Title: (Do I Dare) Disturb the Universe.

Pairing: Buffy/Spike, Buffy/William

Spoilers: Post-Chosen

Rating: R

Summary: Buffy attempts to bring Spike back, but doesn’t get what she bargained for.

Author’s Note: I’ve always wanted to write a Buffy/William fic. I think it would be interesting to explore who Spike was before, and the man inside of him. Plus it’s hard to find any good William fics. But this is very much about Spike, his relationships, and the man inside of the monster. I hope that even if you don’t normally read William fics, you give this story a chance.

Disclaimer: None of it’s mine.

Distribution: Take it if you like it, but please email me first.

Chapter 1

It took a year. A long, hard, painful year, but Buffy finally did it. She pulled her life together and figured out her place in the world. On May 20, 2003 she was homeless and free for the first time in her life. Exactly one year later she had her own apartment, a good well-paying job, and she was enrolled in summer courses. Dawn was finishing her third year of high school, a smart, well-adjusted, responsible young woman. To the casual observer, things seemed to be going well indeed.

But Buffy wasn’t happy, not quite. The shadow of her dead lover loomed over her, and she couldn’t shake him. Spike remained alive in her dreams and her heart, and she couldn’t even look at any other man, much less consider moving on. Nobody spoke of him or brought him up in anyway. And that hurt the most. Could they all so easily move on and forget his sacrifice? They didn’t know him. Only Buffy did, and she couldn’t forget him.

It wasn’t an obsession though. Buffy could easily function in the world, and during her busy days she didn’t give him a second thought. She couldn’t, she had far too many other things to think about. But at night, her time was hers and hers alone—and that is when her thoughts wandered.

Her favorite memory was easily their last night together, and for the past week, it had been foremost in her mind. For one glorious evening, nothing stood between them. There were no barriers, no hesitation, no regrets, or second thoughts. Buffy had opened up to him in ways that she never had before, with anybody. And in turn, he filled her with the most passionate love she had ever known. It was as though he knew it was his last chance to touch her. Maybe he did know.

When Spike had stood up to meet her that night, she knew. She knew that he could wrap his arms around her and take her from this world of suffering and regret. All she had to do was trust him, and so when he hesitantly kissed her, she didn’t push him away. When he grasped the back of her neck, she arched towards him. When he reached for her buttons, she helped remove her shirt.

He had started gentle, and Buffy understood that tonight there wasn’t any room for the rough stuff. His tongue followed his slightly calloused fingers down her body, across her nipples, into her warm depths. And she returned the favor the best she could. She couldn’t say the words, they didn’t match her feelings, she didn’t know how. Buffy’s best tool, her best weapon, was her body and she used that fact to the best of her advantage. If she couldn’t tell him, she would show him.

But apparently, she hadn’t done enough. His final words echoed in her ears every night. She should have done more, should have told him sooner, should have made him listen. She tried to tell herself that he denied her love so that she would leave. She tried to tell herself that he was being kind in his own way. But she didn’t buy it.

Nobody suspected she was still in mourning, at least, she never gave them any reason to suspect it. But the burden of carrying the grief was almost enough to break her some nights, and she badly needed support. As time passed, this need did not lessen, only grew greater. And now, the night of the anniversary of his death, Willow sat across from her with troubled eyes and a furrowed brow.

“You want me to do what?” She asked slowly.

“Bring him back,” Buffy repeated.

“Buffy, I can’t do that.”

“Why not? You brought me back.”

“Buffy, that was different. That was so different. Besides, he was right.”

 

“What? Who was right about what?”

”Spike was right. He said there is always a price, and there was. Osiris let me take you back, but he took someone in turn.”

“Tara?”

Willow nodded sadly. “What price are you willing to pay, Buffy?”

Buffy didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer. Would she really be willing to sacrifice somebody to have Spike back? The answer, simply, was no. She couldn’t do that. “There’s got to be a way, Will.”

“Even if we didn’t have to worry about the price of the magic, there are other things we have to consider. For one, we don’t have a body. That day in the Hellmouth, we were passing back and forth between dimensions. He could have been in a hell dimension when he dusted, which doesn’t matter because he, you know, went dusty.”

Buffy remained silent, knowing she couldn’t respond to that.

“Also Buffy,” Willow continued gently, “he may be in a better place. He did die to save the world, that’s gotta count for something.”

Everything in Willow’s voice, all her words, her body language screamed I’ve learned my lesson, leave this alone! But Buffy couldn’t back down.

“I can’t live without him anymore, Willow.”

Willow moved to Buffy’s side and embraced her. “You’re doing just fine, Buffy. In fact, you’re doing great! Things have really come together for you.”

Buffy’s smile was watery and tight. “Things are fine during the day, when I work. But the rest of the time? Not so much.”

“Buffy I want to help you, in the nice, old-fashioned, non-magicy-messing-around-with-the-natural-order-of-things kind of way.”

“I understand Willow. But theoretically, is it possible?”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Well, if we’re just talking hypotheticals. I would have to get his body from somewhere. I wouldn’t be able to resurrect it, there’s nothing left to resurrect. The only way to get it would involve some dark magic and time travel, which isn’t completely impossible, but far from easy. Once I got his body, I would be able to call his soul from wherever it’s at, and fill the vessel.”

“Just the soul?” Buffy asked. “Spike was more than that.”

“The vampire part of him too? Jeeze Buffy, I don’t know about that. Buffy, you aren’t thinking about finding someone else to do this are you?”

“What? No, no of course not. I was just wondering is all. I’ll probably feel better tomorrow.”

Willow gave her friend one more, quick hug then stood up. “Buffy, I’ve got to go. Will you be OK?”

Buffy nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m just going to take a bath and go to bed.”

Willow promised to call and then left. Buffy sat up on the couch for a few more minutes, then retired to her bathroom. The bathtub wasn’t very large or luxurious, but it held hot water, and at that second, that was all Buffy needed.

Willow’s explanation of why she couldn’t bring Spike back made sense, and there were several very important points that Buffy had glossed over before. Including the fact that Spike could be in heaven. Can we rest now, Buffy, can we rest? He deserved to rest, and she didn’t want to take that from him.

Buffy stayed in the tub until the water was so cold that she shivered. She wanted to avoid going to bed for as long as possible. As soon as she fell asleep, she would dream of him and it would be the sweetest torture. She had the place to herself for the evening, because she wanted to be alone. Dawn understood without an explanation and made arrangements to stay at a friend’s house, so she could stay up all night and sob like a baby if she wanted.

When the icy water forced her out of the bath, she poured herself a drink without bothering to dry off or even get dressed. The brandy slid down her throat, and the artificial warmth spread through her body, making her tingle and flushed. But it didn’t dull the pain.

She wanted him back. She needed him to come back. She had promised Willow that she would let the matter drop, but she didn’t plan on keeping that promise. Willow was not the only witch she knew, and she was certain she could find someone more than happy to help her out if the price was right.

This wasn’t something Buffy was rushing into, or something she only considered lightly. She had been thinking about and dreaming about getting him back since the Sunnydale sign fell.

Finally, slightly drunk and exhausted, she stumbled into her bedroom. She curled around a pillow and pretended that Spike’s arms were wrapped around her waist. If she closed her eyes tight enough and concentrated, she could almost feel him, almost smell him again. The closer she got to sleep, the more real he became.

You shouldn’t fret so much, pet.

But I miss you.

I miss you too, but you’ve got to move on. Live.

It’s been a year, Spike, and I can’t stop thinking about you. I just want to be with you again.

You can’t. You’ll be fine, Buffy, I promise. You’re strong.   

Make love to me?

I’ve got to go Slayer. Be a good girl. Let it go.

Buffy woke up, confused, with cool tears in her eyes. Just another in a long line of painful dreams. But this time, things were different. Her dreams were mostly memories, or thoughts of how things should have been. Maybe she should just listen to him, and let him go.

She had never been more indecisive over anything in her life. Her heart was telling her, begging her, pleading with her to do one thing, and her mind couldn’t even fully wrap itself around the concept. She knew it was a bad idea, she knew she was setting herself up for failure and pain, and she knew she should move on and come to terms with her loss. She knew all of these things, but she didn’t care.

Sleep would be impossible, so she didn’t even try. Instead she got out of bed and sorted through her desk until she found her small, black notebook. The name and number she needed were on the last page; written hastily in pencil and almost faded away. She sipped at her bottle brandy, forgoing the glass completely, as she looked through the book.

Dorjan was a powerful witch she meant through Angel. He helped track down the new Slayers, and provided a few protection spells for her when she needed help and Willow wasn’t readily available. He ostensibly was a good guy, but Buffy knew better. He worked for Wolfram and Hart, and regardless of what Angel said, they were not exactly good. Would it be terribly rude to call him at—Buffy glance at the clock—3 in the morning? Fuck it, this was an emergency. With a gulp of alcohol, she dialed the phone.

The phone rang six times, each unanswered beep increasing Buffy’s anxiety exponentially. Finally, he answered the phone, and Buffy breathed a sigh of relief because he didn’t sound sleepy or pissed off.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Dorjan?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“It’s Buffy…Buffy Summers. Angel’s friend.”

“Oh, hey Buffy. What’s up? Is there something wrong?”

“I was wondering if you could help me with a small…project.”

“What type of project?”

“It’s not really anything I could tell you over the phone.”

“Want me to come over tonight?”

“If it’s not too late, I would appreciate it.”

“It’s not to late for me.”

”Great, I live at…”

“Oh, I know where you live. See you in a few.”

Buffy replaced the receiver with a sigh of relief. Well, that was much easier than she thought it would be. Of course, now she had to think of a way to explain the entire situation to him without looking completely insane. A part of Buffy knew that was basically impossible.

She quickly got dressed and ran a brush through her hair. No point in scaring the poor guy away. She took one more swig of the brandy before hiding the nearly empty bottle in a kitchen cupboard She briefly considered putting on a fresh layer of make-up, but the doorbell rang before she had a chance.

“How did you get here so fast?” Buffy greeted as she opened the door.

“Teleporting. Pretty handy.”

“Please, come in.”

Dorjan was an intelligent, easy-going guy, somewhere in his thirties. The only word Buffy could use to describe him was cute. He had long, slightly shaggy black hair and a boyishly round face. His gray eyes usually twinkled in good humor, but turned a deadly shade of black when he used his magic. Buffy liked him, despite her suspicions that he wasn’t entirely on the up and up.

“So, blondie, what’s up?”

“You better sit down for this.”

Dorjan complied, and Buffy sat down across from him on the coffee table. It took her several seconds to compose her thoughts before she was prepared to lay the whole story in front of him. He listened carefully, never interrupting the flow of her narrative. He was fascinated by her story, the drama and the complexity, and the beauty of it. Dorjan would never admit it to anybody, but he was something of a romantic, and something about their doomed love really spoke to him.

“So where do I come in?” Dorjan asked when she finally lapsed into silence.

“I want to bring him back,” Buffy stated simply.

Dorjan whistled softly. “That’s a pretty tall order. I can’t even…”

“Resurrect his body, I know.  It’s gone.”

“There is something,” Dorjan said slowly. “W&H has a spell to bring vampires back, but they come back as human. You’d have to turn him. That’s how Darla came back.”

Buffy shook her head. “No, I don’t want to kill William again.”

He sighed, “I don’t know if I can help you Buffy. I don’t know if I should help you.”

“I can understand that this seems like a bad idea, but I have to at least try.” She looked at him with large, pleading green eyes. Dorjan cursed his weakness as a plan began to form.

“What we need is vessel for Spike’s soul, and his demon. Which means we need a body. It is possible to get William’s dead body. I could, theoretically, pull it from the past right after he died but before he was sired.”

Buffy frowned, “Wouldn’t that mean Spike never existed?”

Dorjan nodded, “Kind of. It may be possible to make a copy of his body and then pull it from the past. It would be completely empty. Once we get it we could bring back his soul.”

 

“You could do that?” Buffy asked, incredulous. This was much more complicated than she had ever imagined.

“I could try, but Buffy, I can’t promise anything. A thousand things could go wrong.”

“But it could go right to?”

“Yeah, it could.”

“So, what do you need?”

“Everything I need, I can get at W&H.”

“Will that get you in trouble?”

“No, but if anybody says anything, I’ll tell them I’m working with your authorization.”

Buffy frowned, “Why would you say that?”

“Because the boss man said that the whole LA branch of the firm is at your disposal.”

“Oh, right. I kinda forgot about that.”

“Then why did you call me?”

 

Buffy shrugged, “I thought I could ask you to do it as a favor.”

He chuckled softly. “Right. Anyway, give me a few days. At least two, if not three.”

Buffy nodded. “Ok, I can wait that long. Is there anything you need me to do?”

“Do you have anything of his? Anything of his at all?”

She shook her head. “It was all destroyed. He didn’t own much anyway.”

“Maybe Angel has something,” Dorjan muttered.

“No!” Buffy burst out. “I mean, uh, I don’t want Angel to know.”

“Why not?”

 

“Because, I just don’t.”

“He’s going to find out eventually, Buffy. This won’t work unless we have a personal object of his. So if I were you, I’d figure something out.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow night and update you.”

She took a deep breath. She was actually doing this. She was actually going to mess with the whole universe, time, space, and other dimensions to bring Spike back. The thought overwhelmed her, and made her feel slightly sick.

“Thanks for this.”

“If you change your mind, don’t hesitate to call.”

“I won’t change my mind,” Buffy stated resolutely.

“Well good. At least you’re sure.” Dorjan stood up and Buffy followed him to the door.

“Have a good night,” Buffy said as he opened the door.

He turned around, “You too. And Buffy? Get some sleep, you look like shit.”

Buffy shut the door behind him and felt, for the first time in a year, that sleep was actually possible.

Chapter 2

Buffy woke up with a splitting headache. With every breath, it felt as though somebody was ramming ice picks into her eye sockets. She groaned, and then instantly regretted that she made any sound at all.

Right, she thought, Buffy and booze are not mixy things. What had she done the night before? Fuck, she couldn’t remember anything past the drinking, and the crying. The painkillers were just 10 feet down the hall, on the bathroom vanity. Which was about 9 feet six inches too far.

S’ok. I’ll just stay in bed today. No reason why I have to get…Oh holy fuck! Despite the pain and the dizziness, Buffy bolted from bed, and ran down the hall. She fell to her knees in front of the toilet just as yesterday’s meals spewed from her stomach.

She shuddered and gasped, and collapsed against the toilet. She was far too weak to stand up, and so she knelt there for what felt like hours, trying to gather her strength. She had a few more dry-wretches, but her body was completely empty.

I’m never drinking again, she silently vowed. And I mean it this time. Anything would have been better than this, including Cave!Buffy. I’ll just curl up here and die. That’s a good plan.

When her stomach had settled, and her head hurt slightly less, Buffy dragged her way out of the bathroom, and used the vanity to brace herself as she stood up. With shaking hands, she unscrewed the cap of the Aspirin. She offered up a prayer to whoever watched over sick girls with hangovers that Aspirin would work before she dry swallowed three. She hesitated, and then gulped down a glass of water.

Buffy stumbled into the living room and collapsed onto the couch. Every movement reverberated through her head, causing constant shockwaves of pain. She was so lost in the momentum of her agony that she didn’t notice her phonebook sitting out for nearly an hour. Then the black leather caught her eye.

“Why is that out?” She mumbled. “That doesn’t go there.”

She picked it up and examined it. Who did she call last night? Did she make drunken calls to her exes? No, that didn’t sound right. Did she make drunken calls to her friends? No, because if she had, they would have come over and took the booze away from her. She glanced through the pages, hoping they would offer some clue. Finally she saw it. The number penciled in on the last page.

“Oh,” she breathed, “Oh god.” Oh no, no, no, no. Wasn’t that part just a dream? That part had to have been just a dream. Did she really call him? Did she really plead with him to bring Spike back? Oh no. Oh god.

Buffy took a few deep breaths, her massive headache forgotten. It seemed so insignificant compared to the extremely massive stupidity she exhibited the night before. She would need to call Dorjan, and explain to him that it was just a mistake, she didn’t mean it, and he didn’t need to go through with it. 

She had to dial the number several times. Her pain may be forgotten, but her eyes were still far from focused and her hands were not completely responding to her commands. Finally, the correct numbers were dialed in the correct sequence, and the phone was answered after only a few rings.

“Dorjan?”

“Yes? Is this Buffy?”

“Yeah, we need to talk.”

“Oh, I’d love to, but I can’t right now. I’ll call you later.”

“But…”

“Later, Buffy.”

Click.

Shit.

Buffy took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. Dorjan wouldn’t resurrect Spike if she asked him not to, right? If she absolutely had to, she could go over his head to Angel. Which was a cheap trick, but desperate times called for desperate measures. But it wouldn’t come to that, she was sure of it.

What could possibly possess her to ask a witch to bring back Spike? Other than a great deal of alcohol, an intense feeling of grief, and a desperate loneliness, what could possibly possess her?

~*~

By six that night, Dawn was home, Buffy felt like a normal person again, and Dorjan hadn’t called back.  Buffy tried to act as normal as possible, and not give away her extreme anxiety. Every time the phone rang, she jumped a foot and leapt for the receiver. And every time it was for Dawn. Twice she attempted to call him back, but the phone just rang and rang. Nobody answered, not even a machine or voice mail.

Buffy knew something was very wrong. She felt it in her gut. The thought drove her to distraction. She wanted to go out and Slay, but she didn’t do that anymore. She wanted to beat something up, but there was nothing left to kill. She was tempted to march down to the law firm itself and storm the offices until she found Dorjan and made it clear that the plan was definitely off. If she didn’t hear from him by the next morning, she would do exactly that.

Finally, just as she was prepared to go to bed, the call came.

“Dorjan? What took you so long?”

“Sorry, Buffy, I had a major lead.” Excitement was dripping from his words, and Buffy could tell he was hardly containing himself.

“Look, about that…”

 

“You don’t need to talk to Angel if that’s what is worrying you. I found a loophole.”

“Dorjan, I appreciate all of your hard work. I do. But I’ve changed my mind.”

Dead silence stretched across the city through the phone lines.

“Dorjan? Are you still there?”

“What? You’ve changed your mind?”

Buffy swallowed, hard. His voice had changed, and now carried a distinct quality of menace. “I was drunk last night,” she tried to explain, “I was out of my mind with grief.”

“Do you know how hard I worked today?”

“No,” Buffy admitted. “But I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“It’s too late Buffy.”

 

“What? What does that mean? Too late for what?” Panic made her voice climb an octave.

“I’m making it happen tonight. It was so much easier than I thought it would be.”

“Dorjan, you cannot do this. Please, it’s wrong. I’m sorry for all the hard work you did today, but please.”

“It’s too late,” he repeated.

“You should have called me back! You should have talked to me this morning when I called you. This is your fault.”

Buffy could hear the shrug. “You shouldn’t have made a deal with a man you don’t know.” And for the second time that day, he hung up on her.

She lost no time getting dressed and rushing out the door.

“Where are you going?” Dawn shouted after her.

“Emergency!” Buffy shouted over her shoulder as she slammed the door behind her. She ran down the stairs, fumbling with her keys. Her hands felt numb, her heart hammered in her ears. A part of her was breathless with excitement, but most of her was absolutely horrified what she had done.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered under her breath, “I’m so sorry Spike. God, please let me get there in time.”

Buffy knew there was a chance that the spell wouldn’t work at all, but she couldn’t count on that. Dorjan had sounded so excited on the phone, so confident and cold. He definitely expected something to happen tonight.

She drove like a maniac through LA, careening blinding down the streets. She knew the route well, and she didn’t have to give it a second thought. She could have driven those streets blindfolded. Dorjan’s words echoed through her ears.

It was the wail of the police siren that pulled her out of her thoughts. “Fuck!” She shouted as she pulled to the ride side of the road. “Don’t let him stop, don’t let him stop, don’t let him stop…” He stopped directly behind her.

“Good evening ma’am, do you have any idea how fast you were going?”

Buffy shook her head numbly, precious seconds slipping through her fingers as the police officer droned on.

“Is there an emergency, ma’am?”

“Yes!” Buffy exclaimed, maybe too loudly. “A huge, big, horrible emergency. It’s my boyfriend…he’s…dead.”

Good, good, that was good.

The officer frowned. “Dead?”

Buffy nodded frantically. “Dead. Or dying. All I know is that I need to get to him.”

“Well? Which is it? Dead or dying?”

“I don’t know! Please, officer, I’m sorry.”

“I have to give you a ticket, you were going 50 in a 35 zone.”

“Ok, yes, that’s fine.”

“Can I see your license and registration?”

Buffy rummaged through her purse and her glove box until she found the requested documents and handed them to him.

“Looks like your license is expired.”

“What?” Buffy gasped. “No, it expires on my 25^th birthday. I still have two years to go.”

“That’s not what this says. It says it expired at the beginning of this month. Can you step out of the car Miss Summers?”

Buffy calmly and slowly opened the door and left the car. She hadn’t used her Slayer strength in a few months, but she still had it. “Sorry,” she mumbled, before pulling back and letting fly with a punch right to the nose. Her fist connected solidly with his face, and he stumbled back a few steps before dropping to the ground, unconscious.

She dragged him to his car and locked him in. Hopefully, that would keep him safe. She knew she would be totally fucked in the morning. He knew what she looked like and her name. But all that mattered was getting to Wolfram and Hart, and she still had 5 blocks to go.

She sped those final blocks, keeping an eye out for policeman this time. Angel had given her a special, reserved spot on the top floor of the parking garage, and she was out of the car before the engine was even off. It was only then that she realized she had absolutely no idea where to find Dorjan, or if he was even at the law firm.

Buffy knew her best bet would be to go directly to Angel. She knew him well enough to know that he would still be in his office. But if she went to him, she would have to explain the whole thing, and she didn’t want to do that. She didn’t know if she could do that. “Hey Angel, I went behind your back to one of your evil witches to ask him if he would resurrect Spike! So, what’s new with you?”

If she couldn’t go to Angel, who could she go to? Fred? No, Fred probably wasn’t there. She wasn’t really friendly when any of Angel’s gang, and none of them would have any reason to help her. Except maybe Wesley. Perhaps he still had a bit of Watcher in him? And what Watcher could turn down a Slayer in need?

She made a bee-line to Wes’s office. Well, it wasn’t really an office. It was more like a small apartment. He kept a change of clothes there, a couch, and most of his weapons. Sometimes he spent the night there, and Buffy fervently hoped this was one of those nights. 

Buffy knocked on the door and nearly cheered when Wesley’s gruff voice answered. “Who is it?”

“Wesley? It’s me, Buffy. I need your help.”

She could hear him moving about, and, was he talking to somebody? Oh god, it never occurred to her that he would be in there with somebody. He flung the door open. “What is it? Is someone hurt?”

“No, no not yet. Wes, I did something really, really stupid.”

“You sure did, little girl,” Lilah drawled from behind Wes. “What did you talk Drojan into doing?”

“Nothing,” Buffy insisted. “I told him to stop. I told him I didn’t mean it. He wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Stop what?” Wes asked.

“She’s bringing back her lover,” Lilah answered. “And he’s using some pretty dark magic to make it happen.”

“Do you know where he’s at? Please, I need to stop him.”

Lilah nodded. “Follow me.”

She led them down the hall and to the elevator. “Does Angel know?” Wes asked once the doors closed behind them.

“No,” Buffy answered, “And I don’t want him to. I asked Drojan for help last night, but I was drunk and not thinking clearly. I tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Drojan doesn’t listen to anybody. If he agreed to help you, he had ulterior motives.”

 

“What possible motives could he have to bring back Spike?”

“The rush,” Wesley said softly. “He’s doing it for the rush. It’s an incredible power trip, that kind of magic. Nobody as powerful as Drojan could resist it.”

For a moment, Buffy’s knees were weak. Did she finally have her answer to the question that had plagued her for the past three years? Did Wes just unwittingly tell her what, exactly, had possessed Willow to bring her back? No, Wes didn’t inform her of anything, just confirmed what she already knew.

“I can feel it,” Lilah said. “We’re too late.”

“How much longer?”

“We’re here.” The doors slid open and Buffy braced herself to see something horrible, but it was just an empty hallway. “Last room on the left.”

Buffy sprinted, Wesley following quickly at her heels, and Lilah walked behind them sedately. It took all of Buffy’s considerable strength to force the heavy door open.

“You’re too late,” Lilah repeated just as the door fell open. Lilah’s words were drowned out by Drojan’s ecstatic shout of victory. “I did it!”

His shout was followed by a loud clap of what sounded like thunder. Buffy was just in time to see Drojan fly across the room just as a naked body appeared on the table in the middle of the room.

“Wesley, take care of Drojan!” Buffy shouted as she rushed to the table. They weren’t too late. He just had the body, not Spike’s soul. It would be ok.

The body stretched before her was pale and thin, his lips blue. Sandy brown curls fell into the ashen, taunt face. Buffy’s heart leapt to her throat. It looked like Spike.  She was going to lose him again.

“Oh, Spike, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She leaned forward and placed a small kiss on the body’s lips, just as he opened his eyes.

“Miss?”

Buffy jumped back. “Spike?”

He shook his head. His voice was hardly a whisper, and Buffy could only hear him due to her proximity to him. “Who?”

Oh. God. “William?”

He nodded before his eyes fluttered shut.

Chapter 3

William was alive. Alive was William. William was not dead. William was unconscious. William was alive. No matter how many times Buffy repeated the words, they didn’t make sense. She knew what each word meant individually, but put together in that order, they made no sense.

“What was that?” Angel asked, bursting into the room, fangs bared. He paused to take in the tableaux before him. “What is going on?”

Nobody talked, nobody knew where to start.

“Well?” Angel asked.

“Dorjan is unconscious,” Wes announced. “We should get him out of here.”

 

“Before  I kill him,” Buffy muttered. 

“Dorjan? What’s going on here?” Angel demanded. “Lilah? Did you have anything to do with this?”

“Not me, Boss.”

Angel crossed the room to the table. “Who is this? Oh God. Buffy?”

“It’s not Spike,” Buffy explained. “It’s William.”

 

Angel hesitantly reached out and brushed a curl off of William’s forehead. “I know who it is. How did he get here?”

“I’m taking him,” Wesley gestured to the witch, “upstairs. I’ll bring some clothes back for—our guest.”

Buffy nodded, then turned her attention back to the prone body before her. “Dorjan said we could bring Spike back, we just needed a body,” she explained, tonelessly, “he said he could get a copy of William’s dead body.”

“When?” Angel didn’t sound angry, yet.

“We talked last night. When I woke up this morning, I changed my mind. I tried to get him to stop, I begged him to stop, but he wouldn’t listen. I got here too late.”

“So you weren’t expecting…this?”

 

Buffy shook her head. She just couldn’t look away from William. “What are we going to do with him? He’s here now.”

 

“It’s going to be really hard on him, Buffy, we might want to consider sending him back.”

“We can’t, Angel. We don’t know what exactly Dorjan did, but I know what he said—he was making a replica of the body.”

Angel sighed, “I guess somebody here can take care of him.”

“You’re just going to pass him off to some stranger?”

“Buffy, he’s going to need a lot of care…”

“Look, we’ll talk about it later. Right now we need to get him some help. Look at his neck. Dorjan pulled him forth right before he died.”

“I’ll call a doctor…”

“Already done,” Lilah said. “I called him while you two were gabbing.”

As if one cue, a squat, gray old man appeared at the door. Without a word, he bustled over to William’s side and started to check him out.

“What did you do to this young man?”

“Nothing,” Buffy said quickly.

“You’re lucky he is still alive. He’s lost a lot of blood. I’m going to have to take him to the lab.”

“How long until he’s better?”

The doctor shrugged. “Do I look like a psychic?”

“I’ll carry him to the lab,” Angel announced. “Can we wait until Wes comes back with the clothes?”

The doctor shook his head, “No, we need to get him down there right away.”

Angel effortlessly lifted William’s naked body and followed the doctor out the door. Buffy followed Angel closely, guilt and fear making her loath to let William out of her sight, even for a moment. She just could not get over how frail he looked. She had seen Spike naked before, seen him beat up, seen him abused, burnt, insane, and vulnerable. But she had never seen him look frail.

Buffy understood that the man Angel was carrying wasn’t Spike, not entirely. But he was the core of Spike. He shared Spike’s body. She just could not wrap her mind around the paradox. He was Spike, and yet, he wasn’t Spike. He was a very human, very weak, very sick man, who would be very confused as soon as he was well enough to open his eyes.

And once he healed, then what? Could she really allow Angel to just pass him off to some stranger? It made a lot of practical sense. Buffy didn’t have the time required to take care of him and introduce him to the world. She didn’t really have the room for him in her apartment, and she certainly didn’t have the money to feed and clothe him. Buffy was comfortable, but far from well off, and only because of very careful budgeting. It would be extremely difficult, if not impossible, to fit William into her life.

But morally, she had a duty to him, and she knew it. He wouldn’t be in this strange, new world if it weren’t for her drunken mistake. He wouldn’t be all alone amongst a group of strangers, in a place he couldn’t possibly imagine, far from his friends and family. She could not, in good conscience, leave him at Wolfram and Hart without a second thought. She owed him more than that.

Nobody spoke until William was safely deposited on a hospital bed. This place really has everything, Buffy thought idly. As soon as Angel stepped back from the bed, the doctor immediately hooked William up to two IVs, and then bandaged his neck. Buffy watched silently until the old man was done fussing with his patient.

“He should be OK.” The doctor announced. “He’ll need to stay here for at least another 24 hours, if not more.”

“Thank you, Doctor—“

“Roberts. You guys should clear out now.”

Dr. Roberts herded them out of the room, and shut the door behind them.

“So? What are you going to do now?” Angel asked.

“I’m going to go home, and talk to Dawn. Then I’m going to go to bed because I have to work tomorrow. Tomorrow afternoon I’ll fix up a place for William, and come get him tomorrow night.”

“What? Buffy, you can’t take him home with you.”

“I have to!”

“He’s not a pet, Buffy! You can’t afford to take care of him.”

“I can’t afford to leave him here, either. He’s going to need a friend when he wakes up, not a babysitter.”

“Buffy, don’t think I don’t know what you are doing.”

“What am I doing?”

“You can’t have Spike, so you’re taking the next best thing.”

“That’s not true at all,” she exclaimed. “It’s my fault he’s here. He’s my responsibility.”

“You aren’t thinking clearly, is all I’m trying to say.”

“Angel, I don’t want to fight with you about this. It’s not your decision.”

“Buffy, you have no idea what he’s going to need…”

“I’m not stupid Angel, I’m sure I can figure out what a grown man needs.” She paused and grimaced. “That came out wrong.”

“What’s he going to do, Buffy? Sleep on the couch?”

“I’ll think of something. Look, I’ve got to get home. I’ll be back tomorrow. Oh, and Angel? I got pulled over tonight.”

“Yeah?”

“For speeding, and he said my license was expired.”

“Is it?”

”No! I think Dorjan did something to my license.”

“You want me to check it out?”

”Could you?”

“Yeah, I’ll be taking care of Dorjan…”

Buffy left Angel standing outside William’s room, and slowly made her way to the parking garage. She still hadn’t fully processed all of the events of the past 24 hours. Understanding in an abstract way that it would be difficult to help William was one thing, but actually re-working her entire life to accommodate him was another thing all together. And how could she possibly explain this whole mess Dawn.

During the long, slow, careful drive home, Buffy carefully rehearsed exactly how she would explain the situation to Dawn. She figured Dawn would be fairly understanding and adult about the whole thing—well, she hoped so anyway. The last thing she needed was for Dawn to go fucking ballistic on her, or get all judgmental and whiny. In order for this to work, she would need Dawn’s full support.

Dawn, you ever wonder who Spike was before he was a vampire? Dawn, you know what would be fun? Inviting a strange man to live with us! and Dawn, would you be willing to share your bedroom were also bad ideas. How do you explain to your little sister, the girl that you are supposed to raise, that you got drunk off your ass and raised the dead? Or at least, tried to? So much for setting a good example.

She also had to plan the living arrangements. It made the most sense to give William her bed and take the couch for the time being. It wouldn’t do to make her ill, displaced guest sleep on the hard, unforgiving, second-hand sofa. She’d have to shopping for clothes and figure out what he liked to eat.

Dawn was waiting up for her when Buffy finally opened her front door. “

 

“What are you still doing up?”

“Waiting for you. Where have you been?”

Buffy sighed, “It’s a long story. I’ll simplify it as much as possible. I tried to bring back Spike. I got William instead. He’s sick and staying at W&H tonight, and I’m bringing him here tomorrow.” There, that wasn’t so bad.

Dawn blinked. “You tried to bring back Spike?”

She shrugged. “I was told it was possible.”

“And instead you brought back the man Spike was before he died?”

“Right.”

“And he’s going to live here?”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m…I’m going to bed.”

“Dawn, don’t you want to talk about this?”

“I’m tired. We can talk tomorrow.”

“We need to make plans though, and I need your…”

“Do what you want Buffy, just don’t mess with my room.”

Buffy frowned at Dawn’s back. Ok, maybe it wasn’t the best decision she had ever made, but would it kill her to offer a bit of support and understanding? She collapsed onto the sofa, too exhausted to even make it to her own bed. She could only hope that when she woke up the next morning, the events of the past 24 hours would be nothing more than the figments of a bad dream.

~*~

William felt horrible. There wasn’t a part of his body that didn’t ache. His neck throbbed, his head throbbed, his mouth felt like it was full of sand, and he couldn’t swallow. He wiggled his fingers and his toes. Good, they were still attached to his body.

Where was he? He vaguely recalled seeing a woman, a strange blonde woman, standing over him. He didn’t remember much other than that. He knew that he had been at a party, and that he left, and ran into a rather stunning creature. But that was the extent of his ability to recall what happened.

He wanted to die. At least if he died, the pain would stop. Had he been mugged? That was a distinct possibility; he knew that there had been a rash of crimes in his area of London. If that was the case, then he was lucky he was still alive.

A deep fear, something unnamable and indescribable, forced William to keep his eyes screwed tightly shut. A part of him knew that when he did open his eyes, it would be painful and frightening, and change his life completely. It was the blonde woman, the one that called him Spike, that had terrified him so. She was different from anything he had ever seen before.

Unfortunately, his innate curiosity eventually got the best of him. With a Herculean effort, William forced his heavy eyelids opened. And instantly regretted it. The world around him was beyond anything he could imagine. Bright lamp—candles?—shown in his eyes,  some sort of machines surrounded him, and there were needles sticking out of his arm. He focused his attention on the room, and finally heard the steady rhythm of the heart monitor and the constant whir of dozens of machines surrounding him. Sounds he had no name for, coming from objects he had never seen before.

The scream started in the back of this throat and built until it burst from his mouth, high-pitched and blood-curdling. He didn’t want to scream, and even as the awful sound was coming from him, he cursed himself as a coward. A real man would not scream like a girl, regardless of how bizarre things were. A real man would take stock of the situation, form a plan of action, and get out of the predicament. Though a part of William knew this, the rest of him could not stop screaming.

Unfamiliar people rushed to his side. Three men and a woman. Something about the tallest man scared him more than anything ever had before in his life. Scared him more than the room, and the weird sounds, and the aches and pains that increased with the volume of his anguished shouts.

“Can you calm him down?” The tall man shouted. William barely heard him though. Now that the shouting had morphed into full hysterics, and far from making him feel better, it only terrified him more.

“Yes, yes,” an older man said. “Hold him.”

They grabbed his thrashing limbs and forced him to down onto the bed. Angel and Wes easily kept him still, but William did not stop struggling to break free from his captors. Every instinct in his body was telling him to run, and the accompanying adrenalin rush made him completely forget his previous agony.

“William, hold still!”

The words didn’t penetrate the fog that had surrounded his brain. Then suddenly, the horrible screaming stopped. No more sound came from William’s throat. He looked up at Angel with wide, angry blue eyes, and Angel sucked in air sharply. For just a brief second, he looked like Spike. Then the blue eyes dimmed, the eyelids fell shut, and William slumped in the bed.

“What the hell was all that about?” Angel asked, more shaken up by the whole episode than he would ever like to admit.

“He fell asleep in Victorian London and woke up here, Angel. It’s no surprise that he was shocked,” Wesley said calmly.

“He didn’t sound shocked. He sounded hysterical.”

“Well, now the question is, how do we keep him from freaking out again?”

“One of us will have to stay with him,” Angel suggested. “And since I know…knew…him, I guess I will.”

“Are you sure that’s wise Angel? He started screaming louder when he saw your beefy head,” Lilah observed.

“Do you want to stay with him?” Angel asked.

She held up her hands in mock surrender, “Not me Boss.”

“I gave him a large dose,” Dr. Roberts said. “He should be out for quite awhile. Enough time to give you an idea of what you want to do with him, at least.”

“Well, that’s something. I can’t let Buffy take him though until I’m sure he won’t go crazy,” Angel announced. Nobody argued with him.

Chapter 4

Buffy was distracted by thoughts of William all day. After lunch, she claimed she had a killer headache, and asked if she could please get the rest of the day off. Mr. Smith was more than happy to give a half day to his “favorite employee” and even offered to pay her for a full day. For the millionth time, she thanked her lucky stars she that she found such a nice, understanding person to work for.

Buffy stopped at Wal-Mart on the way home. She needed to pick up some extra food, and stuff for William. She didn’t know what, exactly, William would need, but she was sure she could figure it out as she shopped. She wandered up and down the aisles, doing her best to dodge screaming children and women who randomly pushed their carts around, heedless of any human obstacles in front of them. She masterfully negotiated through the maze of products she didn’t need, until she reached the beauty and hygiene section.

He would need razors, right? She certainly couldn’t share her razors with him. And he would need a toothbrush, shampoo, clothes…the more Buffy thought about it, the more overwhelmed she felt. Finally she just resorted to randomly throwing objects into the cart. She could bring anything back that she didn’t need.

After she got home, she spent the rest of the afternoon preparing her bedroom for William and cleaning the house. She did so half-heartedly, her mind a million miles away. Images of William and Spike whirled in front of her eyes. William. Spike. Spike. William. Buffy could remember exactly what William looked like the night before, down to the last detail. He was Spike, but at the same time, he wasn’t. The paradox sent her head spinning, and she eventually decided it would be wise to not think about it at all.

When Dawn got home, she mostly ignored Buffy and focused on her homework, but occasionally she would look up and glare at her sister. She didn’t bother offering to help Buffy clean the house, and didn’t make a move to get up when Buffy reminded her it was her turn to make dinner. Buffy was picking up distinct vibes of resentment and anger from her sister, but she didn’t understand why. She didn’t have time to talk to Dawn about it though.

“Are you going to get him now?” Dawn asked coolly when Buffy grabbed her purse and her keys.

“I am.”

“I’m going to Lisa’s house.”

“Dawn, you can’t go out. It’s a school night.”

“I don’t want to be here when you get back.”

“Dawn, what is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?”

“Because I…you know what? Forget about it, you wouldn’t understand anyway.”

“Well, make understand then,” Buffy invited.

“I’m out of here. I’m spending the night at her place.”

“Dawn you…” the door slammed hard enough to shake the pictures on the wall, “can’t. Shit.”

Buffy was honestly perplexed by Dawn’s reaction, but she knew chasing after her wouldn’t do any good. Dawn was notoriously mule-headed and there would be no talking until Dawn was ready.

~*~

Angel simply did not know what to do with this human, drugged to the gills, looking like Spike, passing in and out of consciousness, screaming, mumbling about his mother, reciting poetry, and crying. What does one do in these situations? He didn’t trust anybody else to sit up with William, but he certainly didn’t want to spend more minute dealing with this particular brand of insanity.

The bite on his neck wasn’t healing, and this concerned Dr. Roberts greatly. A small trickle of blood leaked out of the punctures, and it refused to scab over. Angel had to change the bandage every hour, and each time, the potent elixir of William’s blood—fear and confusion-- made his head spin and his eyes water. He just wanted one little taste. It didn’t help that he could still smell Drusilla all over the bite mark. The smell transported him back to the night William was turned—what a disaster that was.

Drusilla knew how to turn vampires, and did so on a regular basis. The problem was, Drusilla got distracted from William after only giving him a sip of blood. Enough to make him hungry. He started thrashing around in the ally, desperate for more blood, Dru started screaming and attracting attention, blood got everywhere, and Darla was pissed. Angelus did his best to quiet everybody down before the police showed up, but Dru didn’t want to leave her new prize behind. She started sobbing wildly and tearing and Angelus to escape him. Finally he let her go, fed William from his own wrist, then quickly found a place for all of them to hole up for a few days.

Now the young man that he molded into a vampire over a century ago was in his office, and, not for the first time, Angel cursed his luck. He didn’t want to know the man behind the monster. He didn’t want a first row seat to see the kind of person Spike really was, to see the kind of person he could have become if he had never met Drusilla. William would be yet another constant reminder of what an animal Angelus was.

~*~

William’s world tilted and whirled, full of bleeding colors, disembodied voices, and smirking faces. He was in two worlds at once, aware of the people moving around his body, and unable to escape the demons in his mind. Events, people, conversations, dreams, all blended together until he didn’t know what was real and what was not. He didn’t care either.

There were two images, however, that remained crystal clear, even if he couldn’t place who they were or how he knew them; the dark haired beauty he met in the ally, and the blonde who called him Spike. They floated in and out of his mind in harsh clarity, and he felt as though he could remember every single detail of their faces.

The pain was still there, but it was as distant as his memories. It lingered, but William could disassociate himself from it. He could examine it, turn it over in his hands, toss it aside, and move on. It felt odd to consider the pain to be a truly solid object to be thrown away, but in William’s delirium it made perfect sense.

One thing that could not be tossed aside was the fear. Despite the heavy use of tranquilizers, William had not calmed down. In fact, the screams of terror lurked just below the surface. It was her voice that finally pulled him out of his haze,  and pushed the terror back.

~*~

“What the hell did you do to him?” Buffy demanded.

“We gave him some tranquilizers, Buffy, we had to.”

“He looks horrible. Is he sick? I thought the doctor was going to make him better.”

“He looks better than he did last night. But we can’t get the bite to stop bleeding.”

“Why did you have to give him tranquilizers?”

“Every time he woke up, he went hysterical,” Angel explained. “He must have been afraid.”

“Well, wouldn’t you be?”

“Are you really going to take him home with you tonight? I still don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“If I leave him here, you guys will just dope him up. I can help him.” William stirred as she spoke, and she placed a reassuring hand on his forehead. “He needs me.”

“Buffy, he isn’t Spike.”

 

“Well, thank you for reminding me again, Angel. What would I do without you? Let’s get him to my car before he wakes up.”

 

“And what if he wakes up while he’s in the car? How are you going to control him and drive at the same time?”

Buffy sighed and collapsed on the chair next to the bed. “Angel, I don’t get it. I don’t get why you are so upset, and I don’t get why Dawn is so angry with me. I know this is my fault, ok? My mistake, I get it. Buffy messed up big time. I’m trying to fix it, and all I get is grief.”

“What’s wrong with Dawn?”

“I don’t know. She’s furious with me. Won’t even talk to me. Can you just help me out please?”

Angel understood that there was no point in arguing with her anymore. He stated his opinion, and she chose to ignore it. Which is usually how it worked between them. There really wasn’t anything else he could say.

They worked together silently to get William out of bed, and then Angel carried him down to her car.

“Where’s he going to sleep?”

“In my bed,” Buffy answered. “I’m taking the couch for now.”

Angel deposited William in the backseat, and Buffy made sure he was buckled in. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I think I’ve got everything under control.”

“If you’re sure. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” Buffy promised.

“And Buffy? Be careful.”

“I will, I will.”

The ride home passed without incident, and Buffy got William up to bed without too much trouble. He remained mostly asleep the whole time, though more than once he woke up to mumble words that didn’t even make sense. Buffy sat on the edge of the bed and watched him sleep, unable to look away.

He wasn’t quite as pale anymore, and his cheeks had the rosy kiss of life. It was slightly disconcerting to see Spike’s face look well and truly alive, to see him breathing, to see his hair its natural shade of honey-brown. She felt as though she could study him for hours, comparing and contrasting him to the demon she once knew.

It was while Buffy was gazing longingly at William for something he didn’t have that he woke up. The shout that was dancing at the tip of his tongue dried up on his lips at the sight of her. She looked so…lost. Like she was missing something more valuable than any diamond, and there was no hope in finding it. Poems. He wanted to write poems for her, to make her happy, to help her find what she had lost.

William didn’t dare open his mouth. He didn’t dare move or speak at all, afraid that this spell would be broken, and the paralyzing fear would come back. Who was she? Did she even see him? She was looking directly at him, and yet, she didn’t give any indication that she saw him at all. So, William let her stare unseeingly at him, while he began the slow, tedious process of piecing together his broken thoughts.

He still couldn’t remember everything clearly, but he had the feeling that for now, it was best that he couldn’t. There were still unfamiliar sounds surrounding him, and things he had never seen before, but for the first time since he woke up the night before, he felt like he had a bit of control over himself. As long as he just took it one breath at a time, he could hold things together.

When he finally felt ready, he opened his mouth. No sounds came out, so he closed it. He opened it again, and again, so stray screams crept from the back of his throat. This was good. This meant that he would be able to talk sooner, rather than later. Finally, gathering his nerve, he opened his mouth for a third time. “Miss?”

Buffy’s eyes focused. “Oh, you’re awake,” she exclaimed. “How do you feel? Do you need anything? Feel free to ask. Does your neck hurt? Do you want me to change your bandages?”

William was slightly taken aback from her excitement and babbling. “Um, I’m fine Miss?”

 

“Buffy Summers. Call me Buffy.”

He smiled shyly than introduced himself as William Smith. Buffy could tell he would have liked to say more, but he looked very tired and his eyes darted around nervously.

“William, I know you’re scared. I would be too, in your situation. But it looks like you need more to adjust.” She stood up. “I’m just going to go get something…”

William grabbed her hand, weakly. “No! I mean, can you stay? Please?”

“Yeah, I can stay. No problem.”

“Where…where am I?”

Buffy sighed, “William, it’s a very long story. I think maybe I should wait until you’re a bit stronger before I tell you.”

William thought that about silently for several seconds. Buffy wisely kept her mouth shut as he worked through his thoughts. “I think I would like to know,” he finally said.

“You’re in my apartment, in Los Angeles, California. In America.”

“I’m in America? Are there any cowboys or outlaws?” He sounded almost eager.

She smiled, “Not the kind you’re thinking of. William, you are in the year 2004.”

The announcement was met with shocked silence as he tried to process the news. “I think…I think I would like some time alone,” he finally mumbled.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded.

“That’s fine. I’m just in the next room, call me if you need anything.”

“I…I will.”

William leaned back on the bed, shaken to his core. He finally understood what was going on. Whatever happened at the party had driven him completely insane.

Chapter 5

Dawn came home early the next morning, before anybody woke up. The pre-dawn light painted the world a soft gray, and Dawn didn’t bother turning on the lights. She quietly stepped through the apartment, careful not to disturb Buffy, who was sleeping on the couch. She didn’t feel like dealing with Buffy at that point.

She bypassed her room, and instead went into Buffy’s. As she expected, William was there, also asleep. William. Spike. Buffy didn’t understand, she didn’t understand most things. She thought she was the only one who mourned Spike. She thought she was the only who lay awake at nights, thinking of things that should have been different. She thought she was the only one with regrets.

Dawn resented Buffy, just a little. She had come to terms with Spike and what he meant to her. They had made their peace together and moved on. Dawn never had a chance for closure, never really had a chance to talk to him and maybe even forgive him. She had to live with that for the past year, with the knowledge that she lost her best friend twice. And it took a year to deal with that, to allow those wounds to scab over and begin to finally heal.

So what does Buffy do? She tries to drag him back when Dawn was finally ready to put the past behind her. How could she be so selfish? And now there was this…man…this person she didn’t know, sleeping in her house, with Spike’s face. Dawn was used to weird shit happening to her. Weird shit defined her life. But how was she supposed to adjust to a twice dead man transported from 120 years ago sleeping in her sister’s bed?

Dawn had always meant to talk to Spike. Several times, he had attempted to talk to her. He would say her name, pause, cock his head, then say “never mind” and walk away. She never called after him, never approached him, but god, she always meant to. Dawn angrily wiped her tears away. She was finished crying over Spike, supposedly.

The bandage on William’s neck had come loose while he slept, and Dawn tentatively pushed it aside. He wasn’t bleeding, the bandage was clean, but the bite mark looked angry and red. It would scar, no doubt. Spike had many scars, but none from Drusilla. Physical ones, at any rate.

Dawn pulled up a chair beside the bed and perched on the edge. She didn’t want to leave him, not yet. She needed to grow accustomed to seeing him, readjust her life around this new addition, and try to get her tumultuous emotions under control. She would just take a few more minutes, then get dressed and start her day.

“He looks softer, doesn’t he?” Buffy said quietly from behind her. Dawn didn’t turn around, not even when Buffy placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Not when he’s asleep,” Dawn said. “He looks the same when he’s asleep. Spike was almost peaceful when he slept.”

“The color is a bit off.”

“What else is different?” Dawn asked, almost inaudibly.

“I don’t know Dawn. Come in the kitchen and I’ll make breakfast.”

Dawn grimaced, “Um, no thanks. I’ll make breakfast.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.”

“Yes, Buffy, it is that bad.”

They girls exited the bedroom, so absorbed in their bickering that they didn’t notice William open his bright, blue eyes. He frowned and rolled over, his back to the door. Who was that other girl? It was highly inappropriate to be in his bedroom, especially when he was asleep. William didn’t like that at all, and couldn’t help the slight blush creeping over his cheeks.

He was only slightly surprised when he opened his eyes in the same bed he fell asleep in. William’s final hope before he fell asleep was that he would wake up in his own bed, with the sound of the maid banging around the kitchen, and his mother singing hymns in the drawing room. Perhaps he would take his mother out to the park and read her some poetry. But those hopes were dashed when he felt the presence of the younger girl in his room, staring at him intently.

William was in the habit of writing a few lines of poetry every morning, just as the sun came up. It was when he felt most inspired. The golden sun, the singing birds, the loud bustle of the streets below, conspired against him until words fairly poured from his pen. It was with a great deal of pain that he realized there were no words twirling and dancing around his head, just out of reach. Empty silence greeted him, and he had nothing. He tried to force a line about his beloved Cecily, but nothing came. He tried to force three simple words together, and three words, to describe something, anything. He didn’t care, but nothing happened.

This was not supposed to happen to him. Words were not supposed to die. How could he be stranded in a new time, a new place, a new continent, a new life, with no words? His hands clenched in desperation, and the emotions that were never far rose up, tears stung his eyes. Tears of desperation, not fear.  He wasn’t afraid anymore; he knew things were completely, and utterly out of his control in every way.

Buffy stuck her head into the room to see if William was awake, and immediately asked him what was wrong. She couldn’t see his face, but it was clear, even to her,  from his body language that he was extremely distressed. He didn’t respond, just took a deep, shaky breath.

“William?” She repeated, “What’s wrong?” Stupid question, Buffy thought. What isn’t wrong would be a better question.

“Nothing,” he finally said, his voice tight. “Please, I just wish to be alone.”

“Ok William, just…if you need anything, I’m here to help.”

“There is one thing, actually.” William still didn’t turn around, but his voice was more even now. “Do you have a paper and a pen? If it’s not too much trouble?”

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll be right back.”

Buffy frantically searched through the kitchen cabinets, looking for anything resembling paper. She came up empty handed. “How is this possible? What? We never use paper?”

“What do you need paper for?” Dawn asked.

“William asked for some, I’m looking for a notebook that’s not full or covered in strawberry jam.”

Dawn disappeared into her room and returned seconds later, triumphantly, with a red notebook and a pack of pens. “For his poems?” She asked.

Buffy frowned, “How do you know he wrote…writes…poems?”

“I knew—know—a lot of stuff about him, Buffy,” Dawn said softly as she handed the notebook over. “He was my friend once too you know.”

Buffy looked slightly taken aback, as though she had completely forgotten Dawn’s relationship with Spike. “Right, I know. It’s just, he didn’t talk much about his, you know, past.”

“He did when he was drunk.”

Buffy pursed her lips, temporarily annoyed at the thought of Dawn hanging out with Spike when he was drunk enough to spill embarrassing stories.

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. Those nights, they were long Buffy.”

“I know.” They paused, both slightly uncomfortable as they were assaulted by memories best left buried. “I better get these to him,” she finally said.

“Yeah. Anyway, I won’t be home until late tonight.”

“Why?”

“Going to a party with some of my friends.”

“You’re just telling me now? You don’t bother to ask anymore.”

“Buffy, I asked you last week.”

“What did I say?”

“You said yes.”

“I’m going to take your word for it this time. Don’t forget your curfew, or I’ll send Angel after you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

Dawn stuck out her tongue, gathered up her books, and was gone. Buffy hesitated a moment, then decided to prepare William a tray. As far as she knew, he hadn’t eaten once since arriving. Toast, orange juice, and an apple. Not much, but until she knew what he would eat, it was the best she could do.

“Sorry, couldn’t find a notebook…” she said as she returned to the bedroom. William had sat up, and was frowning down at himself disapprovingly. “What’s up?”

“Oh nothing, it’s just, well, I’m not very dressed.”

“What?”

He motioned to the t-shirt and shorts that he had been wearing for the past two days. “This is hardly appropriate attire.”

Buffy opened her mouth to tell him not to worry about it, it wasn’t anything she hadn’t seen before, but decided it wouldn’t do to embarrass the poor man. “I’ll look into getting you some more…um, appropriate attire. Anyway, I brought you some food.”

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do that.”

Buffy laughed, “Yeah, I kinda did. Otherwise you’ll starve.”

He smiled shyly and accepted the tray from her. Their hands touched briefly, and William responded with a slight blush. “You’re very kind.”

Buffy dismissed the compliment with a wave of her hand. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

“No, no, not at all.”

“Feeling better now?” Buffy asked, concerned. He looked and sounded slightly better, but only slightly.

“No,” he answered, surprising both of them with his honesty.

“Oh…anything I can do?” Let me help, let me make this better, let me rectify the situation, god, let me do something!

“No, no. I’m just going to write.”

“Oh, a poem?”

William looked up, startled and Buffy could almost seem him retreat into a shell. “How did you know about my poems?” He asked carefully.

Damn. She should have known better than to ask. Spike was hardly forthcoming with his poetic past, she had no reason to believe that William would want to share.

“Does it have anything to do with this Spike gentleman everybody keeps mentioning?” William asked before she had time to answer. It was her turn to retreat.

She swallowed hard; too shocked to even be amused that “gentleman” and “Spike” were used in conjunction. “Yes, it does.”

“Who is he?” Honest curiosity in his voice.

“William, I know this is a crazy question, but do you trust me?”

His brow furrowed. “Yes,” he answered earnestly, for a just a second, he reminded Buffy of an eager puppy.

“Does the bite on your neck hurt?”

William put a tentative hand up to the bandage. “I hadn’t even thought about it. But yes, it hurts slightly.”

“William, you’re here because somebody used very powerful magic to pull you forward in time. If you hadn’t been pulled forward, you would have been turned into a vampire.” She carefully avoided mentioning her own involvement in the mess.

“A vampire named Spike?” William asked, breathlessly.

Buffy nodded.

“But vampires aren’t…”

Buffy laughed, “Real? Of course they are. You’ve met one. Big guy, with hear that stick straight up.”

 

William frowned, “He scared me.”  He looked up at Buffy, confusion shining clearly in his eyes. “This is all so hard to take in.”

“You seem to be handling things well.”

“I feel a bit mad, actually. I thought I would write all of this, everything, down.”

“That might be a good idea. It’ll keep you occupied for awhile at least.”

“This Spike…where is he?”

 

“He died last year.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Buffy stood up suddenly, startling William. “I’m sorry, I just can’t…” She didn’t finish her sentence, just hurried out of the room.

William couldn’t help but be hurt over her hasty departure. What had he said wrong? It was so hard to talk to women. The words never would come out right, and he always managed to make a fool out of himself. He tried to express himself to them in poems, but that never turned out well either. The bother was, he never could find the perfect word. It was always beyond his grasp.

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