Good Friends

William gasped as he felt hands grab at him, closing over his arms. He'd been running – running for his life down a seemingly endless corridor – but the hands put a swift end to that, holding him securely enough that he didn't even try to run. The coolness of a knife blade settled against his throat and it took all of his willpower not to scream. He knew that if he did, they'd just kill him more quickly to silence him.

'Eavesdropping at the Baron's door,' came a gruff voice from one of the guards restraining him. 'He said to catch him. What do we do now?'

A cold, clear voice could be heard, echoing distantly from a room far behind them.

'Kill him. Now, before anyone walks by.'

The guards liked that; one or two of them laughed.

Now ignoring the blade against his neck, William threw all of his strength into breaking free, straining against his captors, his heart thumping painfully. But there were two men holding his arms and they were both older, larger and stronger than he was. It was hopeless.

A third guard stepped out in front of him, gripping a drawn sword. Sweat coursed down William's face as he watched the guard smile and run a finger along the sword's edge, eyes grim and merciless in the dim light.

'Let's get this over with, then,' he said. 'He's just a servant; he won't be missed.'

Somehow, past all of the blind terror, William found his voice. 'No... y-you're wrong. I have parents, a-and friends. Th-they'll wonder where I am. They'll come looking...'

'The Baron will think up a good explanation,' replied the guard. 'He usually does... Now, hold onto him firmly. This is going to be messy and he'll certainly put up a struggle.'

The other men redoubled their grip on William's arms while the third positioned his sword so it pointed directly at the servant boy's heart. William opened his mouth – whether to plead for mercy or scream until someone came running, he had no idea – but before he could make a sound, the guard thrust his blade sharply forwards and the point entered his chest. The guard didn't even try to be quick; a malicious grin curled up his face as he pushed the blade further in, watching blood cover William's clothes.

Yet for some reason, it didn't hurt. William looked down in surprise as he felt nothing more than the impact of the sword punching through his chest. He was sure it was supposed to hurt...

Right as he thought that, the pain caught up with him. He screamed. It felt like his entire body was filled with fire, and the sword itself was like a white-hot poker inside him. He began to struggle wildly, his eyes rolling up into his head, fighting desperately in an effort to get the blade out of himself, but the guard only followed his movements, forcing it in deeper. He felt the tip come out of his back. There was blood everywhere, filling his lungs, he was drowning in it and there was no escape--

'William! Oi, wake up! C'mon!'

He opened his eyes and they flickered from place to place in the darkness. Shock seeped into him to replace the blind terror when he realised that he was lying on a couch – or rather, floating an inch above it – and he wasn't choking on blood, and there was no pain. Anita and Spike were both bending over him, looking worried.

He sat upright. 'Ah, I'm sorry,' he apologised, wincing slightly when he noticed that Anita was wearing a nightgown and her eyes were half-lidded with sleep. He must have woken her up. Spike looked the same as ever, but then, poltergeists usually did.

'Alden...' he said slowly, 'how often do you get nightmares?'

'It was just a dream,' said William quickly, shaking his head. He felt strange, like a part of him was still asleep.

Spike raised a skeptical eyebrow. 'Riiiight. Well, that sounded like a really brutal 'dream'. Care to elaborate?'

Anita cut in. 'Was it about... the time you were executed?' she said hesitantly.

William gazed at her in wonder. 'How did you...?'

She bit her lip, looking down as if ashamed. 'I-I'm not really certain. It was just a feeling that I had.'

Spike reached over and poked the older ghost's arm. 'Sure you don't want to tell us anything? I mean, I don't really want to hear all the gruesome details, but we'd listen. And, y'know, it might make you feel better.'

William looked back and forth between the two of them, and felt love coursing through his chest as strongly as the pain he had felt in his nightmare. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have these friends. He knew he would do anything, give up anything, to be with them forever. But that wouldn't happen.

'It's fine,' he said softly. 'I promise. This isn't the first time this has happened, and I don't think that talking about it will help. But, thank you.' He looked up and gave them an awkward half-smile, directing it mostly at Anita. He was still slightly in awe that she had actually left her bed to come and check on him.

Anita didn't look convinced, but she nodded and – with a motherly gesture that startled William – bent to kiss his forehead.

'Please, call me if you need anything,' she whispered. Then, taking the candle that William hadn't noticed she was carrying until now, she got up and left the room, gently shutting the door behind her.

He watched her go, then turned around to find Spike still staring at him.

'What were you doing before you came here?' he asked the poltergeist.

Spike shrugged. 'Not much. I was rearranging ornaments in the hallway when I heard you shouting something in your sleep, and then Anita came tearing past me like someone had told her the building was on fire. I decided to follow her, and there you were, crying on the couch.'

William wiped his face self-consciously on his sleeve, although he was almost certain Spike was joking.

The scruffy poltergeist hopped onto the couch beside him. It ought to have sunk under their combined weight, but nothing happened. 'So,' he said at length, 'you died by being executed? Not that I hadn't guessed already, but...'

At that, William glanced down at the huge bloodstain on the front of his waistcoat. It had always been there and always would be. 'Yes,' he replied quietly. 'In the early 15th century. I was seventeen.'

'Why?'

Spike's expression was oddly intense; William had never heard him sound so serious about anything before. Poltergeists weren't known for it.

'I accidentally overheard something I wasn't meant to. Something terrible – something that nobody was ever meant to know. They killed me to stop the secret from ever getting out.'

'They killed you for that? Are you serious?'

William blinked. 'It was something very bad,' he repeated. 'If I had told everyone... the country might have fallen apart. That secret could have caused a civil war if it reached the wrong ears.'

Spike looked down, dangling his feet off the side of the couch. 'Yeah, well... it was still really unfair,' he muttered.

William smiled grimly. 'Not everything can be fair,' he said, and he believed it. A cruel death followed by literally hundreds of years of loneliness and pain had taught him that much. But what he didn't tell Spike was how incredibly grateful he was for the things in his life that weren't unfair. Like his friends, and how fortunate he was to have them. 'But it doesn't matter.'

Spike stared at him in disbelief. 'It doesn't matter that they killed you for something that wasn't really your fault? An accident?'

'It's been over five hundred years,' William informed him gently. 'If I allowed myself to be upset about the way I died, so long after it happened, then I wouldn't have a very happy existence at all. It's better to move on.'

'Still...'

'And,' he added, 'there are certainly advantages to being a ghost.'

'Well, you're right about that,' said Spike, who seemed both disappointed and relieved that the topic had shifted to one less morbid. 'There are some really great things about being a ghost. Like being invisible. Well, to most people.'

His amber eyes flickered in the direction of the closed door. William knew they were both thinking about Anita.

'She is very special,' he said softly.

'She is,' Spike agreed. 'She's not one of a kind, because I've met others like her before... but most of them were terrified of me, and she's not worried at all. You're pretty lucky to have found her, I say.'

'Oh, I know.'

'But every ghost needs friends of their own kind, right? I guess that's what you've got me for.' The poltergeist grinned and thumped William's shoulder. 'And I think we should go out tonight and do something really ghostly. Like, rearrange some furniture! Or spill ink all over the library! It might take your mind off those creepy nightmares.'

William couldn't help smiling a little at Spike's enthusiasm.

'I don't know...' he said uncertainly. 'I don't think I can do things like that. I'm not a poltergeist like you. And I'm not very... scary.'

Spike chuckled.

'No, you're not scary at all,' he said, running a practised eye over the other ghost. 'And you'd make a terrible poltergeist – you're much too tidy. Listen, I just thought of something else we could do instead. There's a cave in the woods near here. We could go inside and explore, and the monsters won't even be able to hurt us!'

William wasn't convinced that he was a very good daredevil ghost either.

'How about tomorrow night instead?' he suggested, not wanting to disappoint Spike. 'I'm a little tired tonight... I think I might prefer to sleep.'

Spike's expression changed. 'Oh, yeah, I forgot. Being woken up by nightmares and all.' He studied William, his head tilted curiously. 'You sure you're ready to sleep again?'

William's stomach lurched at the implication, but he didn't let his sudden nervousness show. 'Yes, I'm sure. This usually only happens a few times a year at most – it's very unlikely that I'll dream again tonight.'

Spike nodded. 'OK, then. Sleep.'

Now it was William's turn to look askance at him. 'Right here and now?'

The poltergeist looked away, rubbing the back of his neck in a show of embarrassment.

'Well, you know... don't look at me like that! Anita and I do worry about you. And, well, I think she'd kill me – not literally, of course – if I just left you here alone after you'd had a nightmare. So I'll stay here for a while. For my own safety.'

Recognising that Spike had, of his own volition, chosen to watch over him, William managed a small genuine smile. 'Thank you. I don't mind if you do.'

Spike visibly relaxed. 'Just don't get used to it,' he joked, shifting along the couch to create more space. 'These things are uncomfortable.' His nimble hands moved to adjust a few cushions behind his back, and William couldn't help but chuckle, seeing the poltergeist's discomfort.

'Don't worry. I would never ask that of you.'

He lay back, resuming his earlier position. It was very strange, falling asleep with another person sitting right beside him, and for a moment he thought he might not manage it. But within moments exhaustion overtook him and, filled with the love and gratitude he had for his two friends, William drifted off to sleep.