of twenty-five years old, and grown women do not have crushes on vampires five times their age like little school girls....

"I-I wrote my thesis on you, actually," she found herself saying. Oh, God. Oh, good grief.

Now she was truly done for. Wonderful, Lydia, wonderful. Now he knows you're obsessed.

Travers would not be pleased with her report, that was for sure.

Nigel had always annoyed her. It was something about his voice. It grated on her. Fitting that he was Travers’s favorite then. "They took our files, wiped out our records. We’ve lost contact with operations in Munich, Switzerland and Rome. We’ve got casualty confirmations coming in from as far away as Melbourne," said the teacher’s pet.

Lydia fought to keep from rolling her eyes at him. Of course all these things were happening. It was the First Evil! What did they expect? That it would drop into town for tea and negotiations? "Sir, we are crippled," she told Travers. There: boiled down into the simplest expression.

"It’s all right, Lydia," he said, taking her arm as if she were a little girl. She had never really liked Mr. Travers anyway. He was not fond of girls – women – with power (AKA Buffy Summers, the Slayer) and those with extensive knowledge (AKA herself). "We are still masters of our fate, still captains of our souls." Ever so melodramatic. Good grief.

Masters of our fate. That almost sounded like something William the- No, Lydia. Don’t get started. This is an emergency. Not exactly the proper time and place to think of handsome vampires.

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Travers always liked to make speeches. "Ladies and gentlemen, our fears have been confirmed. The First Evil has declared all-out war on this institution. Their first volleys proved most effective. I for one think it’s time we struck back. Give me confirmations on all remaining operatives, visuals and tacticals. Highest alert. Get them here as soon as possible. Begin preparations for mobilization. Once we’re accounted for, I want to be ready to move."

"Sir?" That was Phillip. Another suck-up, as her younger cousin would have said.

Mr. Travers nodded. "We’ll be paying a visit to the Hellmouth. My friends, these are the times that define us. Proverbs 24:6: ‘For by wise counsel thou shalt make thy war.’"

The Hellmouth. Where William still resides – to the best of our knowledge. Perhaps he still-

There was no pain.

[End]