"Well, here you are ladies," Bernie said, as he stopped in front of their hotel.

It was 3:30am, and they’d been to every homeless shelter in Chicago it had seemed in the past 12 hours, not to mention going into some very unsavory parts of town to talk to some people on the street, as well as a couple of dozen seedy bars.

Nobody had seen or heard of anyone named Spike or William lately who fit the description. Buffy left the number of her red phone, in case somebody spotted him. After some debate with Dawn, she also offered a $5000 reward, knowing that she could also possibly get phony calls just trying to get the money.

"Thank you," Buffy said, "let me pay you something else, we wouldn’t have gotten to nearly as many places, if it hadn’t been for you, Bernie."

"That’s all right," he said, "you keep the money. You may need it."

"Thank you, again," Buffy said.

"I have to work tomorrow, but if you want, I can come by in the cab, only thing is that I’ll have to charge what the cab company charges," he said.

"That’s okay, I’d rather be riding with you than someone else," Buffy said.

"So, the north side tomorrow?" Buffy asked.

"Sounds good," Bernie said, "what time should I pick you up?"

"About 9:30am?"

"See you ladies then," he said.

"Good night, Bernie," Dawn said.

"Good night, ladies."

Buffy collapsed on the bed, with her clothes on.

"What are we missing?" she asked, "seems like we’re missing something!"

"I know what you mean," Dawn said, "but I don’t know either.

Over the next four days they checked with what seemed like, every homeless shelter, every homeless person, and every bar in the city and still, there wasn’t one person who had seen him. They even checked over a dozen hospitals, and even more, small clinics, all without luck.

"Willow said he was here," Buffy said, disheartened.

"He probably is then, Buffy, but he could be anywhere! He could have gone home with someone," Dawn stopped seeing Buffy’s horrified expression, "what I mean, is that somebody could have rented him a room or something. If he had money. Don’t suppose the prophecy sends you back with an American Express card or anything," she said.

"No, more likely naked and lost," Buffy said, "but maybe you’re right. Maybe someone took him home, I mean, he can be pretty charming, and he is good looking...maybe he's, I don’t know, with someone," Buffy said.

"Are you crazy?" Dawn said, "you know you’d be the first person he would want to see," she said.

"Yeah, maybe, but he has no way of getting a hold of me if he does. I’ve changed my name, Sunnydale doesn’t exist anymore, nobody has the same phone number or address. I don’t even have the same cell phone number that I used to. What if he’s tried, Dawn? What if he’s tried to and he can’t?" Buffy said, rubbing her hand through her hair.

Dawn shook her head, "I don’t know. I just feel like if he wanted to or could, he wouldn’t give up, you know how Spike is Buffy!" she said.

"I know how he was, Dawn, I don’t have any idea of how Spike is now," she said, sadly.

"You don’t think he’d try to get in touch with Angel, do you? In order to find you or to ask for help?" Dawn asked, all of a sudden.

"God, I hope not!" Buffy replied, "but I don’t really know. Maybe, if he tried everything else first," she shrugged.

The next day, late morning, Bernie collected Buffy, Dawn, and their luggage, for the one more tour through the seedier side of the city in search of Spike, on their way to their 8:00pm flight back to L.A.

Finally, late that evening, he turned the cab toward O’Hare, "I’m sorry you gals didn’t find who you were looking for. I still think you ought to try the police," he said.

"No. I don’t want them involved," Buffy said, quickly.

"I understand, really I do. But the fact is they may already be involved," Bernie said, "they may have your guy locked up or something, plus if you give them his picture, you’d have thousands of eyes all over the city to help look for him."

Buffy sighed, "I know you’re right, but I just can’t take that chance. They might spook him, or they might hurt him by accident," she said.

"Yeah, but they could also help him, tell him you’re looking for him," he shrugged, "your choice, Buffy," he said, calling her by her name for the first time.

"I just don’t know what I’d tell them. It’s complicated." she said.

Buffy thought, "Oh yeah, I’ll just tell the police that a former 100+ year old vampire, now recently human, appears to be lost in their city…sure that would get them looking real hard!"

"Well, why don’t I take his picture and let some of my cabby buddies see it, that way, they can at least be on the lookout for him?"

"That would be really good, thank you," she said.

"Well, here you are. Now call me next time you’re in Chicago, and I know you will be!" Bernie said.

"We will," Dawn said.

Buffy was mostly silent on the flight home. She couldn’t believe that after five days they didn’t have a clue as to Spike’s where a bouts.

"What am I missing?" she asked herself for the thousandth time.

Leroy walked into the nurse’s lounge at the start of his shift. As he was walking over to his locker, a picture on the bulletin board caught his eye, thinking it was a picture from someone’s vacation, he walked over to take a look. It was a copy of a drawing of a man standing in what appeared to be the Eiffel tower. For some reason the man looked vaguely familiar. Then he read the words underneath. "Missing! 5’10" 165-170lbs. Blonde or Brown hair, curly, or gelled back. Prominent cheekbones, blue eyes. Goes by either Spike or William."

"William? William?" Leroy took down at the name and number under the picture, "William!" and picked up the phone.

He wrote down the number that was at the bottom of the page, promising himself he would call it after his shift ended.

Buffy arrived back home about 11:00pm California time, but it felt like the middle of the night to her. Back in her slayer days, that term didn’t mean much, now with her, so called, "normal life," it meant that staying up all night, every night was hard on her.

She picked up the phone and called Willow, before going to bed.

"Hello?"

"Willow? It’s Buffy."

"What happened? Did you find him?"

"No. Not a trace. When Dawn and I first got there we went over to The Field Museum, to talk to Donald Johanson, but he was on vacation. They were putting in new security cameras and I happened to ask the desk person why and she tells me that there was a naked guy who was chased out of there a while back. Guess what day it was?"

"When?" Willow asked.

"May 20^th, exactly 5 years to the date that…he died. I was so sure that must have been Spike! I’m still sure. Well, almost. Dawn and I spent the next 5 days looking through every homeless shelter, talked to homeless people, went to hospitals, clinics, bars, and every type of place we thought Spike might have gone to. Not one person even thought he looked familiar. It was a total dead end."

"I’m so sorry, Buffy. I should’ve come with, we could have covered more territory, or maybe I could’ve read him through you, up close and personal,"Willow said.

"No, I doubt you would have been able to help us. We met this cabby last time we were there and he drove us around the whole 5 days, so we made good time for such a large city, just…"

"Couldn’t find him?" Willow filled in.

"Yeah," Buffy said, "well, I just wanted you to know we were back and what happened. I gotta think what I’m going to do next, thinking maybe I’ll rent a place there for the summer, maybe. Go out every night looking? I don’t know what else to do, but I can’t afford to stay at a hotel for weeks on end, but I gotta go back."

They finished up their conversation, with Willow promising to come and help if Buffy rented a place in Chicago.

Buffy finally got to bed around 2:00am. She had only been asleep for about 1 hour, when the phone rang.

"Hello?" she answered groggily. There was nobody there, and a phone was still ringing.

"What the hell?" she said, then realizing the red phone was still in her purse, she stumbled into the living room and grabbed it from her purse.

"Hello?"

"Buffy? This is Andrew. I think I’ve found Spike."

May 25, 2008

"Well, that's about it," Dr. Forrest said, signing the bottom of the chart and handing his patient over to the psych department extern for evaluation.

"We popped his shoulder back in place, the bullet was removed from his thigh, and he'll still have to wear the sling for his fractured elbow for a couple of weeks, but otherwise, I think he'd be better served upstairs," Dr. Forrest said.

"Heard about this fellow. Found naked at the museum, eh? Thinks it's 1880, too?"

"Yeah, everything is freaking him out, doesn't act like he's ever seen anything we have here, not a TV, not an intercom, not the buttons on the bed that make them go up and down, not anything. He's definitely one of yours!"

"Dr. Turner is looking forward to looking at this fellow," said the extern.

"Well, tell him to call me if he has any questions and good luck!"

"William," Dr. Forrest said, coming back in to his patient's bedside, "you're being moved over to psych for evaluation now, they'll take good care of you!"

"I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy!" William said, as he'd begun to yesterday.

"Nobody said you were, William, you're just confused. Come on now, be a good boy, going for a ride in the nice wheelchair," said the extern, as he helped the man out of the bed and into the chair.

Dr. Forrest shook his head as he walked back over to the nurses station and finished filling out his paperwork.

June 8, 2003

William stood at his barred window, looking out at the grassy behind the hospital. He had never been in such a tall building before. They told him he was on the 10th floor, or about 120 feet up. It was almost time for his appointment with Dr. Turner. He had been meeting with him everyday, and actually looked a bit forward to it, if only to break up the monotony.

Every day he was allowed out of his room to go to recreational therapy, where he could work with clay, do little crafts, or play a game of what was called pool, and to socialize with the other patients, but he kept mostly to themselves. A few of them had tried to befriend him, but besides whatever ailed them mentally, making it difficult, their frames of reference were always so different from his, that after a couple of minutes, even the craziest ones, looked at him like he was from another planet and wandered off.

Even when he was where (he thought) he remembered of being, 'back home,' he'd always felt the odd one, out of place, but to be in a mental institution, and be the oddest of the odd...he didn't understand. What was wrong with him?

When he'd first gone to see Dr. Turner, he didn't say anything, but after the third day, he started opening up about what he remembered of his life. Dr. Turner didn't seem to judge him or think him crazy. Plus, he had read some of the same books that William had read and he enjoyed discussing them with him. On the fourth day, he gave William a book of poetry that William had read through completely that same night. Dr. Turner had asked him the next day which he liked best and asked him why. They discussed the various poems and the styles of the writers. That day he gave William a blank notebook and told him to write his thougths down, or poems, stories, whatever he would like. William took the book back with him to his room and began a diary.

I'm afraid that I'm very ill and that somewhere I have a family that is worried about me, or worse, that I have no family. Nobody to tell me if my memories are totallly false, nobody to..." he put down the book, unable to go on.

The next day, at Dr. Turner's request, he shared the book with him.

Dr.Turner had decided that it would be a good idea to start working with William's delusions.

"You know, William," he began, after reading his entry, "sometimes a person is so traumatized by something that has happened in his life, that he recedes into his mind, to a place that's easier to live in."

"You think that's what's happened to me? That I've been so traumatized that I now think I'm living in 1880 instead of 2008?" William asked.

"I don't know," Dr. Turner said, gently to his patient, "but somehow you're lost in time, you don't remember anything that's happened to you in the past 28 years. Well, at least what should have been from 1980 to the present, for you to be 28 now."

"You tell me you were born in 1852, but like you said in your journal, that would make you 156 years old, and really, William," he said smiling, "you don't much look a day over 26, 27, tops, to me!"

William put his head in his hands, as he bent over in the chair, "I don't remember," he said, plaintively, in a voice that hurt the young doctor to hear.

"Look, William," he said, as he came over to his side and put his hand on his shoulder, "the mind is a funny thing. Sometimes, things that to others are not so traumatic, get blown up inside our minds to some gigantic monster that runs off with our sanity, when really, most the time, they're only little montsters."

"Like the T-Rex, versus the icthyosaur?" William asked.

"Yes, that's a good analogy, William," he said, smiling at his patients use of what he had just supposedly learned of the dinosaur inside the museum, thought he supposed, that trapped inside his mind was all sorts of knowledge about many things, both new and old.

"Well, you keep writing. Maybe you'll remember something as you go along, and we'll talk again tomorrow," Dr. Turner said.

"What? What?" Buffy said, into the phone, "where, how?"

"Listen Buffy, go on the Internet, I just sent you what I found," Andrew said, "I just got this from a colleague in Chicago who faxed it to me."

"Hold on," she said, getting her laptop booted up.

"Just download the attachment, and you'll see it," Andrew said.

Buffy logged on and opened the letter and attachment.

CHICAGO SUN TIMES MAY 22, 2008

Under news of the weird on page 54 she read:

This past Friday night, police and ambulances were called to The Field Museum in Chicago when a guard shot a naked man who was trying to flee. The guard, who requested his name not be used, said, "I saw this crazy looking, naked guy standing and staring at the dinosaur when I came down from the second floor on my rounds. I yelled and asked him to stop and he took off running. I warned him to stop, but he didn’t."

Buffy’s heart was pounding with fear now. Shot? He’d been shot?

"Andrew, is it Spike? Is he okay? It doesn’t say…oh my God!" she said, her voice going high.

"Buffy, there’s another article, it might be related, open it up, too," Andrew said.

CHICAGO SUN TIMES MAY 30, 2008

The man shot while naked at The Field Museum on May 22nd, is off the hook with the museum, which decided not to press charges, due to the nature of his condition. Nothing was stolen or broken, but it is still not known what he was doing there or how he got inside.

The man, whose name is not being released, is said to be suffering from an unusual form of psychosis, where he believes he is living in another era, while remembering nothing about the present day. He is being held at The University of Chicago Hospitals Psychiatric Ward, pending a hearing on his status. Specifics about him are being withheld, pending family notification.

If anybody has any information about him, please call 312-555-1389.

There was a small picture accompanying the story. Buffy stared at it for a couple of minutes, as her eyes misted over. It was hard to make out, yet there was no mistaking the blue eyes that looked hauntingly out at her. It reminded her of the way she’d seen him look in the school basement, the summer after he’d been gone.

"Buffy, are you there?" Andrew asked after a few minutes.

"It’s him, Andrew," Buffy said, "and I was just there 3 days ago, they told me they didn't have him there," she said.

"What department did you ask at?" he asked.

"Emergency room," she answered.

"Well, maybe you talked to the wrong person, or maybe they didn't check all the hospital records."

"Or maybe he's not there now!" Buffy said.

"No, I think he’ll still be there. Usually psych patients stay put for a while," he said.

"What else can I do for you Buffy?" Andrew asked, "just name it. Want me to come with you?"

"I...I don't know right now, I can't thank you enough. I just got back from Chicago last night. I was there with Dawn for 5 days and we didn't get this far. Remind me to kiss you next time I see you," Buffy said.

"As long as you don't grope me like last time, I'll think about it," he said, with a little laugh.

"It's a deal. I'll be in touch. Thanks Andrew. I think I love you!" Buffy said.

"You're welcome. I think I love you, too. And Spike," Andrew said.

Buffy smiled as she hung up the phone. Yeah, she always knew Andrew thought Spike was hot!

Her smile quickly faded as she tried to think what she would tell the hospital.

Just then the phone rang again.

"Hello?"

"Is this Elizabeth Worthington?" a man's voice asked.

"Yes, who's this?"

"My name is Leroy Roberts," he said.

"Yes?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm an emergency room nurse at The University of Chicago. I just saw your notice about the man you're looking for yesterday on the board in the nurse's lounge. William is here, Mrs Worthington. He was my patient on the 20th of May," he said, "You his wife? Sister?"

Buffy paused, knowing that what she said, might influence how and when she could see him and lots of other things as well, "I'm...I'm his wife. You saw him? How was he?" she asked, scared to hear the answer.

"Well, when he came in, he was pretty messed up, he'd been shot by the trigger happy guard at the museum, and he had a dislocated shoulder and a fractured elbow. He also, well, this is something I'm not supposed to tell you, in fact, I'm really breaking all sorts of rules by calling you at all," he said.

"Oh, please, Mr. Roberts, you have to tell me, I've been waiting so long to hear what's happened to him. I was just in Chicago for 5 days looking for him and nobody seemed to have seen him, including your hospital, which I now know he's a," Buffy said.

"Well, alright, but only if you call me Leroy," he said.

"Please, Leroy," Buffy pleaded.

"Well, William was really out of it, he claimed it was 1880, that Rutherford B. Hayes was the president and that Victoria was Queen. He acted like he'd never heard of a phone or a computer, or anything. Thought he was in London," Leroy said.

Buffy didn't say anything.

"Miss? Miss?" Leroy said.

"I'm here," she said softly.

"I just wanted to tell you, that he's up on the 10th floor in psych now. His doctor is Dr. Turner, and from what I've seen of his records, he's doing alright. In fact, tonight when I had to deliver someone up to psych, I took a look in at him. He seemed alright, was sitting on a chair in his room reading a book," he said, "but listen. You can't, and that's CAN'T tell them I called you to let you know, or I could lose my job, hear?" Leroy said.

"I won't. And thank you," Buffy said, "you have no idea how much this means to me, and for you to have seen him, actually seen him tonight, oh my God!" she said, her voice near to cracking.

"I just thought you might like to know. I know how it is to have a member of the family go missing," he said.

"I'll be back in Chicago tomorrow, Leroy, will you be around?" she asked, "I’d like to buy you dinner or something."

"Ah, that's not necessary, but come talk to me tomorrow. I'll be working afternoons in the ER, just ask for Leroy."

"I will, and thanks," she said.

She hung up the phone and jumped up, allowing herself a little happy ‘Snoopy Dance’ while shouting, "Spike, Spike, oh my God, Spike! Buffy then calmed down enough to quickly get dressed, and to make a reservation for Chicago the following morning. The soonest she could get a flight out was at 11:30am, which meant she wouldn’t get there until the end of the day, which was killing her.

She stopped suddenly realizing one very important thing that had been relayed, yet hadn’t yet sunken in. The man she was going to see, in all likely-hood, wasn’t Spike, as he had been. Leroy had said that he called himself William and that he thought he was living in 1880. That was the year he was ‘turned,’ but what if it wasn’t her ‘William,’ just some nutcase that shared his first name and had a fascination about the 1800’s? No, it had to be him. Him, but not Spike. William. William, as he was in 1880?

Buffy plopped down on the couch. He wouldn’t even know her. Tears sprang to her eyes. Maybe it was her punishment for never having appreciated him when he was Spike.

"Stop it, Buffy!" she scolded herself, "this isn’t about you. It’s about Spike, or William. He still needs you and he could be in danger."

"I told you I’d be there for you, no matter what, Spike, and I will be," she said, to herself, wiping her eyes.

At 6:00am her time she was on the phone with Chicago.

She was going to call Dr. Turner directly, but then the paper hadn’t mentioned his name, only Leroy had.

She dialed the number the ad in the paper said, after first thinking over the past couple of hours of how she would answer their questions as to why ‘William’ was in Chicago, how he got there, how long he’d been gone for, etc.

"Hello?"

"Um, hello, I’m calling regarding an article that was in the Chicago Sun Times on May 30, 2008, about a John Doe that you have there. I believe that is my husband," Buffy said, hoping her voice didn’t betray her.

"Hold on please, while I connect you to the right party," said the hospital operator, after a slight pause.

"Good morning, this is Dr. Turner, can I help you?"

"My name is Elizabeth Worthington, I believe have my husband William, there for evaluation. I…I saw an article in the Sun Times, and I believe that he’s the one that was brought to you after an incident at The Field Museum," Buffy said, heart pounding.

"William is your husband?" he asked excitedly. He’d had hoped William had a family somewhere, "then that’s really his name, too! I really wasn’t sure!"

"Yes," Buffy said, relieved, thinking that he sounded nice.

"What can you tell me about William so that I’ll know that I’m actually talking to someone who knows him?" Dr. Turner asked.

"Uh, you mean physically?"

"Yes, that and mentally would be greatly helpful," Dr. Turner said.

"Crap!" Buffy thought, what did she know about his mental state? But she did know a little about his family, she hoped he mentioned that. But she’d have to be careful. She couldn’t just say, "Why yes, they did live in the late 1800’s!"

"Well, physically, I guess the most noticeable things about Sp., William," she quickly corrected, "would be his blue eyes. They’re very blue and intense," she said.

"And he has these cheekbones that I think lots of Hollywood wanna-bees would die for. He also has a scar over his left eyebrow that goes in a couple of different directions," Buffy said. "What else?"

"Well, that’s your husband, alright, Mrs. Worthington," Dr. Turner said, having listened to him described to a T.

"Why don’t you tell me how long you’ve been married," Dr. turner said.

Quickly Buffy thought of a date.

"Five years, this past May."

"I see," Dr. Turner said, "and what about any other family?"

"Well, he had a brother Henry, and a mother, Anne, back in London, but they were both dead by the time I met William," Buffy said, relieved that at least that was an easy truth to tell.

"Did William ever discuss under what circumstances his family died?" asked Dr. Turner.

"Um, I believe that his mother died of …cancer, I’m pretty sure. His brother Henry, he was involved in some sort of auto accident years ago. Before William was a grown man, I believe," Buffy said, hoping she sounded very convincing.

"I have to be honest with you, Mrs. Worthington…"

Buffy cut him off, "Elizabeth," she said.

"Elizabeth, then. William only talks about his family from London. He has never talked about a wife or…do you have children together?"

For some reason this question hit her the hardest, "No, no children," she said. As if.

"I’m flying in today. I can see him, can’t I?" Buffy asked.

"Certainly. Just because he doesn’t appear to remember being married, doesn’t mean that once he sees you, it won’t jog his memory, but you should know another thing, too," Dr. Turner said, "he doesn’t even know what century this is. I mean, he’s been told, but part or his entire mind appears to be living around 1880. I’ve checked some of his references and they’re quite accurate. Even borrowed a couple of things from a friend who owns an antique store and William correctly named them and their uses."

"Well, he was a history major at Oxford. That time period was his specialty," Buffy said.

"I see," Dr. Turner answered. William had told him of his days at Oxford, but he’d related that he’d been an English major, not history. Still…

"You say you’ll be in town later today?" he asked Buffy.

"Yes, I’ll be there by around 6:30pm," she said.

"Oh, I see. I’ll be gone by then, and I wanted to talk to you first before you saw William, and also, the visiting hours will be over for the patients in Psych by that time. The latest visitors are allowed on the floors is 5:00pm," Dr. Turner said.

"Oh, please, please," Buffy pleaded, "I’ve been waiting so very long to see William again, I don’t think I can stand another day!"

"I am so sorry, Elizabeth, I really appreciate how you feel, but my hands are tied. I’d stay late to meet with you, but I’ve got to get home for a family function tonight. My son’s birthday, wife will kill me if I’m late," he apologized, "perhaps you could just come in tomorrow?" he suggested.

"No! I’ll find a way to get there earlier. You’re there until 5:00pm? I’m going to try to get an earlier flight. I’ll be there!" Buffy said.

"Alright, Elizabeth, I do believe that I’ll see you sometime this afternoon, then. By the way," he asked, "where are you coming from?"

"California."

"Oh, I see, and the time difference…Well, good luck, just tell the front desk to let me know the minute you arrive," Dr. Turner said.

"I will, I will!" Buffy said.

She hung up, and immediately called back the airlines. Finally, she got a much earlier flight out of the Orange County airport. She had only one and a half-hours to get there. Her 8:00am flight should get her into Midway Airport by 2:00pm, that should get her to the hospital before 3:00pm. She jumped into her car and took off.

June 11, 2008

William came into Dr. Turner's office at 1:00pm, his usual time, to find him talking agitatedly on the phone with someone by the name of Dr. Ogleby.

"You're very wrong to do this, to my patient and to me at this point. Very wrong!" he said, as he motioned William to have a seat.

"No, you don't understand," he said, his voice low, "I've gotten close to a breakthrough with this patient and you're jeopardizing it, and him, right now!"

"Yes, I understand. You've made your mind up, and I'm to fall in line!" Dr. Turner said, hanging up the phone with a rather loud click.

William startled, looking at Dr. Turner.

"I'm sorry, William. Nevermind that. How are you? How's the reading going? Have you been writing?" Dr. Turner asked.

"Yes, I read some of the Shakespeare book you leant me last night. And I did some more writing," William said.

"May I see?" asked Dr. Turner.

William handed him the diary.

Dr. Turner read the entries and looked up at William, who was looking down at his hands, as if they were a great mystery.

"William, I'm older than I look, I'm almost 46 and I’ve been practicing for nearly 20 years. I've seen a lot of patients with lots of different conditions, but I always think that I can pretty much tell the ones who have a horrible secret that they're hiding from themselves, to those who aren't. You strike me as someone in the latter category. Now I don't know why your mind has done what it's done to itself, but I can tell you this. In my opinion, professional and otherwise, you seem to be a good man, William," Dr. Turner said, smiling at him.

William looked up at him, gratefully.

"William, I have a couple of things to tell you. Both of them are going to have to take some getting used to. The first thing I'll tell you is some very good news. You have a visitor coming this afternoon. Someone who says they know you!"

William looked up, surprised. It must be his mother or brother, or one of his friends, coming to bring him home, he thought.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"Elizabeth," Dr. Turner said, looking to gage William’s reaction, "do you know that name?"

William shook his head, "No, I don't remember any Elizabeth. I mean, I knew a little girl with that name back in primary school, but I haven't seen her in…since I was about 8 years old," he looked at Dr. Turner.

"Who does she say she is? To me?" William asked.

Dr. Turner looked at him. If he’d had more time, he would have wanted to proceed much slower with this new development, but he didn’t.

"Her name," he said slowly, "is Elizabeth Worthington."

"That’s my last name!" William said, "I don’t have a sister. Maybe she’s a distant cousin?" he said, questioningly.

Dr. Turner shook his head.

"Then what? Why would she…?" William looked at Dr. Turner with big eyes, and stood up suddenly.

"No, it can’t be! I can’t…Wouldn’t I remember this? Remember a wife? OH GOD!" William said, pacing around the room.

"William!" Dr. Turner said, raising his voice just a little, "I didn’t want to let you know this way, but I had to. Listen to me, there’s something else I need to tell you and it’s important.

William stopped, looking over at the doctor, "What?"

"William, today is the last day that I’ll be treating you. There’s a new doctor that the head of the hospital thinks would serve you better. His name is Dr. Dimitri O. Polydefkis. He’s supposed to be the best. He’ll be taking over for me tomorrow," Dr. Turner said.

"But I don’t want him as my doctor! I want you. I trust you!" William shouted, agitated and upset.

"I know, I know you do, William, but this is the cards we’ve been dealt, and we’re just going to have to accept them."

"No! I’ll tell them I don’t want this other doctor!" William said.

"You don’t have a choice," Dr. Turner said, gently, "you were involuntarily committed to the hospital. You didn’t have anybody to decide these things on your behalf. And I don’t have a say in this either. I tried. That’s what I was arguing about when you walked in today."

William plopped down in the chair, deflated, "Why? Why is this happening to me?" he asked anguished.

"Look, you’ll have a lot more options as soon as you’re on a step-down unit. That’s what I was going to tell you, also. As the last act as your doctor, I’m recommending that you go down over to 10 South. You’ll be able to leave your room whenever you wish, be able to go to the lounge, the library, the TV room, wherever you wish," Dr. Turner said, "wear clothes."

William shrugged; none of these places held any appeal for him anyway, although clothes would be nice. And besides, to think of getting out of hospital altogether, was to admit that he had no place in the world at all. None that he could think of, anyway.

Dr. Turner felt an overwhelming sympathy for William.

"I’ll still be your doctor for the rest of today. Why don’t we see how you feel after you’ve met Elizabeth, later this afternoon?"

"Will you…?"

"Will I what, William?"

"Will you still…come to see me?"

Dr. Turner hesitated for a moment, "Yes, I can do that," he said, knowing that the higher-ups wouldn’t like it, but having made up his mind, "if you’d like me to."

William just nodded. His life or lack thereof, for the past 2 weeks, had at least had a rhythm to it, now it was about to be thrown up in the air.

He went back to his room and lay down on his bed, his head spinning.

Who was she, this Elizabeth? What would she be like? Look like? This stranger that he didn’t know.

June 11, 2008

2:50pm

She’d called Bernie on the Airfone as soon as she boarded, and made arrangements for him to pick her up. She also called Dawn to tell her she had found Spike and that she would call her later. She told Dawn to call Willow and let her know.

For the rest of the trip she fidgeted in her seat, not able to calm her mind to think of anything rational. She knew she needed to think of the next step, getting Spike out of the hospital, etc. But all she could think of again and again, looping over and over in her mind, was that she was going to see Spike.

"I’m going to see Spike!"

"I’m going to SEE Spike!"

"I’m GOING to see Spike!"

"I’M going to see Spike!"

"I’m going to see SPIKE!"

"I’M GOING TO SEE SPIKE!"

Buffy had just grabbed an overnight case and thrown in Spike’s T-shirt and jeans and a few tops for herself and that was it.

As soon as the plane landed, she had to make herself stay seated until they allowed everyone to get up. She wanted to push everyone the hell out of the way and get out of there.

Bernie was waiting by the curb as she ran out the door.

"Hey, you’re back, just like I said!" he told her.

"Yeah, I wouldn’t have left if the stupid hospital knew who they had there in the first place!" she said.

"Well, we’ll be there in a few," he said, then added, "you get any sleep? You don’t look so hot."

She looked at herself in the mirror. He was right, she looked like hell and she was going to be seeing Spike!

"Damnit," she vainly thought, trying to brush her hair and put on some lipstick.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean you don’t look nice, just tired," Bernie said.

"I know how I look!" she said, rolling her eyes, "it’s just that I’d only been asleep about an hour or two, when a friend called with the information about…my friend, then another person called from the hospital, with the same information. Wish they’d called me the other day," she said.

"You mean, yesterday," he corrected, "you were gone less than a day."

"Thanks for reminding me!" she said, smiling.

"Well, here we are," Bernie said, twenty five minutes later, "University of Chicago Hospitals. You want me to wait for you?"

"I don’t know how long I’ll be. I don’t think I’m going to be leaving right away, not if I can stay. I’ll just call you if I need a ride later, okay?" Buffy said.

"Good luck," he said, and helped her out with her bag.

"Thanks, Bernie."

Buffy walked into the hospital and asked for Dr. Turner’s office.

As Buffy walked off the elevator, her heart almost stopped, when she saw one of the patients standing near the window. His hair was brown and curly, his face angular. For a moment, she almost thought it was Spike, but it wasn’t.

Dr. Turner opened the door to the small woman, who looked like she hadn’t slept in a long time.

"I’m Elizabeth Worthington…William’s wife," she said, putting out her hand to the young looking doctor.

"You made it," he said, smiling, as he shook hers.

"I wasn’t going to not get here in time today!"

She came across in person as she had on the phone, capable and strong. A far cry from the way William appeared, and probably, this dynamo could help him better than anybody else could.

They talked for a while about some stuff that hadn’t been covered earlier.

"He knows of you, Elizabeth. I told him earlier, because I knew you’d be arriving today."

"He knows? What…what did he say?" she asked, both wanting and not wanting to hear the answer.

"He doesn’t remember you. I’m sorry. But he’s alright. He’s coping. I think maybe once he sees you, perhaps, maybe he will," Dr. Turner said, hopefully.

He got up and motioned for Buffy to follow him.

It was the moment of truth. Buffy stood up and sat back down, almost passing out.

"Are you alright, Elizabeth?" Dr. Turner, asked, concerned at seeing her pale face.

"I’m, I just got a little dizzy. I just got home from Chicago last night and had only been to sleep for an hour or so, when I found out that he was here…"

"And you came right back?"

She nodded.

He liked this persistent young woman.

"How long did you say it’s been since you’ve seen him?"

"Three years," she lied. She’d told Dr. Turner that William had been involved in an accident and that he’d lost his memory, and before she could get him into a treatment program, he’d wandered off and she hadn’t seen him since.

"Well, then, Elizabeth, I imagine you don’t want to waste another minute talking to me."

He held onto her arm gently, as he steered her down the hall, past two locked double doors and to room 1005.

"I’ll be right back," he told Buffy, "I’m just going to let William know that he’s got company," he said and walked into the room.

Buffy flattened herself against the wall, trembling, heart pounding.

"Hello Twilight’s Zone. Beyond this door…" she said to herself.

Beyond this door, what? Lay what used to be her heart? What was he now?

"William," Dr. Turner said, as he walked into the room, "your visitor is here. Remember I told you? Her name is Elizabeth. She’s very nice, very pretty, too. And William, she’s also very scared to see you."

"She is? Why?" William asked, perplexed.

"Well, she says she hasn’t seen you for a very long time, She’s probably scared that you won’t recognize her, or that even if you do, that maybe you won’t know her anymore, or won’t feel the same way. You know. Women stuff," Dr. Turner said, hoping to appeal to the part of William that was back in the 19^th century, in his way of thinking, but he amended it, "human stuff."

William didn’t know woman stuff or human stuff. He didn’t even remember ever being in a relationship with anyone before. He’d never even had a real date, yet alone…a wife!

Dr. Turner smiled and nodded to William as he walked out. William sat on the bed, then he stood up, he sat back down, got up and walked to the window, sat back down, then, finally, when he was about to stand up again, the door opened.

Buffy stood there and looked at him. There was no mistake. It was Spike. She’d know his face and his eyes anywhere. Know the shape of his lips, his body, even in awful hospital pajamas.

They stared at each other.

Buffy was shaking so badly, she couldn’t say anything. She started to take a step forward, but things started going black, the ground was rising up to meet her.

All of a sudden, strong arms (well, one strong arm, and one still healing) had her, before she hit. She felt herself being helped over to the bed, "Are you alright? Come and sit down," she heard a proper English accent say to her.

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry," she mumbled, "I just…didn’t get much sleep last night…when I found out…about you…being here," Buffy said, shakily, as she looked up at him. She was looking at his face, as his was searching hers. His arm, warm and secure, was still around her waist, from when he’d helped her, to sit down on the bed.

Her mouth opened, like a fish, she was sure, as she took in the beautiful visage.

"Spike," she whispered, then amended it, "William."

"May I?" she asked him, tentatively, as she held out her hand towards him.

He numbly nodded.

Taking a bit of liberty, she slowly put her hand on his face, tracing his cheek.

William was stunned by the events that had just occurred. He couldn’t think. The feeling of her hand on his face was so comforting. It not only evaporated any coherent thought, but his fear and anxiety over their meeting, as well.

He continued to stare at her, as she at him, as his eyes involuntarily closed for a moment, as he rested his cheek in her small hand.

"William? Spike? It’s me, Buffy. That’s what you used to call me. Do you know me?" she pleaded, sensing something of ‘him’ in his response to her touch.

He shook his head, upset; that he didn’t, upset that he was enjoying an intimate touch from someone he didn’t remember knowing.

"It’s okay, William," Buffy said, quickly, trying not to upset him further, "you don’t remember me, but I remember you," she said, nodding as he looked at her.

He took his hand from around her waist, and she removed her hand from his warm face. Both felt the loss of sensation immediately, her for the past five long years, him from a lifetime of loneliness.

"How? When? Who am I?" he asked, looking into her eyes.

She looked at him. How would she ever answer him? One thing was for sure; there was no way she was going to be able to answer much for him right now.

"It’s…it’s complicated. I…" Buffy faltered.

"My mother? My brother? Do you know of them?" he asked hopefully of her, his lifeline to some sort of reality.

"She reached out once more, taking his warm and yielding hand in between hers, "I’m sorry, Will, they’ve been gone a very long time. Even before I knew you," she said, her eyes tearing up in response to his.

"Gone? Gone?" he said to himself, but looking toward her.

Buffy nodded, "I’m sorry."

"Elizabeth," he said, the name slowly coming off of his lips.

She nodded again.

"You are my…?" he looked at her questioningly.

She was so pretty. She was the kind of girl whom he would never have had the nerve to talk to, certainly, the kind of girl who would never have given him the time of day. And yet, there she was, holding his hand between hers, looking at him with…? He didn’t know what it was; he’d never seen that sort of look directed at him before.

Buffy felt guilty, starting out with a lie between them, when he didn’t have any say in the matter. Did it make a difference? If it was for his own good? She didn’t know, only that his coming back to ‘life’ like this would bring more pain to him, no matter what. But she didn’t want to be a cause of it, not if she didn’t have to.

She looked around the room for anything that could be construed as a hidden camera or microphone. She wasn’t sure.

"William? Can we stand up?"

He nodded. She stood and walked over toward the corner of the room, near the window and left a space for him between her and the window.

"William," she said taking his hands again, "I need to tell you some things, but I..." she stopped and looked at his face, trying to read him. He looked curious, but thankfully, not afraid.

"What is it?" he asked, his head tilted as he looked at her.

She slowly came towards him and he shifted uncomfortably, but she still held onto his hands.

"I want to answer some of your questions, William, but I need to be able to tell you things that nobody else can hear," Buffy said.

"There’s nobody here but us," William said, curious at her statement

"Please. Trust me William, I need you to do that," Buffy pleaded, "will you?"

He didn't know why, but he nodded his head.

"Can you please hug me, so that I can...?" she blushed, looking down, "whisper what I need to say in your ear?"

He looked at her, and saw her trembling. His heart went out to her. He may not know her, but..." he didn't think anymore, just took his hands out of hers, and gently slid them up her arms, as she stepped forward toward him. Her arms went around his back, as she came into his arms.

She stopped as they stood there breathing, getting used to the feel of each other. He felt soft and warm, and hard, all at the same time.

"My God!" she thought to herself, "There was that word, 'warm'," she realized that every single time she'd felt his skin; his face, or his hands, that the adjective 'warm,' had popped into her brain. But, it wasn't until now, that she realized, she was fully conscious of why:

She had her arms around a human being. Human. Her Spike was standing here with his human arms around her.

She stood still against him, feeling his heart beating against her chest, and marveled at the miracle. Of him.

For William, he felt himself, like at any second, he was going to faint. He was amazed at how well her body molded to his, like they were made for each other. His face felt flushed with embarrassment, as he felt her breasts against his chest, felt himself respond automatically, in a way that a lady was sure to be offended by. He stepped back a bit, to reduce the contact.

Little did he know, that Buffy smiled, when she realized that he had responded to her. Five years, an apocalypse, a death and a prophesied resurrection later, and his body still responded to hers.

"William," she said softly into his ear, "you asked me if I was…your wife?"

He nodded into her shoulder, which was right next to his face.

"I…when you knew me…my name was Buffy, Buffy Summers. You and I were, we’d been…" she swallowed, knowing how hard it was to say, yet alone probably to hear.

"We’re not married, are we?" William asked, sadly.

He had been shocked to hear he had a wife he didn’t remember, but now, after seeing her, spending a few minutes with her, he was suddenly, rather happy, thinking that this pretty woman had loved him enough to marry him.

Buffy took a deep breath, and still hugging him, her mouth to his ear, said, "No. I’m sorry, William…we’re not, but I…I loved you and I…when you…when I thought you were dead…I took your name. I…it’s so complicated…"

"Loved me?" he asked, "loved me?" he repeated, this time, his voice emphasizing just a little bit, the past tense of the word, as he stiffened a little bit also, as if waiting to hear the pronouncement.

Buffy’s eyes grew moist, as she heard the inflection in his voice, felt his body language, "Loved you five years ago, LOVE you now. Love you five years from now. Always, Spike. Always," she said, lifting her head up to look at him for a moment.

"Spike?" he asked, confused.

"I’m sorry. William. It’s a name you used to go by," she said.

"Spike? What kind of a God-awful name is that? I went by that? That’s how you remember me, Elizabeth, as a man with the name of Spike?"

She broke the embrace and looked at him, "You listen to me, William Worthington," she said, slowly enunciating both his first and last names, "I don’t just think of you as a man named Spike, because…because you…I called you by both names. You were both. So don’t you…" she lost her train of thought.

"I knew and loved both of you!" she said, finishing.

"Both of us? Then it’s true? I have some sort of disassociative personality disorder?

She shook her head no, "Not unless me, going by Buffy, also means that I have one," she said smiling at him.

"William, I can’t explain it all to you right now. Please, I just can’t! You’ll just have to trust me until we get home."

She hugged him briefly once more, "I love you, I want us to go home!" she said.

"Home?"

"Yes, home!"

"Where?" William asked.

"California," Buffy said.

"California. California? How did I get here then?" William asked.

"I don’t know," she white-lied, knowing that maybe one day she would have to tell him the whole tale, but not now, that was for sure.

"What’s…it like?" he asked, "home?"

She stood facing him and told him of his house in Julian, (without saying it’s name, and of which he didn’t ask) of each of the rooms, the furniture, the fireplace, of the woods, and the trails, and the restaurant where they’d had dinner. Even a little about his friend Clem, except for about his being a demon.

He just looked at her, taking the whole thing in, feeling like there was a little crack, just a gleaning, of something other than only, the far away, and obviously, false images he had in his head, of a life that he couldn’t possibly have lived.

"William," Buffy said, gently, looking him in the eyes, "I’ve come to take you home. Do you think you’d like that?" she asked, suddenly unsure of how he would perceive this whole experience…or her.

"Do you…want to go home? With me?"

He looked her, this stranger, who was no longer such a stranger, this woman, who all of a sudden, had brought a light into his darkness, his desolation.

He nodded, "Yes. I think…I think that would be very nice, indeed," he said, shyly smiling at her, before looking down.

She smiled, too, "Good then! Good!"

Once more, she gently put her arms around him, so that her mouth was next to his ear, while anybody looking in would just see a man and woman embracing, "William, I need what I told you about us not really being married to be a secret."

"Why?"

"Because, I don’t think that they’ll let me take you home, if they just think that I’m a very, very good friend, no matter how close we were. But I’ve got your last name, so hopefully, it won’t be a problem. Can you keep this our secret?" she asked.

"I will, Elizabeth. I’ll…refer to you as my wife, if they ask," he said, "I’ll…even tell them that I remember you!" he said, proud of himself for having thought this up.

"But, if you do that, we’ll both have to have the same stories. Maybe it’s better to just be honest that you don’t remember me from before. Only that you know I’m your wife now. What do you think?" she asked, wanting to give him some say in the matter.

He nodded his agreement, "Very well," he said, still holding on to her, which was very nice indeed.

"Elizabeth?" he asked, "did I love you? I mean, I think I must have, but was I…a good…boyfriend?"

Buffy sighed, with what felt like a breath she’d been holding since the moment Spike had died.

She turned her face to him, and put her hands up on either side of his face, his hair. She brought her mouth as close to his as was possible, without touching lips, "You were the best, My William; the best boyfriend, the best lover," she barely breathed into his mouth, and into his astonished heart, "and yes you loved me! Better than I did you, I’m afraid. But, that’s going to change from now on. I promise you that, on all of our loved one’s graves," Buffy said, and then very gently, kissed those lips she’d been so tantalizingly close to.

William stood there, his head spinning, as he experienced what he remembered, as his first ever kiss.

She pulled back and looked at him, as he stood there with what appeared to be a look of awe on his face. And sort of a funny ‘awe’ at that.

She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

"William, I hope that his all hasn’t been too much, I…"

All of a sudden they were interrupted by the room’s intercom, "Hospital Vistors on 10^th Floor North, 8^th, 7^th, and 6^th Floor South, are all hereby informed that the visiting hours will be over in 5 minutes. Visitors are asked to leave promptly. Thank you.

"No!" Elizabeth and William said together.

They smiled at each other.

"I don’t want to leave," Buffy said, holding onto his hands, "not now, not when I just got to see you again!"

William didn’t know what to do; he started to get agitated.

"It’s alright, William. I didn’t mean to upset you," she said, realizing that he was feeling what she was feeling, too. Perhaps for different reasons, but none-the-less, she was feeding his sense of anxiety by her own.

"Will you…?" he was afraid to ask.

"Will I what?"

"Will you come back and see me? Tomorrow?" William finally asked, looking at her.

"William, wild horses couldn’t keep me away from coming back and seeing you tomorrow!"

"Oh, I forgot," Buffy said, opening up her overnight bag, "I have a couple of things for you," she said as she handed him the black T-shirt and jeans.

He just stared at them.

"I know, you probably don’t even remember these, do you?"

He shook his head.

"Well, none-the-less, they should fit you perfectly," she said, smiling.

"Thank you," he said, still examining the jeans. He’d certainly didn’t remember having a pair of trousers like these ever before. And the shirt? Not really a shirt, something more like a short nightshirt.

"Um…maybe I can buy you something else that you might like a little more," she said.

"No," he said, looking up, shocked, "you don’t have to spend your money on me!"

She almost laughed, except she remembered that he really didn’t know the customs of 2008. Besides, even Spike, in the last couple of years wouldn’t have liked that either.

Buffy had one more thing, "Here," she said, and handed him a copy of the drawing that he’d made of her and him under the canopy.

He looked at her questioningly, "I thought…"

She came close to him, once again, whispering in his ear, "But you drew it, none-the-less, William, and it’s beautiful! If anyone asks you about it, you can tell then this is from a drawing from our wedding," she said, smiling as she stepped away.

The hospital intercom announced the end of visiting hours. They both groaned.

Buffy gave William a warm hug and a gentle kiss on the lips.

"Bye, William. I…I love you!" she said, smiling, happy, "I’ll see you tomorrow! I’ll see you every day, until we get you out of here!" she said, as she opened the door.

William didn’t know why he found it so hard to believe, but he was suddenly afraid to see her go, "You’ll come back? For me?" he asked so plaintively, that her heart almost stopped.

"I promise, I promise William, I’ll be back for you. I’ll never let you go again, never!"

"Miss, visiting hours are over!" a nurse said, as she finished pushing the door to Williams room all the way open.

"Please come back to see me, Elizabeth," William said.

"I will, I’ll see you tomorrow. I Promise," Buffy said on her way out the door.

Buffy kept looking back toward his room until she was forced to go out the double doors that lead to his ward.

She was smiling so broadly, she was sure her face was going to crack. She was so happy!

William, Spike! All the fears she’d had about seeing him, and he was still there. She knew him, even if he didn’t know her. She knew him! She still loved him. He might even love her, too. Like he did. Someday.

She was smiling like a fool, as she went down in the elevator to make her way to the ER, after first calling Dawn, Willow, and maybe even Andrew to let them know what was going on.

All of a sudden, life was wonderful!

"My Kind of Town, Chicago is…a Town that won’t let you down, it’s my kind of Town!" she hummed to herself.

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