Chapter I.

“I’m still not sure how you managed to get me here.” Buffy snorted, lifting the umpteenth heavy box from the floor of her mother’s gallery.

“Maybe because you’re such an adorable daughter who always tries to please her beloved mom,” Joyce replied, batting her eyelashes.

“No, that’s not it. I imagine it was the whole ‘you’re blood of my blood, I gave you life and is that the way you pay me back after the twenty hours I was in labor?’ speech what fooled me. Geez, you sure know which buttons to push.” The blonde girl rolled her eyes, putting the box she’d been carrying on the floor and opening it to begin arranging the various artifacts that were inside on the proper shelf.

“C’mon, what’s so bad about helping your mother? Aren’t you having fun spending time with me?” Joyce winked at her.

“Hell no!” Buffy snapped.

“Watch your mouth in front of your mother, missy!” her mother admonished her.

“What? You scold me for that little thing... while Spike is free to curse in front of you as much as he pleases?” she protested.

“Well, honey, William is not my son, but that doesn’t mean that I excuse his rude behavior, and even you have to admit that he very rarely uses foul language when he’s around me,” Joyce explained.

And now the conversation had turned to another of her mother’s favorite subjects, Spike... she could spend hours singing his praises and for obvious reasons Buffy felt kinda awkward humoring her, especially after Will’s ‘thy will be done’ spell.

Oh, God, she'd tried to forget about that by any possible means; she’d tried to forget how happy and how in love she’d been with Spike during those hours. Tried being the operative word, as the memories of that day came back to her with recurring frequency. What bothered her the most was that Willow had swore that she hadn’t said anything about love when she’d cast the spell. She’d tried to reason that marriage and love came hand to hand, before her pragmatic friend reminded her that that wasn’t always true.

She shook herself from this train of thought; no way was she going down that road again, she needed to change subjects and fast.

“Anyway, returning to what you were saying before, look, it’s Saturday afternoon and in Buffy’s dictionary the word ‘fun’ means taking a walk in the park, go shopping with my friends, go out to grab a bite or drink something, or even to go Bronzing... but it definitely doesn’t mean being stuck in this dusty gallery all day long!” Buffy whined.

“First of all, my gallery is not dusty,” Joyce pointed out, feeling a little bit insulted. “And second, God, I just asked for a little help, don’t be so tragic!”

“This ‘little help’ has lasted for more than three hours already; take a look outside, it’s already sunset!” Buffy struck back.

“I know, but I needed someone strong enough to carry all those heavy boxes... and all my employees were busy today.”

“So that’s it, you finally accept it. You asked for my help because of my strength. Geez, being the Slayer truly sucks!” Buffy grumbled.

“Well, think of it this way, yes, the fact that you are the Slayer helps, because as you said it’s already sunset and there might be some demons running around town and they could attack me. But you are here to protect me, and I know how much you care about my safety,” Joyce made her notice.

“Stop trying to push the right buttons!” her daughter summoned her.

“Honey, you know better than me that I would've asked Spike to help me, if only Rupert didn’t insist on keeping him in captivity in his house,” her mother said.

“Mom, how many times do I have to repeat it to you so you understand? Spike is dangerous, chipped or not, and you should keep your distance from him!” Buffy said exasperated.

And immediately after saying that, an image of Spike helping an almost blind Giles, without giving it a second thought, doing it just because he knew it would make her happy, appeared unbidden in Buffy’s mind.

‘Geez, Buffy, stop it already! It was just a stupid spell! Spike hates you and all the people you care about and would do the impossible to turn your life into a living hell!’ the blonde reminded herself.
And just like that, Spike had become the main subject of the two women’s chat yet again and that really wouldn’t do for Buffy.

“Honey, let me remind you of one or two things. Last year, Spike came to our house and I made us hot chocolate with those mini-marshmallows while we had a pleasant conversation where he confessed all of the relationship problems he’d had with that awful girl Drusilla, and before you start sputtering nonsense about him being soulless and all, I have to tell you that no one could pour their hearts out like he did, if they didn’t have any feelings! Anyway, the point is that, back on those days, he was chipless and free to do any cruel or evil thing he pleased, and yet he didn’t even try to hurt me. I wasn’t afraid of him then, so there’s not even the slightest chance that I will be afraid him now. Plus, I really think that you should set him free, he’s not an animal,” Joyce pointed out.

“Yes, he is, so forget your plan of becoming his new best friend!” Buffy responded.

And just like that, more images of that fateful day played in her mind, this time they were mostly of Spike pulling her closer to him or smashing her against the wall to kiss her passionately, fiercely and savagely... exactly like an animal!

If she really concentrated, she could still recall the taste of his soft lips and feel the shivers that had ran up and down her spine when he’d pressed his body as close to hers as he possibly could without taking their clothes off.

‘It’s the spell! It has to be. I’m almost beginning to regret not accepting Willow’s offer of a spell to forget all that!’ she thought.

Almost, because for some strange reasons that she didn’t care to study too closely for the moment, she didn’t want to forget.

Anyway, she wanted to take her mind off the dangerously sexy blond vampire, but the fact that her mother kept enumerating his good qualities wasn’t helping at all with that. So, for the second time that afternoon, she needed to change subjects quickly.

“Ok, let’s continue working. We are almost done. Well, it’s me who is almost done doing the hard work, since you’re just bossing me around!” Buffy complained.

“That’s the fun of being the boss!” Joyce sneered. “Just hold on a little bit longer, honey, there’s only one box left,” she added, pointing to the corner. “That goes in the other room,” she instructed her.

“Anyway, I hope you remember that you owe me a big favor for all my help, big!” Buffy informed her, before leaving with the box.

Once she lowered the box on the other room’s floor, her eyes were drawn to the antique desk that had been placed on the far corner of the room. It was beautiful and so elegant; she imagined it could probably be made of mahogany. She got closer to inspect it, noticing the superb craftsmanship, the excellent condition it was in and the several drawers of different sizes it had to store paper and pens. In a word, it was perfect.

She ran her hands reverently over it, deciding then and there that she wanted, no, she needed to own this desk, even if she couldn’t understand why. It was almost as if the desk was calling to her and she had to answer to its call. It was predestined.

When Joyce entered the room to help Buffy unload the things in the last box and was surprised to find her daughter staring at the desk so intently.

“Honey, is something wrong?”

“Mom, do you remember that big favor you owe me?” Buffy asked, without taking her eyes off the desk.

“It’s pretty difficult to forget about it, since you reminded me about it not even ten minutes ago.” Her mother rolled her eyes.

“Well, I know how you can repay me now. I want this desk!” she stated, pointing at the desk.

“What? Forget it. We just received it as an anonymous donation a couple of days ago, but that isn’t the point. The point is that I still have to show it to my customers,” Joyce protested.

“Here’s your customer! I want that desk and I won’t let anyone steal it from me!” Buffy said with determination.
“Buffy, why do you want that old desk? I could buy you a new dress, shoes, some accessories...” Joyce said as she tried to change her daughter’s mind.

“No thanks. This is precisely what I want. Please, mom, let me have it. I promise that I’ll work for you whenever you want, this time for free and without complaining. Plus, you keep saying that my bedroom needs a new look, so we can start with this desk. After all, the one I have there is so small and old...”

“Well, honey, if you don’t want anything old, you really shouldn’t be so set in getting this desk, since it belongs to the 1880’s,” Joyce informed her, already tasting victory.

“That’s not old, that’s antique, it’s different!” Buffy pointed out. “Now, just picture that desk in my room. I’d probably be coming home more often, instead of staying at my dorm room, just to put my books on the desk and study harder than I ever have so far... admit it, you’re already loving this picture,” Buffy said persuasively.

“Now it’s you who knows exactly which buttons to push,” Her mother responded.

“I must have learned that from a certain someone,” Buffy teased her.

“Okay, Buffy, you win. I’ll make one of my delivery guys bring the desk home on Monday. I don’t trust your Slayer’s strength with it; you would surely end up breaking it!” Joyce surrendered.

“Thank you so much, you’re the best mom in the world!” Buffy hugged her mother happily.

Outside, from the window, someone that had seen the whole scene play, grinned with supreme satisfaction. “Alright, alright, it seems my plan is working. Now it’s just a matter of time...”

TBC

*The poem that appears in this chapter is called ‘Up and Up’ and it was written by the amazing Xionin, who was very kind to let us use it in this story.

Chapter II

London, 1880

“Oh, mother, you didn’t have to buy me this,” William said, his enraptured expression belying his words as he ran his fingers reverentially over the desk that his mother had just given him as his birthday gift. It was the same desk that he’d been admiring earlier that week when they’d visited the furniture shop. He’d thought he’d been stealthy enough for her not to notice; but then again by now he should’ve known that there was very little that his mother wasn’t aware of when it was related to him.
After all, a mother always knows best.

“Nonsense, my dear, you deserve this and so much more for being such a wonderful son,” she said, smiling fondly at her son’s reaction to the desk. She’d just known that it would be the perfect gift for him. “I got an excellent deal for it. If I didn’t know better I would have thought that Mr. Meadows wanted you to have it, he generally isn’t as complacent as he was today. He even lowered the price as soon as he found out it was for you.”

“That’s odd,” William said, adjusting his eyeglasses as he looked alternatively from his mother to the desk. He’d never heard of Mr. Meadows cutting a deal to anyone.

“Perhaps it just means the desk was predestined for you,” Anne Pratt said.

“Perhaps.” He passed a hand over his jaw reflexively, wondering if he should tell his mother of the feelings the desk had brought forth in him from the first time he’d seen it.

It had been so strange, he’d never felt a pull like that for something before. It had been like the desk had called to him, had chosen him for some strange reason that he couldn’t even begin to fathom. And those feelings had only grown stronger now that the desk was his. He almost had the certainty that something monumental was about to happen; he had no idea what it could be, but whatever it was, for some reason, he wasn’t afraid to face it at all.

Just then the maid came in to announce that supper was ready, saving him from making a decision on whether to tell his mother or not about that. Exhaling a relieved sigh, he offered his mother one of his arms and they walked into the dining room.

* ~ * ~ *

Later that night

William sat in front of his new desk as he wrote a poem, which in itself wasn’t strange as writing poetry was one of his favorite pastimes. What was strange was the sudden urge he’d felt to write this particular poem. It had been as if someone had whispered the words in his ear while he wrote it. Maybe what some poets claimed was true and muses existed?

There could be no other explanation, he thought to himself as he read what he’d written, still unable to believe that those words had come out from him. No matter how much his mother tried to reassure him saying that his poems were heartfelt and beautiful, he knew better than to believe her. Especially when his so called friends made fun of him, or rather humiliated him, every single time he made the mistake of reading one of his new compositions to them. But this poem was actually very good. It was one he felt proud of writing, even if he wasn’t sure of how it had happened.

Unable to stop himself, he raised the paper and read the poem aloud:

*“I rise
From hell to touch your star
From pain to heal your scars
From the depths of sorrow

I rise
Above the painted lies
To claim my hard-fought prize
To show you something better

I rise
To the surface, to the light
To the mountaintop this night
Shouting until you hear

My hand is outstretched
Take it and rise.”*

As he finished saying the last line, a gust of wind entered the room through the window, rattling the half opened windowpanes and making him shiver as it seemed to envelop him for just a second before the windowpanes were shut closed.

Surprised and more than a little unnerved, he stood up and walked to the window, opening it again while he looked outside to the garden. Everything was oddly calm there. Not one tree branch moved, so what was it that had happened just then? Had it been just his imagination? Being a poet, he knew he had a lot of that!

Shaking his head as he reflected that it was entirely possible that he might be imagining things, he walked back to the desk and sat once more in front of it, reading the poem again as he mused on how wonderful it would be to find someone he could do all those things for. Someone that could love him and who he could love in return. He’d gladly go through hell and back if he were certain that in the end he’d find the one person he was meant to be with.

Feeling inspired once more, he took another piece of paper from one of the desk drawers and dipped his quill pen in the ink bottle before beginning to write again. When he finished, he took the poem and folded it neatly along with the letter he had just written and put them inside an envelope. Then he left it inside of one of the secret drawers he’d find in the desk that night. It wouldn’t do that anyone might find them, now would it?

* ~ * ~ *

“Mr. Meadows, I’m so very happy that you followed my instructions so well. I think you have earned yourself a little incentive for services rendered, beyond the fact that I’m not going to kill you, of course,” the mysterious woman said, taking a bag full of gold coins out of her purse and giving it to the awed man, muttering a few words under her breath before she turned and walked out of the furniture shop.

The shop owner stood in the same place for a minute and then coming out of the daze he had been in, he blinked, looking down at his hand. Where had this bag come from?

* ~ * ~ *

Sunnydale, 1999

True to her promise, Joyce had the desk delivered to her house that Monday in the afternoon and Buffy, of course, had been there to receive the delivery guy and direct him to her old room so he could place the desk there.

After the man left, she went upstairs practically bouncing. She could hardly believe how happy it made her to be the proud owner of an antique desk. She’d have understood it if it had been a new dress or shoes, it was always nice to own more of those, especially since being the Slayer was hell for her wardrobe. But this desk was special. She knew that she needed to own it from the moment she’d seen it. And now it was hers and Buffy had the weird feeling that she was going to be spending a lot of time in her mom’s house from that moment on.

She pulled the chair out and sat in front of the desk, lovingly running her fingers over it as she began opening all the drawers while trying to decide how she was going to accommodate her things inside.

One of the drawers got stuck and she tugged on it softly to open it; after all, it wouldn’t do to break the thing the first day she’d had it, would it? And it was then that she noticed a little button on the side of the drawer. Maybe it was some sort of mechanism that opened the drawer? Carefully she pushed the button and suddenly a panel that she hadn’t even noticed was there before opened, revealing two more drawers.

“Cool,” she said, smiling to herself, unable to contain her enthusiasm at her finding. “I never knew that desks could have secret compartments like this!”

Curious, she opened the upper drawer and found some unused paper and envelopes along with a small ink bottle and a quill pen inside. She thought it was odd that the ink bottle had survived the trip upstairs let alone the drive, but promptly shrugged it off to open the second drawer and taking an envelope out of it. It wasn’t addressed to anyone, but by its thickness she knew there was something inside. Should she open it?

She looked around guiltily, before remembering that she was alone at her house. Anyway, who would know if she opened it? And even if someone found out, the desk and all its contents were hers now, so she was entitled to read the letter. Decision made, she opened the envelope and pulled out the two pieces of folded paper that were inside. ‘Hmm, weird,’ she thought. The paper and envelope seemed to be pretty similar to the ones in the other drawer.

She unfolded the first paper and was mesmerized by what she found inside. Unable to resist, she read it aloud.

“London, December 4, 1880

My beloved,

I am not sure what impulse drove me to write to you today. I just know that someday, somewhere, somehow this letter will get to you and you will know that I am here waiting, bidding my time, willing to go through heaven and hell to find you and make you mine as I am already yours.

Love always,

Your William”

“Oh wow, how I wish someone would write a letter like this to me someday,” she sighed dreamily, wiping away the few tears that had escaped from her eyes. This had to be the most touching and romantic love letter she’d ever read. Not that she’d read that many, but wow! It was at least a hundred times better than every romantic movie she’d ever seen, and she had seen a lot of those! This William guy sure knew how to write and melt a girl into a puddle of goo at the same time. It was kind of a shame that he’d lived so long ago; because if the letter had been a little more recent she would have moved heaven and hell herself to get in contact with him.

She unfolded the other piece of paper, sure that nothing could top what she’d read before, only to find that the poem written on it certainly could. Again she read it aloud and when she finished the last line, a gust of wind came from seemingly out of nowhere and she shivered as it enveloped her for just a second before it disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared.

Buffy turned to the window, half-hoping that it was open but knowing that it wasn’t. And just as she imagined, it wasn’t. ‘Okay, definitely wigged out now, what the hell was that?’

There had to be some logical explanation for what just happened, but since they lived in the Hellmouth, she imagined anything could be possible no matter how impossible it might seem to be. Oh, well, she’d just have to ask Giles about this on the first chance she got; maybe he’d be able to provide her with some answers.
She just hoped that it wasn’t a sign that the umpteenth apocalypse was coming soon. Geez, that would be…what? The third one that year alone? And after all, it wasn’t as if she was asking for much more than to have at least a month of peace and quiet in between... except for patrols, of course.

She re-read the letter and the poem once more and then, the silliest idea ever popped in her mind. Almost without her realizing it, one of her hands had already grabbed the quill pen, dipping it in the ink bottle, as the other took a sheet of paper.

‘What the hell am I doing? This is making no sense at all!’ she thought, but by then she had already begun writing.

‘C’mon, Buffy, think, this William guy will never ever receive your letter. So just stop it!’ her rational mind summoned her. But it was useless, her heart came off the winner in that inner battle, and her heart wanted to live a dream. So, word after word, she ended up responding to William.

And once she was done, she placed her letter in an envelope in the same place where William had placed his, so many years ago, calling herself stupid in the process. Why do such an absurd thing? It wasn’t as if anything would come out of it, would it?

Shrugging as she thought that it wouldn’t hurt anyone to leave the letter there for now, she took William’s letter and poem and placed them inside her diary so she would to read them whenever she pleased.

tbc

Chapter III

Warning: Gross food combinations ahead. ;)

‘Grrr, I should have known better than to trust her. Nineteen years... and yet it seems I don’t know my mother as well as I thought. Of course there was a hook... and what a hook it was!’ Buffy thought as she headed towards a certain place, while remembering how her mother had cornered her into doing her bidding.

*Flashback*

As soon as she’d left her room, after celebrating the arrival of her oh so craved desk with a little dance and discovering the little surprises it contained, Buffy had found Joyce waiting for her in the corridor, with her arms crossed in front of her chest as she reclined against the wall.

“So, did you enjoy your gift?” the older woman wondered.

“Of course I did, and you wouldn’t believe what I fou—” Buffy began to say enthusiastically, but her mother beckoned her to stop by raising her hand as she pushed herself away from the wall.

“You’ll tell me later. Now, it’s payback time!” Joyce reminded her with a victorious smile, and this time she had many reasons to feel that way.

“Do you need me to work again at the gallery? It’s a bit too soon, don’t you think? But since I promised,” Buffy said, sighing dramatically before rolling her eyes at her mother. ‘She was too predictable, or maybe not so much,’ she thought as she noticed that her mother shook her head negatively. What the hell was that about?

“No, Buffy, it has nothing to do with the gallery. I need you to do something for me, but let me warn you that it’s something that you won’t like a bit.”

“That’s impossible. There’s nothing that I dislike more than working at the gallery,” Buffy responded with a sigh of relief that she won’t be going to the gallery any time soon, even if she had the nagging feeling that she wasn’t going to like her mother’s answer one bit.

“I’m pretty sure there is. I’ll give you a clue, it’s not something, it’s someone,” Joyce added, waiting for her daughter’s reaction.

“Spike?” she said, almost scared of what her mother was about to ask from her.

“Exactly, my dear.”

“So, to make things clear, what has Spike to do with the favor I owe you?” Buffy frowned.

“Well, he’s in a place that he doesn’t deserve to be, the poor dear boy.”

“Mom, you do realize that this poor dear boy is way older than you are, don’t you?”

This time it was Joyce who rolled her eyes at her daughter. “And that’s relevant, how? You owe me, Buffy, so, now you go talk to Rupert and persuade him to let William free. After all, with that chip in his head is not like he can hurt anyone anymore; there’s just no reason to keep him there,” Joyce explained.

“But...”

“No buts, Buffy. We both know exactly how persuasive you can be when you want to, so I’m sure you’ll have no trouble convincing Rupert,” Joyce insisted.

“But mom...” Buffy whined, as she tried to protest. Tried because it wasn’t as if her mother had let her open her mouth for anything more than that!

“Let me explain better how things work, darling. You do what I asked you to, and listen, honey, trying is not enough; you have to be successful, otherwise... I’m going to call the delivery guy and bye, bye desk!” Joyce threatened her with a sweet smile in her face.

“No. Anything but the desk!” Buffy pleaded with her, paling at the idea of losing her most prized possession.

“So?” Joyce wondered rhetorically, knowing perfectly well that Buffy wouldn’t say no to her now.

“You evil and skillful blackmailer, you!” Buffy snapped, putting her jacket on, walking downstairs and leaving, so enraged by what she was being forced to do that she practically took the door off its hinges as she opened it and left the windows rattling after she closed it with all her might.

*End flashback*

So that was the reason why between mumbles and grumbles, the blonde slayer was on her way to obey her mother.

‘The worst part is that it’s already sunset. So he could be awake already. And I really don’t want to see him... that will make things even more complicated. Geez, what the hell am I saying? There’s nothing to complicate!’ she scolded herself.

She had avoided seeing Spike ever since the day of the damned spell, but now—if she didn’t want to lose her desk—she was forced not only to see him but to help him get released from his house arrest at Giles’ apartment. And there was nothing else she wanted more than to keep that desk.

Her mind drifted back to William’s letter and poem, which she had practically memorized by then. ‘Oh God, this William must be like the king of all lovers. There’s nothing I wouldn’t give to be loved that way. He’s the symbol of the purest romanticism and I only wish that there was a way I could find a man like that.’ She sighed dreamily, as she kept walking towards her Watcher’s house.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Giles’ house, around the same time

Spike stretched as he got up from the armchair where he’d slept. It definitely had been a great idea to convince the Watcher of not chaining him up anymore.

It hadn’t been easy but Giles had finally agreed to set him free from the chains, mostly for two reasons: the first was that Spike tore apart every chain and rope they used on him—no matter how sturdy they were—it was almost as if it was some kind of challenge for the vampire to do so. And second and probably the most important, Giles simply had missed his bathtub so much!

Then again, Giles was completely aware that there was no real danger in letting him unchained. Spike couldn’t harm the Watcher, or anyone else for that matter. No matter how hard he’d tried with anything that came in handy, a hammer, a pair of scissors, or even one of Giles’ heavy books, the result was always the same, Spike on the floor, clutching his head as unbearable pain defeated him and his impulsive evil nature.

Anyway, in order to make him understand that even if he was being released from the bathtub, he was still not a welcomed guest in his house, Giles told him that he could sleep on the armchair on the living room, but the sofa was off-limits. He even went as far as to spray holy water over the damned thing so he wouldn’t even try to use it! Then he suggested that Spike could do some chores around the house, but Spike’s growl had been a very clear answer to that. So when Spike had offered himself as a cook, Giles had been more than a little astonished. After asking the vampire for a proof that he could actually cook and tasting that the results were infinitely better than his cooking attempts, he readily accepted the vampire’s offer.

In fact the results had been so much better than his that that was the reason that when Spike entered the kitchen, he found Giles waiting for him, sitting at the table.

“So, what's on the menu today?” the Watcher wondered with fake indifference, as he read the newspaper.

“Good evening to you too, mate, and yes, I slept well, thanks for asking!” Spike struck back sarcastically. ”Anyway, you know the rules, I eat first, and then it's your turn!” the vampire continued, opening one of the kitchen’s cabinets.

“By the way, you haven’t told me yet when did you learn to cook? And mostly why? You are a vampire!" Giles asked puzzled.

“Well, I'm a vampire who hasn't forgotten how good food is, and believe me, the whole thing about losing your sense of taste is just a bunch of crap! You concentrate, you taste,” Spike pointed out. “Anyway, I learned to cook because it’s such a hook up for girls. You know, sometimes, I needed something different from the quick kills... not that those aren’t fun either.” He winked at the horrified look that Giles was giving him. “So every once in a while, with Dru’s consent, of course, I would meet a girl, invite her to our place and cook for her. The girl ate what I cooked... and then I ate her, it was just perfect!" he smirked, almost melancholically, turning to see that Giles’ expression had changed from horrified to pissed off. “Hey, Rupert, you asked!” he defended himself.

“Yes, and I couldn’t begin to express how much I regret I did!” The man rolled his eyes, angry at himself for asking Spike about anything. He should have known better by now. Giles stopped berating himself, after all, it wouldn’t do him any good to give Spike any advantages over him; he already had more than enough as it was.

So he focused back on the vampire, but he wasn’t on the same place he’d been a few seconds ago, he was about to turn to scan the rest of the kitchen, when less than a second after, he heard the vampire cry in pain behind his back.

Turning, he saw the vampire cursing and letting a sharp knife fall to the floor, before he fell to his knees cradling his head between his hands.

“That's the fifteenth time in three days. Good Lord, Spike, when are you going to give up?” Giles asked him calmly, as he resumed reading the newspaper.

“Never! One bloody day this sodding thing will stop working, but I'll never know when if I don't keep on trying!” Spike grumbled, recovering and going back to the cabinet, taking the bread out and putting it over the counter, before taking two slices of bread out of the package.

“Uh! You know, we’re out of marmalade,” Giles warned him.

“Who said that I needed marmalade?” He sneered, drawing out his jar of blood from the fridge.

“Dear Lord, now you’ve made me lose my appetite!” Giles grumbled, leaving the room looking as if he was about to throw up.

“Great, it always works like a charm," Spike said satisfied, spreading the blood over one of the slices of bread and then covering it with the other and taking a bite of his Bloody sandwich™.

‘Finally! No more tub, chains or stupid ‘Kiss the Librarian’ mug! Well, in all fairness, it was kinda fun when the Slayer was there tempting me, batting her pretty eyelashes, pushing her pretty hair away from her pretty neck to make me see her pretty blood pulse in her pretty veins. Wait. There’s way too many pretties there!’ Spike scolded himself.

And then, inevitably, he also remembered what had happened after Willow’s wish, since it had been the same day. After all, the memories were still fresh, since it had been only four days from that event. But something told him that even an eternity wouldn’t be enough to erase those memories from his mind, mostly because, deep inside, he didn’t want them to disappear.

‘I still can’t believe what happened. One moment I was fighting her... or rather being punched down by her, and the next moment, she was wearing my ring and we were planning our wedding, with all that it entailed,’ he thought, unable to understand why he was smiling at the memory.

‘Of course you are smiling. She was weak then, and you took advantage of the whole situation like the big Bad you are!’ he congratulated himself, as his demon sang with pride.

But that song didn’t last for long.

‘To be honest, it’s not like I dragged her to my bed and abused her. Actually I... kissed her, hugged her, smiled at her. I... cuddled with her. Bloody sodding hell! I was just *courting* her... as the last of the sappy boyfriends would have done! Eeeww!’ he recalled almost nauseated by his behavior that day, throwing away the rest of his dinner on the trashcan.

“It seems that Rupert is not the only one who lost his appetite now!” Spike grumbled.

It was almost as if fate had decided to make fun of him that day, because a couple of minutes after the cause of his sudden loss of appetite knocked on the front door. After waiting for a little while, she turned the knob and finding it unlocked, she opened the door and crossed the threshold.

“Hello? Giles, may I come in?” she called him out, deciding to sit on the armchair while she waited for him.

“Why do you ask? You’re already in!” Spike snapped, leaving the kitchen.

“Geez and you are already up!” she rolled her eyes.

“Yes, and I’d prefer it if you do not sit on my bed!” he added and she jumped off the chair, seemingly squeamish and disgusted.

“Oh, why the face now, pet? We did so much more than sitting on that chair, a bunch of days ago... correction. I sat on it, you sat... on me,” he commented slyly.

“Eeeww! You, you pig!” she snapped, as she tried to understand why that memory had caused a tiny flip-flop in her heartbeat.

“Why? I’m just telling you the truth. And among all the words that came out from your pretty mouth that day... ‘Eeeww’ was surely not one of them!” he reminded her.

‘Bloody hell! Again with the pretty stuff, quit it. And what exactly are you doing? Because it sounds like... flirting! Just quit it, bloody just quit it!’ he summoned himself.

There was a minute of deep and awkward silent, where neither of them dared to say a word, until they both saw Giles come downstairs as a their salvation.

“I heard you calling me before, but I thought it was just my imagination. Hello, Buffy.”

“Hey, Giles. Mom sent me to talk to you,” Buffy explained.

“Oh, dear Joyce. Please, give her my regards!” Spike said, smiling fondly.

“Geez and here we go again with the Mutual Admiration Club!” Buffy rolled her eyes. Spike looked at her curious over what she could have meant with that, before shrugging it off. He didn’t care that much to want to find out what it was.

“Oh my, did something happen to her?” Giles asked her... with way too much concern, at least in Buffy’s opinion.

“Nope, she is more than fine. No, wait, on second thought she must have become kinda insane overnight, judging by what she just asked me to do.”

“Why? What did she ask you to do?”

“She wants you to... set Spike free!” she informed him.

“Have I said that I adore that woman already?” Spike commented with a huge smile.

“Buffy, please tell me I misunderstood what you just said?” Giles exclaimed, clearly in shock, taking his eyeglasses off to polish them with a handkerchief he took from his pants’ pocket.

“Sorry, there’s no misunderstanding and before you ask, this is not a joke. Anyway, mom has some good points for asking this,” she justified her mother.

“Such as?” Giles questioned her disbelievingly, putting his eyeglasses on again.

“Well, since he can’t hurt people anymore, he’s not a real danger,” she made him notice, although she knew that even with a hundred chips in his head he would still be dangerous for her. And judging by the way he was looking at her, Spike seemed to know that, too.

“Plus, it’s not completely necessary to keep him here just because we need information on the commando guys. He could find a new crypt nearby, and come here when he remembers something important... if he ever does, that is,” she continued.

“Uh, yes, I think that some freedom would help refresh my memory,” Spike pointed out.

“C’mon, Giles, I know how much you miss your privacy. You’ll finally have the whole house for yourself once again,” she insisted.

“Yes, but you forgot something. He can’t defend himself if he gets attacked, and I hate to say it but we can’t take such a high risk. It pains me to admit this, but we…” He cleared his throat, clearly unable to believe what he was about to add. “We need him at the moment.”

“Well, people, I’ve got the perfect solution. Take my chip out,” the vampire suggested nonchalantly.

“Spike, shut up!” Watcher and Slayer said at unison.

“Uhmm, all right, I’ll concede that it would be great to have my house for myself again, especially with the…uh, peculiar dietary habits that Spike has been displaying lately.” Giles shuddered remembering the last one of those displays. Oh, yes, he definitely wouldn’t miss the bleached pest once he left, but that didn’t mean that he could leave him unprotected. “But when he’s not in his crypt or in a safe place, he can’t be alone. You’ll have to look after him, Buffy,” Giles stated.

The two blondes’ eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as they yelled only one word, which was coincidentally the same one. “WHAT?”

TBC

We hope you're enjoying the story.

Next chapter: Spike and Buffy patrol and make a little discovery. And William makes a discovery of his own. ;)

Lu and I want to share the gorgeous banner her friend Madiya made for the story: (click on the pretty pic to view it full size)


Thanks again, Madiya! :D

Oh, and in case you were wondering, the translation to the subtitle underneath the story's name is: "'Is it possible to forget something that has not happened yet?" ;)

Chapter IV

Buffy was so not happy with the most recent developments. It seemed that her mother and her Watcher had decided to turn her life into a living hell. How else could anyone explain what had happened? It was like she’d stepped right into one of those Twilight Zone episodes.

First her mother had all but ordered her to make sure Spike was released from his house arrest, with the threat that if she didn’t she would take away her beloved desk. And then after Giles agreed to let Spike move into a crypt, he had turned the tables on her when he added that since they still needed Spike for information on the commando guys, she had to turn into some sort of vamp-sitter for him. As if she didn’t have enough in her plate already!

And to top it all, now she had to patrol with him. Spend time with the vampire, especially after… ‘No, better not go there again, Buffy, she berated herself when her thoughts kept straying to that fateful day. She simply didn’t want to spend time with Spike and that was it, no other reason attached. ‘Yeah, right,’ a little voice within her answered, sarcasm dripping in its tone. ‘It has nothing to do with the fact that you can’t forget anything related to that day, not his kisses, not the look in his bluer than blue eyes whenever he’d posed them upon you and how your body melted with each of those looks, not the way his body felt pressed to yours as he kissed you to oblivion...’

She squirmed a little as her panties seemed to get more than a bit uncomfortably wet as she recalled those memories. Oh God, just what I need, to get aroused around the bleached menace! Very embarrassed by her body’s reaction, she looked through the corner of her eye at the vampire walking next to her, hoping that he hadn’t noticed. She kinda expected to find him looking at her with that gorgeous… ‘No, not gorgeous; where the hell had that come from?’ With that damned (yes, that was so much better) smirk drawn in his face, but he didn’t look any happier than she was. That had to count for something, didn’t it?

Alright, so he was quite thankful with Joyce that he finally was out of that hell…er, the Watcher’s house and he was being allowed to move into a crypt. That was good, but what he didn’t like at all was the fact that Rupert considered it convenient to saddle him a vamp-sitter, even if said vamp-sitter was as pretty as the Slayer. ‘And there I go again with the pretty,’ he rolled his eyes, angry with himself of not being able to shake all these feelings the girl had brought out of him after the sodding spell.

He’d fought all of his un-life to try and suppress his geeky William side and he generally managed just fine, but after that day in which he’d had the chance of having her in his arms, to feel how it could be to be loved by her, after feeling the sweet way she clung to him as she returned his kisses and caresses, he hadn’t been able to suppress the damned bloody awful poet in him any longer and when he looked at her, and as long as he was being honest with himself, he truly wasn’t too sure if he wanted to suppress him anymore. He wanted to write sonnets about her beauty, about how graceful and powerful she was when she fought. ‘Dammit! As if I didn’t have more than enough problems with having this damned chip in my brain, now I’m having all these mushy feelings for the one girl I shouldn’t.’

And if that wasn’t more than enough, all these thoughts of the Slayer seemed to be awakening little Spike. ‘Oh, bloody hell! Just what I need!’ He gazed at the girl walking by his side through the corner of his eye, noticing that she seemed to be lost in her own thoughts and he exhaled a relieved sigh as he surreptitiously moved a hand to his pants and shifted himself to be a little more comfortable, but it turned out to be the worst thing he could have done, as his cock seemed to swell further at the touch of his hand. ‘Oh, fuck! Look what you’ve done now,’ he scolded himself, putting his hands inside the pockets of his duster to cover himself further. It really wouldn’t do that the Slayer noticed his body’s reaction to her or rather his thoughts of a much sweeter and pliant Buffy or he’d be dust in the wind.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

London, December 5th, 1880

William entered his bedchamber and reclined on the door, closing his eyes. He was so perplexed. He hadn’t been able to forget about the poem all day long, thinking of how he’d like to give it to someone special to him, but even as besotted as he was with Cecily Addams, he just knew he hadn’t written it for her. It had been about someone else, someone he probably hadn’t met yet, but oh how he wished he would meet soon.

Everything that had happened since he owned the desk had been shrouded in mystery. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something monumental was about to happen and that it would be because of that piece of furniture. Maybe it was his imagination—his mother always said that his imagination was quite vivid after all—or it could have something to do with the strange gust of wind that had entered his room after reading the poem he’d written. Whether it was one or the other, or neither, he felt the need to read the poem again, although he had hereby promised to himself that he wouldn’t do that anymore. So he pushed himself away from the door and advanced into his room towards the desk, pulling the chair out and sitting on it.

He opened the secret panel on the desk and then the second drawer. He did a double take when instead of the blank envelope he’d left there the night before, he found a similar envelope but with his name written on it.

“Is this some kind of joke?” he asked himself as he turned the envelope in his hands. It seemed to be made of the same paper that he’d used, but the handwriting his name was written in seemed almost childlike. Who could have had access to the desk? His mother didn’t enter his room unless he was inside and their maid was almost like a second mother to him, she wouldn’t go about messing with his things and they were the only two persons aside from him in the house, so who could it have been?

“Hmm.” He caressed his jaw thoughtfully. “Should I open it? Then again, why shouldn’t I, after all, it’s addressed to me,” he reasoned, his fingers itching to open the envelope and see what did it hold inside.

With baited breath he took out a neatly folded piece of paper from the envelope and unfolded it. He read it once, not giving credit to what his eyes were seeing. He left the letter over the desk, as he took his spectacles off and passed one of his hands over his face. Maybe he was too tired? There was no way he read what he just had.

With shaky hands he put his eyeglasses on and took the letter again, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he read it out loud.

“Sunnydale, California, December 5, 1999.

My dear William:

You don’t know me, I just found your letter and a poem in a desk I got from my mother and after I read them I was so completely moved by your beautiful and heartfelt words that it just erased any kind of rationality in me. So, here I am, answering your letter and telling you how much I wish I could be your beloved, the lucky woman to whom you said such amazing things to and believe me, I’m aware we’ll never get the chance to meet, because space and time, a very long time, come between us; and the saddest thing about all this is that you’ll never know that so many years into the future, there’s a woman whose heart beat faster because of your words. But I want to thank you any way, for making me dream. I had almost forgotten how to do that.

Truly yours,

Elizabeth.”

Sunnydale, California? Well, that was… peculiar. California was in America if he wasn’t wrong. But the strangest thing had been the date: 1,999. But as odd as it might seem, he couldn’t stop thinking that the strange gust of wind of the day before had somehow made this happen. There was no other possible explanation, at least not for him. Although if it were true, it would be beyond cruel to discover that somewhere, many, many years into the future, there was a woman that thought his words were beautiful and not being able to ever communicate with her in any way.

Or maybe there was a way…

She’d mentioned a desk; could it be the same desk he owned? The mysterious desk that had called to him since he’d first seen it? There was no other way to find out if what he was thinking could be true but to answer her letter and wish that somehow she will get it.

He took a piece of paper and an envelope from the upper drawer, along with his quill pen and the ink bottle and began writing.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

”Just tell me, Slayer... why the hell did you bring me to patrol with you? Weren’t you supposed to just help me find a new crypt and leave me there? It’s not like I could actually help you or anything,” Spike grumbled.

“Because patrolling is first, it’s my sacred duty and all, so you’ll just have to wait your turn!” Buffy answered, as they kept walking.

“But are you aware that your bloody duty exposes me to a very big danger?” he wondered.

“The fact that I’m aware of that is the main reason why you are patrolling with me at this moment.” The blonde girl threw an evil smile to the vampire.

“You can’t, Giles said...”

“Giles wants you alive, he didn’t say anything about you being a little hurt if a demon attacks you,” she cut him off.

“I hate you!” he growled at her.

“Oh no, really?” she said pretending to be astonished.

Buffy sighed; maybe it wasn’t the right time to patrol, since so far the night seemed to be deader than the bane of her existence currently walking by her side. They hadn’t found one single demon or vampire.

The only good thing this patrol had brought was that they’d begin bantering back and forth once more; she’d almost missed that. Well, the reality was that anything that put her mind off from the awkwardness she felt because of the damned spell was of the good in her book. She pouted, life wasn’t fair.

‘Oh, bloody hell, is it too much to ask for a demon to appear, despite my own safety? The side glances and her little sighs are cute, but the pout is truly killing me.’ Spike rolled his eyes as he remembered what he’d done about that pout a few days earlier.

‘Look at that lip, gonna get it, gonna get it,’ he remembered saying before taking her lower lip between his and nibbling on it, before kissing her until she was breathless and soft and sweet and… ‘Grr! Enough with that already,’ he scolded himself as he tried to will away the erection that had came back with a vengeance at that memory. Damned pout!

Precisely in that moment, a demon appeared from out of nowhere, tackling Buffy to the ground and quickly gaining the upper hand in the fight.

Spike kept watching from the sidelines, waiting for the Slayer to show the demon what she was made of. But after a particularly hard blow that sent the girl to the ground for the third time in a row, he just couldn’t stay away from the fight anymore. His demon was begging him to let it dispose of the adversary because he’d dared hurt what he considered his. Well, not his exactly, just his to kill. So without giving it any more thought and willing to endure the headache he would surely get, he hurled over the demon’s back grabbing his neck with both hands, hanging precariously as it tried to throw him off. Until finally the vampire got enough leverage to break its neck with a vicious growl, both of them falling to the ground.

Spike put his head between his hands as he pulled away from the demon, waiting for the splitting headache to appear, and when it didn’t, he thought, ‘Well, well, this certainly changes things.’ An evil smirk graced his vampiric features as he contemplated what he would do first now that the chip had stopped working. He glanced towards the girl that was still panting on the ground, trying to recover from the fight, and without thinking it twice, he threw himself at her, snarling and growling.

Buffy wasn’t sure what had happened, one moment she was fighting a demon she had never seen before and losing to it; then Spike, of all people, had come and saved her and after that said vampire had thrown himself at her. She’d never been so afraid for her life before, she’d fought him before but then she’d been in top form and now after fighting the other demon, she so wasn’t. Spike’s vicious growls and snarls froze her blood and she truly thought that this was it for her. God, her life had flashed before her eyes as she waited for the final blow. Until his growls had turned to screams as he pushed himself away from her to nurse his head in his hands.

She didn’t know what to do. One part of her was thankful to Spike for saving her ass by killing the freaky demon and the other was completely pissed off at him for daring to scare her like he had. ‘Wait a moment! Spike killed the demon and he didn’t get a headache? And then he attacked me and he did? Hmm, maybe the chip only works when he tries to hurt humans. Should I tell him?’ she asked herself. ‘Nah, let him suffer a bit, especially after trying to hurt you,’ a little voice within her answered. ‘Then again, this might be useful. If he’s able to defend himself from demons, then you won’t need to vamp-sit him, but maybe you should test it first.’ A wide smile appeared in her face, before she said, “Oh, Spikey, what happened? Did you suddenly turn impotent again?”

Spike snarled, not as viciously as before though, since he was still obviously in pain, regarding the Slayer’s overly bright smile and decided to give another try to kill her. Maybe the chip had had a little energy left in it and that was why it had tried to fry his brain again? ‘That has to be it, just one last hurrah for the damned chip. Nothing to worry about and I’m definitely not going to waste this chance of getting rid of her now the chance’s been handed to me in a silver platter,’ he thought before launching himself at Buffy once more, only to fall down in front of her, screaming in pain once more.

Buffy giggled at first, and then unable to contain herself, she exploded in full out laughter. “Oh-oh, G-god!” She panted, trying to catch her breath as she laughed. “You…you’re just too easy.”

Spike looked at her from the ground, furious because she was making fun of him. Who did the crazy little bint think she was to be making fun of him?

“Soo, what? Do you want me to spell out what just happened here or…oh, I know, maybe we could play the ‘Wheel of Fortune’? Does the wittle vampy know how to pway?” She giggled.

“Oh, God, don’t tell me you’re turning into Harmony II?” he said, trying to fight back.

She pouted. “Okay, be that way, I won’t tell you now.”

‘Oh, no, not the pout again, not now when the splitting headache is still impairing my senses!’ He exhaled heavily. “Okay, okay, you win, please, Sla—” he stopped himself at the seething look she threw him. “Please, Buffy, love, tell me?” He pouted for good measure, smiling softly when he noticed her look softened.

“’Kay, but just because you asked sort of nicely,” ‘and because it will be very helpful not to be around you all the time, especially with these damned memories coming back at the most inconvenient times,’ she added to herself. “It seems your chip only works when you want to hurt humans.”

“Come again?”

“Well, let me explain it easier. Did you have a headache when you killed the demon?” He shook his head negatively. “But you got a headache when you tried to hurt me, are you following me here?” She smiled at the slightly dazed expression in the vampire as he slowly began to understand. ‘Maybe making him try to hurt me that second time was a little too much? Nah, he totally deserved it for scaring me out of my mind!’ she decided.

“So, as long as I only fight demons and not humans, I’ll be headache free?” She nodded. “Cool! Eh, I mean, that’s great,” he corrected when Buffy arched an eyebrow at him.

“Well, now we should go back to tell Giles about the recent developments; what do you think?”

“Alright, hopefully we’ll find a lot of demons in our way. I’m up for a little slaying, what do you say, Slayer? Are you game?”

Buffy couldn’t help but find him utterly adorable, his eyes all lit up like a kid in Christmas Day when he was about to open his gifts, so she nodded.

“You know what? We can tell Giles about it tomorrow; if we go now, I’m sure he will keep us there until sunrise and, to be honest, I’m not up for his boring brainy blah, blah, blah tonight. So, we’ll just keep patrolling for a bit. What do you say? Are you game?” she repeated, winking at the vampire, already knowing what his answer would be.

“Oh, pet, you’re the best mortal enemy a Master vampire could ask for!” He smiled fondly at her, a hint of adoration in his eyes that warmed her all over.

tbc

Chapter V

It was almost 2:00 a.m. when Buffy finally headed back to her home. Patrolling with Spike had taken longer than she’d thought it would and that was why she decided to go back to her house instead of her dorm room.

A soft smile lit her face as she recalled how endearing it had been to see him act like a kid who was having so much fun on his favorite ride in the fairground that he never wanted to stop. But after a little more than three hours, she had decided that it was time to stop patrolling and find him a decent crypt where he would spend the night.

She had to accept that it had been kind of fun to see Spike fight again, especially since this time he hadn’t been fighting her. It definitely was a sight to behold, from a fighter’s perspective, of course. It was not like she’d practically had to clean the drool from her mouth after Spike ditched the duster over a gravestone to fight a vampire or that she enjoyed watching how his muscles flexed under the tight t-shirt he wore or how his lithe body moved with panther-like grace as he played—yes, played, he had been enjoying it too much for it to be anything else—with the other vampire. Nope, that was just showing appreciation for a fellow fighter.

Oh God, she truly had to be tired if she was actually trying to convince herself that she hadn’t been checking Spike out!

She exhaled a relieved sigh when she finally arrived to her house. She climbed the tree located outside her room, jumped onto the windowsill and then went through the open window into her room. It was a good thing that she’d remembered to leave it open before she went out, otherwise she might have woken her mother up and she would have given her the reprimand to end all reprimands for the late hour she was coming back. That was the one thing she didn’t like from coming back home to sleep, her mother tended to forget she was out patrolling and not partying at the Bronze like any girl her age might be.

A few minutes later, after bathing and putting on her favorite pajamas, she was turning and tossing in her bed. She was tired, but something kept her up. She just couldn’t sleep knowing that she’d done something as foolish as that. So, she turned on the lamp on her night table and then she got up and padded towards the desk, determined to open the secret drawer, take her letter out, rip it in itty little pieces and never think about it again. But when she opened the drawer and took out the envelope, she gasped. It wasn’t the same she had placed there. Sure, the envelope was similar, but it was addressed to her not to ‘William’.

She had to pinch her arm to assure herself that she wasn’t dreaming, and after yelping a little at the pain, she realized that that wasn’t the case.

Not even for one single moment did she thought that it could be a joke.

First of all, no one knew about the letter she’d found in the desk, not even her mother. Oh she’d tried to tell her, but her mom had been too busy sending her off on her little ‘rescue Spike mission’ to listen to her at that moment.

Second, she had recognized William’s beautiful handwriting on the envelope. This time he’d put her name on the envelope, hers, and she had never liked the name ‘Elizabeth’ as much as she did in that moment, as she saw it written elegantly in the envelope she held in her hands. The letter couldn’t be from anyone else but the man who had written the first touching letter and now she was just dying to read this one, because this time it was for her!

Third, and most important reason, she knew for sure that demons, vampires, witches and every other sort of magical creatures existed for real; so why shouldn’t she believe that there was a desk that could let her communicate with a man who lived more than a century ago?

She remembered the odd gust of wind that had invaded her room and surrounded her that afternoon after she read the poem, so she made a mental note about asking Giles about it at the first chance she got.

Deciding once and for all that this was really happening, she opened the envelope with trembling hands, unfolding the paper inside cautiously.

Her previous assumption had been right, it was a letter and everything inside her begged her to read it, so she did, with unusual eagerness.

‘Elizabeth,

How I wish that what I am presuming right now is possible, that somehow we would be able communicate with each other through this desk.

Your letter filled me with confusion at first, because how could it be? How could someone send me a letter from the future? Then that confusion turned into expectation that perhaps this is happening because it simply has to. Have you ever felt that something is meant to happen, Elizabeth? That it is stronger than you and you can not do anything else but follow your instincts? Because I do. No matter how much my common sense is screaming at me that I am nothing but a fool for answering to your letter and for believing in this, when I should be thinking that this must be some kind of cruel joke, I simply can not.

When I wrote the poem and the letter you read, I was not referring to anyone in particular. The words simply came from my heart and were written for a special lady I wished I could meet someday. I hope you do not judge me too forward for asking, but could it be you? Could it be that destiny is intervening to let us meet through time in a way that some might think impossible even if there is no chance of us ever meeting in person?

If you get this letter and I get an answer from you, I will be sure that this desk is letting us correspond through it and that somehow it will let us continue. And I will be waiting with baited breath until that time.

Yours,

William’

Buffy sighed dreamily, saying, “Oh, wow, William, you really know how to rock a girl’s world with your words.”

She moved back to her bed and after she found a comfortable position, she re-read the letter another three times, her eyes filling with happy tears and her heart beating faster each time. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her, he had answered to her. He had asked her if she could be the special lady he had written to. Oh, how she wished she could be, how she wished there was some way she could meet him. She didn’t know how this had happened, but it had, and she was definitely going to embrace the opportunity with open arms.

After a while, Buffy fell asleep with a big smile plastered on her face, holding William’s letter tightly to her heart as she thought that she would answer him in the morning.

* ~ * ~ *

“My dear William,” Buffy read out loud what she’d written so far, swinging her pen between her index finger and her thumb.

Now that she knew that he had received her first letter, she’d decided to use a pen instead of the dreaded quill. It was easier and more practical and she wouldn’t leave all those ink spots like she’d done the last time she had used it. It was truly a miracle he’d been able to understand anything she’d written then.

‘C’mon, Buffy, you can do much better than this. He melted your heart with his letter and ‘My dear William’ is all you’ve written so far? Okay, so maybe writing to a guy that lives in the past, but due to mysterious reasons can write back to you, is not something you do everyday, but try to concentrate!’ the blonde girl scolded herself, nibbling on her pen nervously.

She would have liked to talk with her mother about this, but she had already left when she woke up in the morning and she wouldn’t be back from the gallery until later that night.

Buffy had decided to stay home studying instead of going back to her dorm room that day; after all she could study better there since she had no distractions and had the added incentive of her desk, of course!

It was strange to think that just a week ago she could hardly wait to go back to campus, mostly because she would see Riley there. But all thoughts of Riley Finn, T.A. extraordinaire, all around normal guy and until last week, possible love interest, had flown completely away from her mind, to the point that it was almost as if he’d never existed. All she could think about now was a still faceless William and how romantic he was, and the never welcomed memories of the fateful day she spent engaged to Spike and that kept surfacing when she least expected, even if she kept trying to suppress them in any possible way she could.

So, after deciding that she had done enough studying for that day, she had resolved to something she knew she would really enjoy, answering to William’s letter.

Although it wasn’t easy to concentrate on that after all she’d found out the previous night.

Number one: She wasn’t as unbeatable as she’d thought. It seemed that being a Slayer wasn’t enough sometimes and finally she’d learnt that after finding an enemy so much stronger than her. She hadn’t felt so close to dying in a long time, and that death would’ve probably been much closer if Spike hadn’t intervened.

And that had led to discovery number two: Spike’s chip didn’t work with demons, so now he could deal with them on his own, and that was such a relief for her. She grimaced in horror at the thought of having to spend time with him every night. That would be just horrible... no matter if her body seemed to think different!

And then, the third discovery, the most pleasant and amazing of last night: She had one more reason to love her new desk, because it seemed to be magical and have the capacity of somehow allowing her and the mysterious William to exchange letters through time. And she had the odd feeling that that could only happen through the secret panel of the desk, why else would it be secret if it weren’t for that?

‘But if you don’t continue writing yours, you won’t be exchanging letters with him any time soon!’ the blonde reprimanded herself. She was about to start writing again when the phone rang.

“Geez, how could anyone pretend I concentrate if they keep interrupting me?” she grumbled, picking up the phone.

“Hello?” she said, her voice laced with annoyance.

“What the hell were you waiting for before telling me that you almost died last night? You thought that it wasn’t important enough to let your Watcher know?” A very annoyed Giles snapped at her. “I expect you to come to my house immediately!” he told her, hanging up the phone without giving her the chance to answer.

Buffy was left listening to a busy signal on the other side of the phone, while she tried to imagine what had that been about, but the one thing she knew was that she couldn’t waste any time, not when her Watcher was in that kind of mood.

“Sorry, my dear William, sacred duty comes first and you’ll have to wait!” she sighed, taking the piece of paper from the desk and putting it inside her night table. After all, she couldn’t leave it anywhere near the secret panel, otherwise he might receive her very incomplete letter.

She sighed once more and grabbed her jacket, leaving in a hurry.

She was on her way to Giles’ house when she began replaying the strange phone conversation on her mind.

‘Wait a minute! If I didn’t tell anyone about what happened last night, how can Giles know?’

And finally it hit her and she began running towards her Watcher’s house. She was so going to kill him!

* ~ * ~ *

Buffy knocked on the door insistently, and when Giles opened up, she rushed inside, without even acknowledging him. She headed straight towards the living room, and just as she thought, she found Spike there, sitting on the armchair, welcoming her with one of his cocky smirks.

“What the hell are you doing here? It’s not even sunset!” she yelled at him.

“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s cloudy enough outside for me to wander without turning into a Spike flambé. So I was out and about and I passed by and thought it would be nice to pay a visit to dear old Rupert,” he responded.

“Yeah, right. And of all the things you two could chat about, you chose to tell him about last night!” she accused him.

“I just said...”

“We were supposed to tell him about that together!” she whined, but Spike promptly look anywhere else, before he could see the dangerous pout that would surely follow.

“Please, do go on; don’t mind me, after all I’m just the owner of this house!” Giles grumbled, rolling his eyes at the pair, as he watched them—or rather as he watched Buffy, since the vampire hadn’t been able to say much—argue, from the threshold.

“Anyway, Buffy, Spike only told me that you had been in a life-threatening situation last night, and after that I immediately called you,” he explained.

“Oh,” she said flatly, almost regretting that she’d attacked Spike so harshly. Almost, since she was sure that before the visit was over, the vampire would have done something to deserve that attack anyway. “So what did you two do while you waited for me?” she wondered, but her two interlocutors kept silent.

And then, she glanced towards the kitchen, seeing a teapot, two cups and a plate with cookies over the table. “What? Did I end up in some alternate dimension where you two are best friends?” she commented surprised.

“No way! You know... it’s just that we both are Englishmen and tea is always tea,” Spike justified.

“Let’s just say that the need for tea is stronger than our mutual hate,” Giles added.

“I can understand tea, but what about the cookies? Or did you forget you’re a vampire?” she asked Spike.

“One of these days, you’ll have to repeat the whole taste speech to her!” Spike winked at Giles conspiratorially.

“So, Buffy, tell me, what happened last night?” Giles wondered, he was curious as hell since the vampire had refused to give him more information than saying that Buffy had been involved in a life-threatening situation.

“Well, the Slayer and I were walking through a graveyard, when a demon appeared out of the blue and smashed her to the ground, starting to punch her. She tried to hit him back, but couldn’t. It was kind of weird if you ask me. I kept waiting for her to begin beating the crap out of it. But after the third blow, she started whining and crying desperately: ‘Spike, please, show me how powerful you are and save me. And then I swear I’ll do whatever you want!’ So, mate, what can a man do after such a request?” the bleached vampire said before Buffy couldn’t even begin talking.

“Buffy!” Giles exclaimed with a disappointed tone.

“What? Don’t tell me that you believed him?” she replied, more than a little insulted that her Watcher could believe the lies the vampire had just said.

“So, how did things really go then?” he turned to her.

“Well, if you take off the part where I begged him to help me, the rest is as close to the truth as Spike can get. Spike rescued me because...” she stopped, and then she narrowed her eyes at the vampire. “Spike, why did you rescue me?” she asked him.

“Yes, Spike, why did you rescue her?” Giles asked him with the same puzzled expression his Slayer wore.

‘Yeah, Spike, why did you rescue her?’ the vampire asked himself, much more puzzled than them.

“Well, it’s pretty clear. I rescued her because if someone is going to have the bloody pleasure of killing her, it’s going to be me!” he justified with an evil smile.

“Awww, that’s so sweet from you! You really know how to melt a girl’s heart!” she commented sarcastically as she thought of someone who could melt her heart for real.

But was that the real reason why he’d rescued her? Spike mused, preferring not to keep asking himself that question. One never knew what answer he might get.

“In fact, once I killed the demon, pretty easily I might add and without my chip giving me a hell of headache, I thought I was finally free, so I tried to kill the Slayer. C’mon, love, tell him that I tried to kill you!” he added.

“Spike tried to kill me...” she said flatly.

“Twice!” the vampire pointed out.

“Twice,” she repeated, rolling her eyes.

Anyway, even if he’d had the chance, would he have killed her? That was another thing that he didn’t want to ask himself.

“Wait a minute. What does it mean that your chip didn’t work with that demon?” Giles wondered confusedly.

“Geez, is it so hard to figure? Spike’s chip doesn’t work with demons, he can hurt them as much as he pleases,” Buffy explained.

“Fascinating,” Giles commented, caressing his chin with his hand.

“Yeah, and I have this sudden urge to fight Evil, protect people and be a bloody hero, I want to do it for Christmas’s sake, for the kids, the puppies, and...”

“Oh, shut up, you only want to do it to indulge your killing nature!” Buffy struck back.

“You read me like an open book, pet!” He sneered in delight.

“Returning to last night; Buffy, did you really have that much trouble fighting against that demon?” Giles asked her.

“Yes, it was almost as when you took away my powers due to that stupid test...” Buffy admitted.

“What test was that? You were as weak as a lamb and I wasn’t informed?” Spike wondered astonished.

“First, you weren’t in town when it happened. And second, you already had your chance once that Halloween when we turned into our costumes and you failed. Opportunities like that happen only once in a lifetime... well, un-lifetime in your case,” she pointed out, smiling at the sight of his disappointed pout.

“Buffy, can you describe that demon to me?” Giles asked her.

“Sure, he was tall... no, wait, maybe he was short, and was all black... or was it grey? And...” she stopped, keeping silent for a moment. “I don’t remember,” she admitted, desolated.

“What? A demon almost killed you and you don’t remember anything about him?” he scolded her.

“Hey! Freud or some other guy like him says that when you have a big shock your memories can be blocked. So... I must have blocked them!” she justified.

“Don’t you even remember any particular details?” he insisted.

“Nothing,” she sighed dejectedly.

“That’s not good; I can’t do any research on this demon if you don’t help me...”

“Can I say something?” Spike intervened.

“If you want to mock us about this… c’mon, Spike, have your fun!” he rolled his eyes.

“Actually, I wanted to say that the demon was tall, over six feet tall, purple with white eyes, three to be exact. About the particular details, I picked the ones that might help you the most, ‘cause the demon in question had four arms, a corn in the middle of his forehead and a fin on his back, too,” Spike finished, amazing the Watcher with the details he’d remembered.

“And you couldn’t remember that?” he turned to Buffy in disbelief.

“Shocked. Blocked it all,” she defended herself.

“Well, Ripper, I guess that you already imagined that that very important info wasn’t for free,” Spike pointed out with a smirk, stretching his upturned hand towards the Watcher.

“I should have known better!” Giles muttered, searching inside his wallet and handing the vampire some bills before he began skimming through the pages of one of his books. “Dear Lord! It’s just what I was afraid of...” he commented, once he found the page he was looking for.

“What do you mean?” Buffy wondered, starting to get worried. She didn’t like his alarmed tone. It never brought anything good for her.

“What? Is an apocalypse coming soon?” Spike asked hopefully.

“Worse, much worse. Buffy, the demon you faced was a Frakor demon... and I was sure they were extinct!” Giles explained.

“Well, that one seemed to be anything but extinct!” Buffy commented. “So? Do I need a special training to fight it if I ever find another one?” she asked.

“You should be wishing that you’ll never find another. They are immune to a Slayer’s attack, so you can’t do anything against them. And they are feared by many other demons, because they are almost invincible,” Giles explained.

“You’re kidding, right? It took me less than a minute to snap his neck, so where the hell is its so much feared immunity?” Spike asked in disbelief.

“That’s why I said ‘almost’. Truth is that vampires are the only ones that can kill them!” Giles informed him.

“Really? Well, well, it seems that I was at the right place, at the right time!” he smirked smugly at Buffy.

“And until we are not completely sure that there aren’t any more of those demons around, you’re not safe patrolling on your own, Buffy,” Giles made her notice and she nodded in concern.

“Well, since I’m the only one who can kill them, I guess I could be pretty useful to you, Slayer, in case you find another one. I don’t think that any other vampire in town would be willing to do such a big favor to you, but I could... for fifty bucks a night!” Spike said, turning to the Watcher as he put Giles’ previous reward for his info inside his duster’s pocket.

“Fifty? Forget it. I won’t give you anything more than ten!” Giles protested.

“Thirty five!” Spike suggested.

“Twenty five, and that’s my last offer!” Giles answered.

“Deal!” the vampire sneered.

“What? I can’t believe that you accepted!” Buffy exclaimed.

“Well, Buffy, it’s not only for that. Since you started College, your patrolling has been less than stellar, so I imagine that some help won’t damage you, quite the contrary! After all, Spike can’t hurt you...” Giles made her notice.

“Yeah. Thanks for reminding me that!” Spike growled, pissed off.

“So, I’m being punished... because I’m dedicating too much time to studying? Dammit, this is so unfair!” Buffy grumbled. “And why does he have to get paid, while I...”

“Don’t start with that again, Buffy. It’s your sacred duty, you’re the Chosen One and you can’t escape from your destiny. On the other hand, Spike is going against his nature and since he will be helping you, all the other demons around will see him as a traitor, so he’s risking a lot here... and that’s why I must give him a... uh... incentive!” Giles justified.

“Right. Plus, do you have any idea about how much does pig blood cost? Bloody hell, butchers are the real bloodsuckers!” Spike grumbled.

“Well, being the Chosen One sucks even worse!” Buffy snapped, crossing her arms at her chest.

“Well, sweetheart, just wait for me to take this sodding chip off my head and I’ll be more than glad to help you quit!” Spike winked at her.

‘One way... or the other. Bloody hell, what am I thinking? And for the record, you’re bloody flirting with her once again, stop it!’ he scolded himself.

“Although I appreciate the concern, especially coming from you; no thanks, I’ll keep my job. But please, find a way to take off that chip soon, since I can’t wait to dust you good and proper!” she answered, winking back at him.

‘Geez, am I really flirting with him? I must be feverish! Too much study, that’s it!’ she observed.

“You don’t know what you’re missing...” the vampire singsong.

‘What bloody part of ‘stop flirting’ you didn’t get?’ he reminded himself.

“Whatever, we’ll meet at the graveyard tonight, at 9:00, and be on time!” he instructed her, leaving before he ended up disgracing himself.

After saying goodbye to Giles, Buffy also left, a storm of thoughts swirling inside her head.

‘I’m so relieved for not having to be Spike’s vamp-sitter anymore... but now Spike’s turning into my own Slayer-sitter… that’s so humiliating... and so damn unfair! Now I’ll have to spend all that time with him, fighting side by side, every single night...’

So, why wasn’t she more upset for that? Having to spend time with Spike was bad or wasn’t it? She preferred not to answer that question.

When she had arrived home, her mother hadn’t returned yet, so she had time to write back to William, hopefully without any more interruptions. She finally knew how to complete her letter.

TBC

Chapter VI

Buffy re-read her letter before putting it inside the envelope and addressing it ‘William’.

She sighed dreamily as she put the envelope inside the drawer and closed it. Was it crazy to feel like this for someone she hadn’t even seen once? Maybe it was, maybe she was crazy, but she couldn’t, she wouldn’t stop it. She’d faced death every single night since she was called at fifteen and dammit, she deserved to live this dream at least.

*flashback*

“Giles, did you see my ring?” Buffy asked after sharing the umpteenth kiss of the evening with Spike.

“Thankfully, not very well,” Giles answered, before leaning back and rubbing his eyes.

She got up from Spike’s lap and went to sit beside Giles on the sofa. “I'm not crazy, and I know that you probably don't approve, and my father's not that far away, I mean, he could… but this day is about family… my real family… and I would like you to be the one to give me away.”

“Oh, Buffy! That's... that's so...” Giles began, touched by her words, before remembering what her comment was about. “Oh! For God's sake! This is nonsense. Something is making you act this way. Don't you realize what you're doing?”

Buffy smiled softly and looked back at Spike. “Living a dream.”

*end flashback*

‘Wait a minute, that hadn’t been living a dream, that had been living a nightmare!’ she tried to convince herself, but her heart—that had increased its rhythm with the memory—didn’t seem to agree with her mind. And finally also her mind surrendered to her heart’s opinion. That had been a dream. End of the (inner) speech.

She sighed again, why couldn’t she forget about Spike and that day? The memories continued to come back to her over and over and in the most inconvenient times, too. Even now when she was feeling all this wonderful new things for William she still couldn’t forget about Spike and his kisses, his caresses, how well they seemed to fit together… Nope, not going there again. Argh! Why the hell couldn’t she forget? ‘Maybe because you don’t want to forget?’ a little voice inside her asked and just as she was thinking how could she answer that, she heard her mother’s car parking outside.

‘Perfect, just the person I was waiting for. I’ll really go crazy if I don’t have anyone with whom I can talk about William and mostly I’ll go crazy if I don’t take my mind off those damned memories! And knowing how romantic my mom is, I’m sure she’ll love William as much as I’m starting to.’

* ~ * ~ *

Joyce entered her house, startled when she saw Buffy waiting for her sitting on the stairs. “Hi, honey, I thought you were going back to the dorm tonight?”

“Yeah, I was, but then I decided to stay here.”

“Ah, of course, and I imagine it has nothing to do with certain desk that you seemed very attached to?” she said coyly.

“No, it’s just that it’s closer to the cemeteries Spike and I will patrol in tonight.” Buffy rolled her eyes.

“Really? William is patrolling with you tonight? Does that mean that his house arrest has been lifted?

“Oh, please, mom, as if you had any doubt it will, after the threat you issued I just had to get him out.” Buffy noticed that her mother was studying her and began to feel self-conscious. “What?”

“Are you going to patrol dressed like that?” the woman said, pointing at the very old and torn blue jeans and the plain T-shirt she was wearing.

“What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?” the blonde wondered, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

“Well, honey, you can look much better than this. After all, tonight you will be patrolling with a guy, and this way it seems that you don’t care...”

“Okay, let me clear up a pair of things to you. First, it’s patrol, not a date. Second, it’s Spike, not a guy. And for the record, it doesn’t just seem like I don’t care, I really don’t!” Buffy answered, but somehow she hadn’t sounded as resolute as she’d wanted.

Which was painfully obvious by the fact that Joyce kept staring at her in disbelief.

“Mom, do you think that my black pants with the nice new green shirt I bought last week will be better?” she wondered, not believing she was doing this for real.

“That’s my daughter!” Joyce smiled fondly, nodding in total agreement.

‘Oh my! I went to Giles’ house dressed like this before!’ the girl thought alarmed. ‘So what? Who cares? I could have gone there even naked… uh, no... bad, terribly bad idea...’ She shook her head, trying to make the hot consequences that that could have brought and that she was picturing in her mind go away. Somehow in those images there was no Giles, only Spike and her and…

“So…where’s William living now?”

Once again, Buffy was thankful to Joyce for bringing her back to reality.

“Huh? Well, Spike found a crypt at Restfield Cemetery,” Buffy corrected her mother. She really didn’t like that name to be associated to the unbearable vampire. She wondered why but that gave her an odd tingly feeling.

“A crypt?” Joyce repeated, almost horrified by the idea.

“And before you get any crazy ideas of bringing him here, I’ll tell you that he’s quite happy with it.”

“Hmph, so you say.”

“Really, mom, it’s not such a bad place. It even has a lower level and he has all these ideas of how to fix it. It’s a five stars crypt, compared to the other crypts we saw it’s like a loft in the most expensive street in town!” she added, in order to persuade her mother.

“Okay, I’ll believe you…for now.” She frowned. “B-but isn’t he in danger there? Remember he can’t fight anyone.”

“Oh, I guess you should have worried about that before threatening your only daughter.” She smiled evilly before continuing, “But you shouldn’t worry about that, we discovered yesterday at patrol that Spike can fight demons. It’s just humans he can’t hurt.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I wouldn’t want anything bad happening to William.”

Buffy rolled her eyes after hearing that name again, but then decided to let it go. After all she knew that it was a lost battle.

“Speaking of William’s, I have something to show you.” Buffy handed her mother the two envelopes that contained William’s letters and his poem.

Joyce looked at her, curiosity drawn in her face, but instead of asking Buffy what was inside, she sat on the staircase beside her and took the first letter out of the envelope and began reading.

* ~ * ~ *

London, December 7th, 1880

William felt the anxiousness creeping upon his skin as never before as he opened for what had to be the hundredth time just in the last hour the secret drawer where he’d found Elizabeth’s letter. And still nothing!

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed as he caught his thumb in the drawer in his hastiness to close it. His eyes widened as he covered his mouth with his hand, surprised by his bluntness and thanked his lucky stars that his mother wasn’t there to listen him. If it had been such a shock for him, he could only imagine how she would react.

Where had that come from? And as long as he was asking himself that, he might also ask when had he turned into the impatient, less introverted and a whole lot more confident person that currently inhabited his body, because he hardly recognized who he was turning into anymore. He’d always taken pride on his patience and now it seemed he couldn’t be still for more than a few minutes in a row. Now the confidence thing was a definite improvement though, maybe knowing that someone could care for him and his words as Elizabeth seemed to do was what did it?

And his mother had noticed this change, too. She hadn’t said anything to him yet, but he could tell by the way she looked at him during dinner that she was just waiting for the opportunity to talk to him about it.

He opened the drawer again pleased when he finally found what he’d been waiting for. He held his breath as he took the letter out of the drawer and opened the envelope, exhaling a relieved sigh when he began reading.

‘My dear William,

You have no idea how astonished I was when I opened the secret panel again and found your letter inside the drawer, instead of mine. This is the kind of thing that only happens in fables, the ones with charming princes, damsels in distress, dragons, fairies and every sort of spells, just like the ones my mom used to read to me when I was just a little girl.

So now it seems that thanks to a mysterious desk we both own, this lonely Princess from the future can communicate with you, my charming Prince from the past, who already owns a piece of my heart... and I don’t even know who you are or how you look like! But I’m pretty sure that if you are even half as beautiful as what you write... my oh my, you must be gorgeous!

Anyway, I think that whatever there is going on between you and me is beyond the superficial physical aspect and stuff like that. It’s a bounding of souls, our souls, and I have the feeling that it’s going to increase with every letter we exchange. And I am more than willing to let it happen.

Believe me, the life I’ve led has helped me understand that anything is possible, good or bad stuff, although in my experience it’s been mostly bad. And that’s why it’s so amazing for me to finally be able to believe in something so marvellous, captivating and unique.

I guess after all I wrote you can already imagine what my answer to your question if I could be that special lady is, but if there is any doubt, it’s a resounding YES!

Can’t wait until your next letter arrives.

Yours, Elizabeth ’

“Yours, Elizabeth,” William repeated, savoring those two words in his mouth. “Mine. Yes, even if it’s just through our letters, that’s what you are.”

He was about to take some paper from the upper drawer when he heard a knock on his door. “Come in,” he said.

“William, are you all right?” his mother asked as soon as she entered the room.

“Yes, Mother, I am, in fact I don’t think I’ve ever felt better in my life.” He smiled at her. “Why?”

“Hmm, well, since you didn’t go to the Addams’ party, I thought you might be ill,” she said, still not fully convinced that her son was as well as he said. “Why didn’t you go if you aren’t sick, did they do anything bad to you?”

“No, Mother, I just felt like staying home today,” he replied.

“I just thought that…never mind, Son, have a good night.” Anne moved towards her son and gave him a kiss on his forehead.

He took a deep breath after she began walking back to the door. ‘Should I tell her? Maybe not everything, but a little bit?’ he wondered, deciding that it was the right thing to do.

“Mother?”

“Yes, darling?” She turned back to face him.

William cleared his throat. “Hmm, do you believe in destiny?”

“Yes, I do.” She smiled warmly at him. “Why?”

“I’ve met a girl.” He blushed at his mother’s hopeful expression. “Well, not exactly met her, but…” he rattled his mind thinking of how to tell her about Elizabeth, how much was too much?

“Hmm, you see…Ralph Matthews, you remember him?” She nodded; he was one of William’s best friends in College and lived in the Highlands in Scotland. “He has a cousin, Elizabeth, and h-he thought it would be a good idea if we corresponded. He thought we might…eh, like each other and well, even if we’ve just met through our letters, I-I feel like she could be the one.”

“The one?” Anne asked, more than a little curious over this mysterious girl that seemed to have captured her son’s attention so quickly.

Although all she knew about Elizabeth so far were her name and who her cousin was, Anne was already thankful to her because it seemed that corresponding with her had been more than enough incentive to keep her beloved son far away from Cecily Addams and the bad, very bad things that she was sure that that spoiled and unpleasant girl would eventually bring him with her unbearable attitude.

She’d never liked when William read her the poems he’d written for that girl, not because the poems were bad, because for her he was the best writer in the world, but because she knew they wouldn’t be received as he hoped they would be.

“Yes, the one woman that I could fall deeply in love with, even if we might never meet in person,” he added, his expression saddened. “But that isn’t the important part, the important part is that she feels the same way about me. She said that my poetry was beautiful and that my words are heartfelt a-and…”

“And I already love her for that,” Anne replied, her eyes full of happy tears. She’d prayed so long for her William to find someone like this Elizabeth girl, someone who was able to see how worthy he was and how much love he could give to someone willing to receive it, and it seemed her prayers had finally been answered.

* ~ * ~ *

Sunnydale, December 7th, 1999

“Oh, darling, these letters and the poem are just so romantic,” Joyce said, wiping a few tears that had rolled down her cheeks as she read.

“Yes, they sure are.” Buffy sighed dreamily. “I never dreamt that I’d meet someone like William. Well, not meet meet, but you know what I mean.”

Joyce turned towards her daughter with a frown in her face. “Buffy, you do realize that nothing can come out of this, don't you? I mean, I understand how you could be…hmm, crushing on someone as William Pratt, but he lives in the past, darling, and although I’ve seen many weird things happening since we live in Sunnydale, well, I think you should focus your attention on someone that's a little more...hmm, I don't know...available? Someone as our William, perhaps?”

“Our William? He might be your…eh, no, not yours, either, because that’s just ewww. Anyway, I don’t understand why you’re so fond of Spike. Have you not heard me going over and over all the times he’s tried to kill me?”

“Yes, I have, but it’s not like you haven’t tried to do the same before. And really Buffy, how many love stories have begun with two people who apparently couldn’t stand each other?” she made her notice.

“Well, Spike and I used to try to kill each other, I guess that’s slightly different from not standing each other!” she pointed out.

“Instead, for me it’s exactly the same thing, and I can guarantee that if you gave William half a chance he might surprise you.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, he would surprise me to death, maybe.”

“Okay, since it seems we will never agree on this, so let’s talk about something else.” Joyce said resigned. “So… you said that you found the letters in the desk?” Buffy nodded. “That’s strange; don’t you think that maybe you should tell Mr. Giles about this?”

“I was thinking the same thing. I’ll go over to his house before meeting Spike for patrol.”

“Don’t you have something to do before leaving?” Joyce wondered expectantly.

“I guess I have to change my clothes, right?” she rolled her eyes, getting up from the staircase.

“That sounds great, honey. Oh, can you tell William if maybe he can go to the gallery tomorrow?”

“Why?” Buffy asked, as she headed towards her room, suspicious of her mother’s motives.

“Well, it’s not of your business, young lady, but I want to give him a few pieces of furniture I’ve had in storage for a while now. Even if he’ll be living in a crypt, it doesn’t need to look like one, you know?”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll tell him, otherwise you might threaten me with taking the desk away again,” she half-joked, disappearing in her room and coming back a quarter of an hour after, wearing the outfit she had previously planned.

“It makes me happy to realize I have such a smart daughter,” Joyce said, smiling evilly. “And you look so beautiful, as soon as William sees you, he...”

“O-kay. I think I better go to Giles’ house before this conversation turns even weirder than it is now,” she said, walking to the front door. “I’ll try not to make too much noise when I come back, mom.” And after throwing her mom a kiss, she left.

But deep inside, she was glad that she looked beautiful with that outfit. Hopefully someone else would think so too, and that someone was definitely not her Watcher, of course!

tbc

Chapter VII

“And you didn’t saw the need to tell me any of this before, especially after what happened with the Frakor demon yesterday?” Giles asked exasperatedly, after Buffy finished telling him about the letters.

“Trauma, Freud, blocked, ringing any bells yet?”

“I don’t understand how you can be so flippant about these things, Buffy. You almost died yesterday.”

“Believe me, Giles, I’m painfully aware of that.” She grimaced, and boy, if she wasn’t, she still was sore after the beating the damned demon gave her. “But, really, do you think there might be a connection between that demon and William’s letters?” she finished, throwing him a pointed look as she bit her lower lip to restrain herself from shouting at her Watcher, ‘How could you even think that? There’s absolutely no way that something, or rather someone, as sweet and pure as William could be associated with a horrible thing as that demon!’

“Well, how could I be sure if I haven’t even seen the letters?”

“I wasn’t about to endanger them, Giles,” she explained, as if talking to a small child. “I have patrolling with Spike afterwards and can you imagine what could happen to them then? I couldn’t risk it.”

“You could have left the letters here so I could study them and come back later or tomorrow to pick them up.”

She looked at him as if he had said something sacrilegious. “Never! If you want to read them, fine. I’ll bring the letters with me tomorrow, but I won’t let them out of my sight for even one minute, capisce?”

Giles rolled his eyes at her and sighed, nodding and deciding to change the tone of the conversation. They weren’t going anywhere like this. “So you say that this 1880’s man is communicating with you through your desk?” Giles said, taking off his eyeglasses to polish them with his handkerchief. “Hmmm, interesting.”

“Interesting?”

“Yes, quite fascinating in fact. And it seems that only the secret panel is affected by this?” She nodded, not sure where her Watcher was going with this. “Hmm, we could be dealing with some sort of time portal. Of course I’ll need to examine the desk,” he rolled his eyes again at the protective vibes emanating from his Slayer at his suggestion, “under your constant supervision, of course.”

‘And you better believe it will be under my supervision and don’t even think for an instant that I’ll let you take the drawer away to examine it, either. Because if you even try... Oh, my poor Watcher, I wouldn’t envy your painful fate...’ she thought, but her answer was very different from what she’d been thinking of course, although her eyes held a clear threat to Giles so he would know that she wouldn’t let any harm come to her desk or the letters. “Fine, whatever you want so you can make sure that William is not some demon going after me, but a true gentleman, that well, hopefully is going after me.” She smiled dreamily.

“Hmm, right.” He cleared his throat, uncomfortable with this new revelation of how smitten his charge was with this William Pratt. “Weren’t you meeting Spike for patrol?”

“Oh, yes, I do.” She glanced at the clock on one of the walls, noticing that it was a quarter ‘til nine. “And I’m late already. I’ll have to run to get to Restfield now.” She pouted and Giles relented.

“I can give you a ride if you wish.”

“Would you?” She smiled brightly, at least now she wouldn’t be all disheveled when she met Spike. Not that she cared of how she looked, but one never knew who they could meet in the way. ’Yeah, right, Buffy, keep telling yourself that and maybe some day you’ll start believing it,’ she thought as she followed Giles to his car.

* ~ * ~ *

“Err, Buffy, I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now, but between the Frakor demon and now the letters, well, I’d sort of forgotten,” Giles said a little while later, without taking his eyes from the road.

“What? You know you can tell me anything, Giles. Well, anything within reason of course, nothing to do with my mom or any of those band candies memories, please? I still have nightmares about that.” She shuddered visibly.

“Ha-ha, you’re hilarious. But really, well, I’ve been talking with Quentin Travers, you do remember him?”

“As if I could ever forget the little rat!”

“I think you might have to change that opinion of him if he turns into your employer.”

“Employer?”

“Yes, since Faith is, well… unavailable at the moment, I might have implied that if you weren’t paid for your services as the Slayer they might find themselves Slayer-less and then they would have to wait until any of you…”

“I get the picture, continue.”

“Right. I told them that I could convince you not to quit, provided they agreed on giving you a decorous salary and they reinstated me as your Watcher, of course.”

“Of course.”

“So, he said that he’d consult it with the other members of the Council, but I’m quite sure that he will end up agreeing,” he said as he parked outside Restfield Cemetery, which was really good timing because at the next second he had his arms full of a very happy Slayer.

“Oh, Giles, you’re the best Watcher/surrogate dad a girl could ask for!” she said enthusiastically. “When will we know?”

“Hmm, this week most likely,” Giles replied, uncomfortable with the girl’s effusive display of affection. “Err, look at the time, you should go or who knows what kind of damage Spike might do.”

“Oh, you’re right, I better go now. Thanks again, Giles!” She blew him a kiss and jumped out of the car.

“Oh, dear Lord, what have I gotten myself into!” he asked, dreading her reaction when the Council granted his petition.

* ~ * ~ *

Spike kept throwing side glances at the obviously very happy girl walking by his side. He wasn’t sure what had happened—not that he minded that much, she was being nice to him after all—but damned if he wasn’t awfully curious as to what could make her that happy so he could do it ag… ‘Argh, no! What the bloody hell is wrong with me? As if I didn’t have enough problems trying to control my attraction to the sodding chit, now I’m thinking of ways to make her happy? No, no, no!’ He pouted.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked instead.

“Wrong?”

“Yeah, something’s gotta be wrong for you to be smiling like a bloody robot.”

“Hmph, not that it’s any of your business, but I got pretty good news recently, so that’s enough to make me smile like a bloody robot,” she imitated his accent with terrible results, but not even that or Spike’s seemingly gloomy mood could put a damper on her good mood. How could it? She was going to have money to buy all the pretty things she wanted and that she could use for pat— Wait a minute not for patrol, for college, yep, that's what she’d been thinking. ‘Damn vampire! Now he’s making me doubt expressing my own thoughts to myself.’ She pouted.

‘Oh, no, no. That’s even worse than seeing her smiling. Think, Spike, think dammit!’ he groaned to himself. “Eh, so, care to share the good news?”

“Huh? Oh, no, not sharing or it might not come true. You’ll find out soon enough,” she said, throwing him a flirty smile.

“Right, don’t tell me you believe in all that rot?” He stopped walking, tilting his head as he tried to think of what it might be.

“Well, maybe, maybe not, but just in case I won’t say anything,” she said, clearly pleased with herself when she noticed that Spike was getting more curious by the minute. ‘Well, well, it seems that stakes and holy water aren’t the only way to torture a vampire...’ she observed pleased. After all, whatever troubled him, even if it was simple curiosity, it inevitably pleased her.

“Let me guess, you found a way to make the chip useless... no, wait... that's something that would make me smile like a bloody robot!”

“You're wasting your time if you think I will tell you. You won't get anything from me!” she pointed out.

“Nothing, really? And... are we still talking about your news?” he stepped closer to her, looking deeply into her eyes as she stared back at him, uncertainty at what was happening clearly defined in her green eyes.

‘He’s too close. Why is he so close? He seems to have suddenly slipped into predator mood, but for a different kind of hunt. And now he’s staring at me. Bad, very bad, Buffy, back off now!’ She was alarmed by his closeness, but found that her body refused to listen to her and it wouldn’t back off as she’d ordered.

He brought his hand up to her face to tenderly caress her cheek and threw Buffy even more out of balance. ‘Oh, God, why is he looking at me like that? Do I have something in my face? No, no, please, God, don’t let it be that, it would be awfully embarrassing if it is. Although if it were, he probably would have made sure to tell me so I would get embarrassed. So, why is he looking at me like this?’ she thought, unable to stop herself from asking, “What?”

“Huh?” he asked dazedly. He’d been so completely lost in the moment that even if his un-life depended on it he wouldn’t have been able to answer to whatever she’d asked. No, that wouldn’t do. He couldn’t lose himself in another woman, even if the woman was as beautiful as the Slayer. Nope, not this vamp, not again, not ever. “Err, you had something in your face?” he replied hesitatingly, taking his hand away from the temptation of her soft flesh.

“I did? What?” she said, blushing as she thought of the things she could have had in her face. Oh, God, could this be any more embarrassing?

“My hand,” he said; a bright smile showing in his face when he noticed how embarrassed he’d made her and how adorable she looked as she tried to understand his answer now. He knew perfectly well the moment when she finally did, as shame gave way to fury. Uh-oh, maybe he’d gone a little too far with this?
He wracked his brain trying to find something to distract her…Bingo!

“Say… isn’t that one of those Frakor demons?” he said pointing to something behind her back.

Buffy didn’t even think of checking if he was telling the truth before jumping and climbing onto the nearest available tree. “Are you sure?” she said, peeking from her perch on the highest branch that she could reach and that held her weight. No way was she up for a second round of ‘Beating up the Slayer’, especially not when she wasn’t fully healed from the first one.

“Stay there, I’ll go check!” he said, before disappearing in the darkness. After a little over ten minutes, that had felt like ten hours for Buffy, he returned.

“So?” she asked as soon as she saw him, not even attempting to climb down from the tree. No way was she going down until she was sure that the damned demon was dead. She was aware she came with an expiration date, but that didn’t mean that she wanted it to be anytime soon, especially not now.

“Well, it seems I might have been mistaken, that tree over there looks pretty much like the little bugger, wouldn’t you say?” he said, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing at how quickly she’d fallen for his trick... and for how long! Oh, God, this was too good! He wished he had a camera so he could have captured that moment forever.

”And did you have to wait all this time before telling me that you were wrong?” she snapped at him.

“Well, what can I say, that tree suits you, sweetheart,” he teased her. But then he saw the way her eyes narrowed at him and how her face darkened.

“Grrr, you never saw the damned demon, did you? You might have fooled me, but you’re so gonna pay for that!” she threatened before jumping from the tree.

‘Oh, fuck, do you have a death wish, mate? What were you thinking?’ He began running, followed closely by an enraged Slayer. Or rather, had he actually been thinking or just reacting as he tried to escape from the spell that her eyes were weaving? Because either way he’d be buggered as soon as she caught up with him.

He stopped when he suddenly realized that he couldn’t hear her running after him. He turned and extended his senses to try to figure where the Slayer was.

The sound of her heartbeat and her unmistakable scent hit him almost a second before he heard something rustling behind him. Fully aware of what he would find, he took a deep unneeded breath before turning back.

“Boo!” she said teasingly, before neatly sweeping his legs out with one of hers, making him lose his balance and fall to the ground, before straddling his waist to keep him in place. Weird, she should be at least a little mad with him after what he did to her, but instead she felt…exhilarated after the chase and the knowledge that she’d been able to be all sneaky and surprise him. His expression had been priceless; she wished she could have had a camera to capture the moment for posterity.

‘It would have been cool to show it to my friends, they would’ve enjoyed that. Or it would’ve been even cooler to show it to my kids one day... of course, that doesn’t mean that Spike would be their father! So why should I show the picture to them, then? And anyway, it’s not like vampires can have babies, can they? And even if they could, that’s so not the point! Damn you, Buffy, what the hell are you thinking? You don’t even know if vampires show on film. Oh, well, why dwell on…Ouch!’

“Boo!” he said from his new position as he hovered over her. Taking advantage of her distraction after she straddled him, he’d taken her by the waist and twisted his body to change their positions. The only thing he hadn’t taken into consideration was the precarious situation he’d found himself in when he did it. Because now he was nestled between the Slayer’s thighs, with their chests much closer than they had been when it had been her the one on top. He groaned and lowered his head to her shoulder, embarrassed—although he had no idea why—when little Spikey decided to show just how very much he liked the current situation he’d been placed in. Uh-oh, there was no way that she hadn’t felt that.

‘Oh, God, what the hell happened here? One minute I was on top straddling Spike and now…I’m…under him…getting…oh, no, no, no, this can’t be happening and what is…oh my, don’t tell me that’s…Oh God, oh God, oh God…’ She fought the urge to push against the bulge that was pressed against her increasingly moist center and that seemed to grow harder with each passing second.

‘Well, that’s just because I’m happy for the good news and...’ she tried to justify to herself. ‘So what? You mean you get aroused when you’re happy and allow any demon that’s close by to pin you on the ground like that? the annoying inner Buffy asked. Oh no, no, I’m so not...aroused—’ She couldn’t continue that train of thought as she shivered, overwhelmed by the sensation of being this close to Spike again.

He pulled up his head from her shoulder as soon as he smelled her arousal and felt the shiver that ran through her, looking at her flushed face in fascination. Bloody hell! Is she getting as aroused with this as I am? Maybe she… He lowered his head slowly, getting closer and closer to her, his lips just a breath away from hers.

‘Why haven’t I noticed how blue his eyes were before? … Oh, don’t lie, Buffy, you did notice before today. … Yeah, I did, but then I was under a spell… Oh, would you stop with the spell already? You liked him before that, and I’m not just talking about his eyes… What? No, I didn’t. You don’t know what you’re talking about. … Sure I don’t, keep telling yourself that. By the way have you heard of a pretty river in Egypt called The Nile, ‘cause it sounds awfully similar to what you’re doing… Uh-oh, tell me he isn’t… No, stop, I should stop him, I should… Oh, God, don’t stop, please don’t stop…’

‘Should I?’ he asked himself, looking from her eyes—that were looking back at him uncertainly—to her lips, that looked oh so very tempting at the moment. ‘But, what about not being love’s bitch anymore? To hell with that, to hell with everything,’ he decided before covering her lips with his, softly at first and then with increasing passion as she began responding to his kisses.

‘There must be a logical reason why this feels so right. Dru. Of course, that’s it. She reminds me of Dru… Yeah, right, because they are soooo alike! Vampiress vs. Slayer, brunette vs. blonde, violet eyes vs. green, moonlight vs. sunshine… Well, they are both women. Yes, that’s it, I knew they had something in common!’ Spike decided, proud of himself for finding a reason why he was doing this as he ran the tip of his tongue over her bottom lip and as soon as he felt her sigh, he plundered her mouth with it, moaning as he got lost in the taste of her.

Buffy felt as if she was in heaven as she closed her eyes, weaving her hands into his hair to pull him closer. ‘Mmmmm, the kissing part was so not part of a spell,’ she thought as his kisses elicited the same sensations inside her that they had that day. But, if that was true, what other things hadn’t been because of the spell? And just like that the haze Spike had created with his kisses lifted. Oh God, what the hell was she doing?

She pushed him away from her, immediately getting up from the ground as she walked backwards trying to get as far away from him as she could, holding a hand to her now slightly swollen lips, trying to think of something, anything to say. She knew she couldn’t stay there with him any longer as the temptation of continuing what they’d started kept growing inside her.

“Err, you know since there don’t seem to be any freaky demons around tonight, I guess we should split. You remain here, and I‘ll… go... in the opposite direction. We’ll meet... hmm, some other day, bye now,” she blabbered confusedly before she turned and ran away from him as fast as she could; while he remained on the ground looking at her disappear through the crypts wondering what the hell had happened.

* ~ * ~ *

London, November 8th, 1880

“I can not believe I’m this clumsy. Well, I can, but damn it! How could I drop the ink bottle over my entire paper stack? I should have answered Elizabeth’s letter by now, what if she thinks that I’m not interested anymore?” William scolded himself, passing his left hand over his already mussed hair as he hurried back to his house after buying a new lot of paper in the store, only to stop suddenly when someone blocked his way. He looked up to find the person, the woman, that only three days ago had occupied most of his thoughts and dreams. ‘What did I ever saw in her?’ He asked himself, staring blindly into her upturned face. ‘She’s not even that pretty to begin with.’

“William? Oh, this is such a surprise. We were just talking about you, we missed you at the party yesterday,” she said, batting her eyelashes coquettishly at him. She’d just been telling her friends that he turned into a blabbering mess when she did that and she wanted to demonstrate her power over him.

“Good morning, ladies,” he answered, nodding at them. “Hmm, if you excuse me…” He tried to walk away, but Cecily wouldn’t have that, how could she when the only thing he’d shown her so far was indifference? So she put her hand on his arm, smiling sweetly at him, sure that that would do the trick.

“Have you written any more poetry, William?” she asked, sugar dripping from her tone, noticing the paper on his hand.

“Yes, in fact I have.” He tilted his head, what was the bint trying to do? She’d never acted like this with him. And wait a minute, since when did he say bint?

“Is it for me?” She rubbed her hand over his arm, almost repenting from her action at the icy cold look he threw her.

“No, it definitely isn’t. And if you excuse me, I have important things to take care of.” He shook her hand from his arm as if it burned him and walked away, leaving Cecily blushing, completely embarrassed by his dismissal.

“It seems he’s not as fond of you as you thought, Cecily,” one of her friends said laughing, glad that she’d been there to witness the time when finally a man put the insufferable redhead in her place. “Quite the contrary.”

“Hmmph, this is far from being over! Before this month ends, William Pratt will be on his knees begging for my forgiveness. Mark my words!” Cecily said; holding her head high as she turned and walked back to her home to nurse her pride back to health.

tbc

Chapter VIII

Sunnydale, December 8th, 1999

“Rise and shine, honey, it’s a beautiful day!” Joyce exclaimed; opening the curtain’s in Buffy’s room and letting the sun in.

Buffy stirred lazily, and then she glanced at the clock on her night table. “But mom, it’s just 8:30 a.m. and I don’t have school today!” she protested, rolling to the other side and burying her head under the pillow.

“Yes, I know you don’t, but I have to go to the gallery and I can’t leave before you give me a detailed account on how last night went,” Joyce answered.

‘Grrr, you dared to wake me up just for that? Okay, mom, you want an account and an account it’s what you’re gonna get!’ Buffy decided, not happy by her mother’s actions.

“You know what? Actually I have to thank you for waking me up, because I just couldn’t wait to tell you...” she began, acting excited and cheerful all of the sudden.

“Tell me what?” the older woman wondered, hoping it was what she hoped it was.

“Well, you know, Spike and I patrolled last night and everything went fine, but then, just before returning home, we stared at each other and... oh, mom, we started kissing and we seemed unable to stop!” she continued as Joyce stared at her with a wide grin in her face. “So, we realized that we are meant to be together and... tonight he’s gonna take me out on a date,” she added with a dreamy smile in her face. ‘Ha! I can’t believe she’s buying all these lies! I’m a better actress than I thought I was,’ she thought to herself, proud of her acting skills and anticipating the moment that would be coming very soon.

“Oh, Buffy, that’s so wonderful; I was so sure that sooner or later you two—” Joyce exulted, but the blonde girl burst out laughing madly.

“Oh God, I can’t keep on with the charade any longer! It’s too funny! Geez, mom, I didn’t think you were so gullible,” Buffy said between laughs, before she paused with a frown. “Well, at least now I know whom I inherited that from!” she muttered.

“What? It was just a joke?” Joyce questioned, getting angrier and angrier.

“Of course it’s a joke, as if that could have ever happened. Really, mom, you should know by now that that will only turn into reality when hell freezes over!” Buffy stated.

‘You are aware that’s a lie, don’t you, Buffy? After all, there was a kiss and what a kiss it was, by the way! I’m still wondering why you stopped… What? You know why I stopped, it was the right thing to do, and you shouldn’t think about that anymore,’ she advised herself, facing her very angry mother. ‘And most importantly, mom must never ever know about that. If she did... oh God, I can already picture her planning the wedding, choosing the place where to held it, the cake and... Wait a minute, planning up our wedding, that brings back so many memories… Grrr, damn sodding spell! Couldn’t Will think of any other thing she wanted instead of me getting married with the bleached pest?’ she cursed in her mind, using one of Spike’s favorite words in the process, but she was too enraged to notice that. ‘You weren’t thinking he was a pest when he was kissing you last night or during the spell, so why now?’ the annoying little voice that seemed to be appearing in her thoughts more and more, asked. ‘Oh, shush you. No more thinking of him anymore, what part of that didn’t you— Oh, wait, mom is talking, what was this about? Oh, yes, mom’s favorite subject.’ Buffy rolled her eyes as her attention returned to her mother.

“Buffy, you know that it’s not very nice to play with your mother’s hopes and dreams. I thought I had raised you better than this,” the woman said obviously hurt, crossing her arms in front of her chest as she turned her back on her daughter and walked towards the door.

“Well, Spike thinks it’s nice to play with my poor heart... and by that I mean that he almost gave me a heart attack due to a scare!” she clarified, before Joyce really started planning up their marriage! “By the way, mom, I just don’t understand why you keep trying to set me up with Spike. Wasn’t the whole being a vamp issue the reason why you asked Angel to leave me?” She sat up on her bed waiting for an answer.

Joyce turned from the door to face Buffy once more, sighing heavily before answering, “That was just the tip of the iceberg, but, yes, that was the main reason.”

“Then, why do you want to set me up with Spike?”

“Oh, honey, how can I explain this?”

“Talking about it would be a good start. I’m listening,” she answered sarcastically, as Joyce wrung her hands while she tried to find the right words to express herself.

“You face dangers that I can’t even begin to imagine every night. I know, even if I try not to think about it, that sometimes you’ve seen death face to face and you probably will continue to do so in the future. I know that Slayers come with an expiration date, I just want that date to be as late as it can possibly be,” she explained.

“I understand that, mom, I do, no one is more aware than me about all that... but what does Spike have to do with this?” Buffy frowned.

Joyce sighed, shrugging. “I like him. And I know that deep down you do, too.”

“Sure, yeah, I like him just as much as…a penguin likes the desert!” Buffy responded.

“See? Two different parts of a coin, they just fit!”

Buffy almost fell over the bed. Huh? Her mother’s logic could be scary sometimes. “Nothing fits, especially not Spike and me and now continue with your ‘Gazillion reasons why I should like Spike’ show, because so far I’m not convinced!” Buffy struck back.
“I’m aware that you think that because he doesn’t have a soul he can’t love, but he can, maybe even more so than many ‘soulful’ beings can. We’ve had several conversations and I think I’ve gotten to know him pretty well, he’s allowed me to be closer to him than anyone has been in a hundred years and that’s why I know that he’s so much more than what his rough exterior lets on. He can love with all of his un-beating heart and by the way he refers to you sometimes and that certain something I’ve seen in his eyes, something deep...”

“Yeah, the desire to bag his third Slayer!” Buffy cut her off.

‘Well, yesterday he almost took your life away... with his kisses. Mmmm, if you hadn’t stopped…no, bad Buffy, erase the damned thing from your damned mind!’ she scolded herself.

“No, honey, that’s not it.” Joyce smiled softly. “It’s so much more than that. Spike…well, he loves with all that he is, he’s loyal and fiercely protective of those he loves and forgive me, darling, but as your mother, that’s what I want for you. I want someone that can be all those things for you, someone that won’t leave you when the first obstacle comes along. Okay, so Spike is not exactly Prince Charming material, he’s more than a little rough around the edges, and he’s a vampire. Definitely not what I’ve dreamt for you all these years, but I’ve learned that we don’t always get what we dream for our children and that even if we do, those dreams can turn into nightmares. Ever since you told me that you were a Slayer and I discovered all that that entails, well…I’ve had to accept that you’ll never have a normal life, because how could you when you have to patrol nightly and stop apocalypses every few months? But that doesn’t mean that I don’t want you to be happy and I know that if you gave William half a chance he could make you happy, plus now that he can actually fight demons he can help you patrol and with his aid hopefully that expiration date will come many years into the future. So, yeah, forgive your mother for wanting what I think it’s best for you.”

“Wow, your justification for wanting Spike and me together is breathtaking and I really thank you for wanting that for me,” Buffy said, visibly touched by her mother’s speech. “Too bad that in your dream date agency you happened to forget a tiny and yet not too irrelevant detail,” she paused for effect. “Spike hates me and wants to see me six feet underground, preferably dead!”

‘Yes, and kissing you is the best way to prove his hate for you, isn’t it, Buffy? … Oh, God, what had we decided about that memory? Geez, if this keeps happening, for my birthday I’ll just ask for a lobotomy, that’ll surely help.’ She sighed.

“Spike does? Not you, then!” Joyce glanced at her hopefully, as happy as if she were a detective who just found the final clue she needed to solve the mystery that she’d been working on for months.

“God, mom, please stop with that already. You know that’s so not what I meant. Now that you know what he really wants, you should realize that it’s not such a good idea for me to have him around, so you shouldn’t be so relieved by that. He’s not exactly what you’d call a gentleman and he almost gave me a heart attack with his stupid, very stupid, joke. Plus, fresh news, mom, don’t you know that he’s been doing all this stuff just for money?” she informed the older woman, sure that now she would see her point. But she was dead wrong.

“He has to get the money for his blood somehow.” Joyce shrugged. “It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t care for you.”

Buffy realized with terror that not only she would never dissuade her mother that Spike’s supposed virtues were nothing but lies, but that if things kept going on that the way they were... her mother would eventually end up convincing her of said virtues. Her mother had made so many good points after all... but she couldn’t give in. Never!

“Well, it doesn’t mean he does, either!”

“And you do, honey?” Joyce asked, studying her daughter’s reaction to her question. Buffy might say all she wanted, but it was what she wasn’t saying that was important for her mother.

“That’s so not the point, mom. Plus, didn’t you have to go to the gallery?” she reminded her.

“Oh, right, and I’m already late. Well, I’ll be expecting Spike after sunset so I might come back home a bit late. You told him I expected him to come by the gallery tonight, didn’t you, honey?”

“Of course I did. What forgetful, absentminded daughter did you mistake me for?” she responded, acting insulted.

“I’m glad you did, darling. I’ll stay at the gallery late tonight just because of him, so it would be a pity to waste my time there when I could be here,” the older woman pointed out, before kissing her daughter goodbye and leaving.

Buffy got up from her bed after she heard the front door close before she kicked it in order to give vent to her rage. Why, oh why had she forgotten to tell him about that last night? ‘And don’t even start about the kiss… don’t even start!’ she scolded herself once more. Now she had no other choice than go to his crypt and convince Spike that he had to meet her mother at the gallery that night. She didn’t want to let her mother down after all and knowing Spike, he might say no just to bother her, hence the having to convince him. And to convince him meant talking to him. But since he hadn’t a phone, talking to him meant seeing him. And God only knew what seeing him could lead to!

At least Buffy wasn’t tormented by the memories of that fateful day when they were under Willow’s spell anymore. Not that that was too good either, because now her mind was filled by the memories of the night before, of their first real kiss. No spells involved.

In fact, she was so troubled by that, not knowing what to do, what to expect and above all, why was she feeling all this…things, if she was supposed to hate Spike, that she forgot to check her precious desk and the secret panel, before leaving.

‘Brilliant plan, Buffy!’ she commended herself as a plan began to take form in her mind, while she walked toward Spike’s crypt. ‘It’s early enough in the morning that he’ll surely be sleeping. So I’ll go there, wake him up and he will be all with the sleepy and not with the chatty. It’s just perfect. All I have to do is give him the message and leave. No complications at all!’

*~*~*

Once she got to Spike's crypt, she sneaked through the entrance very silently, stopping on the upper level when she saw a notebook lying over a chair. If only she had skimmed through the pages, she would have read some sonnets about her beauty and how powerful and graceful she was whenever she fought written on a very familiar handwriting. But she didn’t even think about it, because the blank paper and a pen she saw next to it, gave her an idea.

‘Alright…new plan, I’ll write him a message and leave. I don’t even have to see him. I’m sure he’ll read it once he wakes up,’ she decided, grabbing the pen.

She was about to write the first word when she jolted, due to a sudden noise she heard. She turned around, but didn’t see anything or anyone. She was about to sigh in relief and return to her very important ‘mission’, when a voice prevented her from doing that.

“I guess I should consider installin’ an alarm system in here, so intruders won’t get in so easily. Who knows... they might actually steal somethin’,” Spike said, seemingly appearing out from the thin air after he’d been lurking in the shadows, just like every proper vampire would do.

“God! And that makes two near-heart attacks since last night. Damn you!” she snapped, holding a hand to her chest. “Anyway... steal something? As if there was something worth stealing here!” Disdain showing in her features as her eyes roamed over the few things Spike had in the upper level of the crypt.

“Well, there’s something here that you shouldn’t be putting your hands on!” he responded, snatching his precious notebook right from her hands.

‘What were you thinkin’ leavin’ this lyin’ around for anyone to find? You’d be dust in the wind faster than you can say her name if she ever found out what’s inside,’ he thought, disguising his fear at nearly being caught with a cocky smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“Well, well, pet, and to what do I owe the dubious pleasure of your visit? We haven’t seen each other for ‘bout... what? Ten hours or so, and you’re already here? Admit it, you couldn’t wait ‘til tonight ‘cause you missed me, right?” he teased her, enjoying how her pretty face flushed as her rage began to escalate.

“Grrr, you, arrogant, scarily self-confident, unbearably egocentric, damned bleached vampire! I came here just to deliver you a message. I was about to write it too, so I didn’t have to talk with you,” she clarified.

“But since I’m here and you’re here, you don’t need to write it, so talk.” He placed the notebook on a shelf that was well out of her reach.

“My mom wants you to meet her at the gallery at sunset; she said she wants to give you some old furniture or something. At least then, thieves will have finally something worthy of robbing, since all she has there is of excellent quality,” she said. “Anyway, it’s just 9:30, so... why are you up already? What kind of vampire are you?”

“Well, I’m the kind of vampire who had a quite revealin’ experience that kept him up all night long, and day, too!” He winked at her.

“You just drank too much coffee. That’s the only revealing experience you had!” she struck back.

“C’mon, pet. You can’t deny what happened...” he murmured, taking a step closer to her.

“I’m denying nothing, simply because there’s nothing to deny! Nothing happened yesterday!”

“You know that you are lyin’...” he insisted, determinedly bringing up his hand to caress her cheek, but she stepped away from him.

“No, stop that. It all started with that, and I don’t want it to...”

“See? You remember. And I know you enjoyed every second of it, quite a bit actually,” he said smugly.

“Okay, so what? I liked your kisses. But that doesn’t mean that I like you!” ‘Sure, Buffy. So, you also like his piercing blue eyes, his spikey hair and... okay, let’s sum it up, his whole stunning body, but that doesn’t mean that you like their owner! Geez, Buffy, could you be any more pathetic!’ “Hey, wait a minute. Why are you so revved up about this? Maybe it’s you who likes me, Spikey?” she said as she took a step closer to him as he backed off, caught completely off-guard.

“Huh? What the bloody hell are you blatherin’ ‘bout? Don’t flatter yourself, Slayer, it’s just that… maybe I like the fact that you like me. But that doesn’t mean that I like you!”

‘Okay, so that’s a relief, he’s even more pathetic than I am!’ She rolled her eyes.

“Well, now that that’s clear, I guess I’ll go take a nap at least until sunset, and before headin’ to your mum’s gallery, I’m gonna pass by dear old Rupert’s house to get my well earned money,” he informed her, expecting her so predictable reaction.

“Well earned money? What money? You didn’t do anythin’ last night, so you shouldn’t be paid for it!” she responded angrily. He scared her half to death and he still expected to be paid? Over her dead body!

“Oh, but I did do somethin’, didn’t I? I made the dutiful Slayer have some real fun, I should be paid extra for that!” he responded, approaching the entrance to the crypt’s lower level.

“Grrr. I hate you!” she snapped, rushing towards the exit.

“Me too, be sure of that. Well, see you tonight, love. And be sure to use the same lipstick, I enjoyed the cherry flavor quite a lot yesterday,” he added in a husky tone, enjoying seeing her very visible blush once more before she left, grumbling something unintelligible under her breath and slamming the door, enraged.

Spike smiled and headed towards his bed. Maybe his dreams would be filled with a beautiful but very pissed off Slayer now.

TBC

Chapter IX

At Giles’ apartment

Still not fully awake after taking an afternoon nap, Giles walked down the stairs of his apartment and almost had a heart attack when he realized that he wasn’t alone.

“Well, well, it seems not only we vampires sleep durin’ the day,” Spike commented after noticing the drowsy expression the Watcher wore, while he sat comfortably on the armchair that had been his bed up until a few days before.

“Huh? Spike... how—” Giles attempted to ask, but he was hindered by a big yawn.

“It’s sunset. You didn’t revoke the invite. And you also left a window open,” Spike explained patiently, pointing at the window in question. “So, what, do you need more clues to decipher what happened?” he added, in a teasing tone that pissed the Watcher off.

“What the hell do you want, Spike?” he snapped, wide awake by then.

“A cup of tea won’t do it for me this time, Rupert. ’m here to collect my hard-earned money and you should know better. We have a deal, remember?”

“Unfortunately I do.” He rolled his eyes. “But first tell me, how was patrol last night? Did you meet any of those Frakor demons again?”

“The Slayer didn’t tell you anythin’ yet then?”

“Please, don’t even start with that. Not now. She was supposed to bring me the letters this morning and she didn’t come or even call to apologize. I fell asleep waiting for her, for Chrissakes! I swear I don’t know what to do with her anymore, I can only imagine what’s on her mind to turn her into such an irresponsible girl,” the man grumbled. ‘Not that she’s been that responsible before anyway,’ he added to himself, but he was curious over the letters and the whole desk issue and the fact that his Slayer had been even more distracted as of late than as per usual.

‘Oh, maybe I know what she’s think—Wait a minute...’ Spike’s smug smile quickly turned into a confused frown when he recalled something Giles had mentioned before.

“Huh? Letters? What letters are you talkin’ about?”

“It’s sort of a long story, but the essential part is that she got an antique desk from her mother’s gallery and it seems that she has been able to exchange letters with a man from the past through it... anyway, that’s none of your business! And now tell me about last night’s patrol or you won’t get paid.”

Spike made a mental note about finding more about that desk, it sounded awfully suspicious to him. Maybe Joyce could help him with that. He didn’t like the idea of Buffy…er, the Slayer, exchanging love letters—because he had the odd certainty that they weren’t of any other kind—with a perfect stranger.

“Uh, right. Well, there weren’t any bloody Frakors or any other kind of demons around; matter of fact, there was not one single demon in sight last night.”

“So, you did nothing...”

“Quite the contrary! Let’s say that I took advantage of the quiet night to make your Slayer realize that things weren’t as quiet and calm as they seemed... to help her improve her reflexes, you know?” he justified, thinking about his joke.

“Well, I guess that’s a good move, her reflexes do need some training.” Giles nodded in agreement.

If just a couple of years ago someone had told him that one day Spike, Master Vampire, feared Slayer of two Slayers, would be discussing with him of strategies to improve the abilities of his Slayer, he would have laughed in that person ‘s face, but now... oh God, he could believe that anything was possible now!

“Yes, and I... well, I also tested how she reacts to... er... unexpected situations. And I really liked how she reacts, too.” He sneered, very pleased with himself at the memory. “You know what? I actually liked it so much that, on second thought, I won’t take your money this time. It’s on the house. See you ‘round, Rupert!” Spike said, remembering that he had a much more important appointment that evening, so he left the apartment, leaving a very confused Giles wondering what the hell had that been about.

* ~ * ~ *

Later at the Gallery

“Oh, good, you’re finally here. I was starting to think Buffy had lied to me and hadn’t told you to meet me here,” Joyce said as soon as she saw Spike come into the gallery.

“No, she did tell me; I’m sorry if ’m a bit late,” he apologized, lowering his head bashfully.

“Well, don’t worry, you’re here now. Come with me, I have some pretty things to show you.” She led him into another room.

“You do realize that just ‘cause of the fact that they’re pretty, I will never ever like that stuff?”

“Believe me, Macho-Man, once you see what I have to show you, I bet you’ll more than like them!” she answered, with a knowing smirk.

And true enough, after just twenty minutes, the very ‘macho’ vampire was enumerating all the ways in which he could arrange his crypt with all the pretty furniture that Joyce had very patiently showed him, while she listened to him with a big smile of victory in her face that he was too engrossed to see.

“This armchair is at least ten times better than the one I have now and will fit perfectly inside the crypt. And that small table over there could be pretty useful, too, I could put it near the armchair so I can put my blood over it while I watch TV,” Spike commented with a pleased smile, but then he frowned when he noticed the disgusted face that Joyce had made after his last sentence. “Oh, I’m sorry, that was a little too much information for you, wasn’t it?” he said with a sheepish grin.

“Yes, dear, and I’d very much prefer if you don’t share that kind of information with me. I know you’re a vampire, but there’s no need to remind me like that, okay?” She smiled to Spike as he nodded. If it weren’t for the vampire’s off-handed comments every once in a while, she could almost forget what he truly was whenever they talked. Then again, who could blame her for wanting to imagine that her hopefully-very-soon daughter’s boyfriend was as normal as he could be? “Anyway, I think even with your vampiric strength it could be a problem to take all this furniture back home.”

“Yes, it’s quite a lot, but I can manage, little bit by little bit.”

“What if I send some of my employees with the furniture to your cemetery tomorrow around sunset, hmm?” she suggested. “You could meet them at the gate and guide them to your crypt and they could even help you put everything in place.”

“Oh, that’s a brilliant idea. But won’t your employees be a little bit puzzled when you send them to a cemetery?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. My employees do whatever I ask them to do without any questions.”

“Alright then. Well, I have no words to thank you, Joyce. You’ve always treated me like I’m a person and not just a monster.” His eyes gleamed with gratitude and more than just a hint of adoration.

“That’s because you are a person, darling, it’s just that sometimes you wear yellow eyes and sharper teeth, that’s all.” She smiled at him.

“Joyce, you know it’s at times like this when you remind me most of my mum.” He smiled adoringly at her.

“I know, honey. Plus, I give you furniture for free and I make the best hot chocolate with little marshmallows in Sunnydale and its vicinities. So, wouldn’t that also made me the perfect mother-in-law?” She smirked, mentally crossing her fingers hoping he would take the bait.

“Yes, you would definitely be... Hey. Wait a minute… WHAT? Calm down, what the bloody hell are you blathering about?”

“Watch your language, William!” Joyce scolded him.

“Uh, right. ’m sorry, ma’am. Anyway, I don’t know what Buffy told you, but you’re unquestionably getting the wrong idea here. Okay, so Buffy and I kissed, but that doesn’t mean any—”

“OH MY GOD! You two kissed!” the woman squealed in delight.

Spike’s eyes almost bulged out as his face morphed into a terrified expression. “Weren’t you—” He cleared his throat, not sure how he’d gotten into this mess. “Didn’t she tell you about that?”

“She sort of did, but she made it seem like it was just a joke. The little liar... so, there was some truth in that then,” Joyce mumbled almost to herself as a big, satisfied smile bloomed in her lips.

‘Right. So now the Slayer will have one more reason to kill me,’ the vampire thought and immediately after he looked down at his crotch in a threatening way. ‘And don’t even dare find that exciting!’ he scolded himself, or rather a certain part of his anatomy, and then he turned his attention back to Joyce.

“Please, stop that, I know that smile. You shouldn’t be happy about that. ’m Buffy’s mortal enemy!”

“Mortal enemies don’t kiss each other!” she answered, her smile never wavering.

‘Touché!’ he observed silently, rolling his eyes to himself.

“I knew that sooner or later you would end up together. And to know that Buffy is with you assures me that she’s safe...”

“Argh! No, take that back, take that back! You’re killin’ me here!” he answered, deeply disappointed that Joyce seemed to have such a high opinion of him. Had she forgotten that he was evil? E. V. I. L. As in someone that couldn’t be trusted, let alone considered as perfect boyfriend material for the Slayer. “Once and for all, I’m not the knight in shinin’ armor you seem to think I am. I’m not the kind of guy mothers desire to see their daughters datin’. You know, back on the good old times, whenever I ‘dated’ a girl, her mother would see them come back a few days later... in pieces...” He interrupted himself when he noticed Joyce’s raised eyebrow. “Okay, you caught me, so I usually disposed of them as quickly and as painlessly as I could, the ‘sendin’ them back in pieces’ was more Angelus’ style. But that doesn’t mean anythin’, I’m still evil!”

“But don’t you see, dear? Despite your evil nature, you didn’t drag on your victims’ suffering unnecessarily or torture them, even if you had the means to do it, you chose not to. And added to all that, it seems you just provided me with one more reason to dislike Angel, not that I needed it or anything, he’d done a pretty good job of that all by himself,” Joyce explained, with a wink.

“And it seems I have one more reason to adore you, Joyce!” Spike grinned at her. “But that doesn’t mean that I adore your daughter, too, quite the contrary!” he rushed to add.

“I think you do, you just haven’t realized it yet or if you have, you just haven’t accepted it,” Joyce said. “Anyway, I do have another reason why I’d like you two to be together.” She smiled inwardly when she noticed that Spike didn’t voice his objection this time, curiosity coming off the vampire on waves. “I think that will help to take Buffy’s mind off from that mysterious man from the past.”

“You’re talkin’ about the one she’s been exchangin’ letters with, aren’t you?”

“How do you know about that?”

“Well, Rupert told me somethin’ about that, but not everythin’. And now I’d really like to hear all you know about this mysterious man.”

“How about this? I’ll tell you all I know about him, if first you tell me what happened last night in patrol. And no jokes!”

“Deal, I’ll tell you what happened, but you must promise you won’t ask me no further questions about this after I finish.”

“Deal.”

And so, they began exchanging their precious information.

* ~ * ~ *

A little while later

“... and then she ran away, as if nothin’ had happened between us. And that’s fine with me, ‘cause no matter what it was that made us kiss, I can absolutely assure you that it won’t happen again,” he finished, with what he hoped had been certainty lacing his voice, even when he was the first one who doubted his own words.

‘Especially when I still feel her soft and sweet lips glidin’ over mine, when I still can taste her kisses, when I can recall how eagerly and passionately she responded to my caresses, how her lower lip felt as I nibbled on it, so bitable and… oh, bloody hell, you’re definitely not helpin’ yourself here, mate!’ Spike admonished himself, he had to stop with this train of thought now if he wanted Joyce to actually believe in anything he’d been saying and judging by the disbelieving looks she was throwing him, she wasn’t buying his ‘it won’t happen again’ speech. Time to change gears and distract the attention from himself or else he’d find himself in a deeper mess than he was already in.

“Well, ’m done. Now it’s your turn,” he exhorted her, hoping she wouldn’t back out from her promise of not asking any more questions.

“All right.” She took a big breath, shifting in her seat. “It started about a week ago, Buffy was helping me unload some boxes here at the gallery and when we came into one of the rooms she saw an antique desk and begged me to give it to her. She was very convincing too, so I agreed to give it to her. It turned out that the desk had a secret panel with two drawers on it and in one of them she found an envelope with a letter inside, supposedly written in 1880 by the desk’s former owner, an Englishman called William...er, something, sorry, I don’t seem to recall what his last name is.” Joyce shrugged.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think I want to know anyway,” Spike answered a little too evenly, his knuckles whitened by the strength with which he was holding the chair he occupied. How dare the little twerp have the same name that he had? Not that he cared, nope, not a bit.

“So, Buffy found a poem along with the letter in the secret drawer ...” Joyce continued.

At the word ‘poem’ Spike jolted, tuning Joyce out for a minute. ‘It couldn’t be, could it? Nah, that’d be too much of a coincidence,’ he thought, reminding himself that there must have been at least hundreds of William’s throughout the years that had entertained the idea of being poets and anyway, wouldn’t he remember it if he’d been the same William? No one could forget something like that, now could they?

‘No, they couldn’t,’ he answered to himself, already hating this mysterious William guy more than he’d ever thought possible for stealing Buffy’s attention away from him.

“She was so mesmerized by the romanticism of the letter and the poem, that she had the crazy idea to respond to it, not that she thought he would actually get it, she just was so moved by his words that she couldn’t help herself.”

‘Bloody lucky guy he is, at least there are some poets whose work is appreciated by someone,’ Spike thought morosely, grieving a little bit at the thought that his work had never been appreciated like that.

Joyce noticed his immediate change of mood. “Are you okay?” she asked him, concerned.

“Huh? Yes, it’s nothin’ important, please, go on.” He shrugged, trying to act nonchalantly as he reined in the feelings of jealousy and self-doubt that were growing within him with each word Joyce uttered.

“So, she put the letter in the same drawer where she had found his... and then the most astonishing thing happened, when she decided to retrieve her letter and destroy it, she found another letter, this time addressed to her! So, she answered and again she found another letter waiting for her the next day. It seems that the drawer is some sort of time machine that has allowed them to communicate through time, but I’m not completely sure if it’s a good thing. That’s why I told Buffy that she should tell Rupert about the desk and the letters, I think this whole thing should be investigated carefully.”

“Why? Do you think that there might be a demon behind all this stuff?”

“Who knows? It could be anything. Anyway, William seems like a nice man... but I don’t know, there’s something about all this that I don’t like, I just can’t trust him or whatever is happening,” Joyce admitted.

“You know what? I don’t trust him either, so I think I’d better keep an eye on Buffy...” Spike commented, arousing Joyce’s hope. “Mostly because Rupert pays me for it, it’s not that I care!” he added immediately after, not fooling Joyce for even a second. “So, where is she now? At her dorm?” he asked.

“She’s home. Since she got that desk she hardly leaves her room,” Joyce informed him.

“Uhmm... good to know...” he mumbled through gritted teeth. He’d have to investigate this matter further. It wouldn’t do that the Slayer got all interested in this William bloke, who knew what type of man he was? Not that he cared, not really or maybe just a bit? He just wanted to make sure that Rupert kept paying him for taking care of the Slayer, nothing to do with the fact that he was insanely jealous of a man that most likely was dead and buried by now.

* ~ * ~ *

London, 1880

William felt…perplexed. He’d been wandering about for hours, too distraught to even think of returning home. He wasn’t sure what was happening to him or why or even if he liked the person who he seemed to be turning into. Never before had he reacted towards anyone, especially a lady, like he’d done today with Cecily Addams... of all people.

Up until last week he’d been hopelessly in love with her. But now? Now there was Elizabeth, not that that provided him with any hope. The fact that some one hundred and odd years separated them meant there was no chance of them ever meeting face to face. But one hundred plus years had no bearing on the undeniable connection between them; a connection that he and Cecily… He snorted, than he ever dreamed of achieving with her. He’d always been little more than nothing to Cecily, just someone that she knew would drop at her feet and adore her if she so much as glanced his way.

Good Lord, but he’d been a fool. But never again, not ever, not even if there were no chance at all of him ever meeting Elizabeth. Bloody hell, he didn’t even know what she looked like. Didn't matter either. Somehow, in his heart, he knew that she could easily become—if she hadn’t already—the one person he could love more than life itself; the one person he’d bravely defy every law of science, of nature, of God even, for one chance to see her... just once. If only for a minute, a second... anything that he could get, he knew that if they could meet, she would complete him, make him a better man. He would willingly do anything and everything within his power, if only he knew what is was to bring about that turn of events.

Logically he knew that it should be impossible that any of this could actually happen, but then again, if anyone had told him a few days before that he’d be corresponding with a lady that hadn’t even been born yet, he probably would have thought that person needed to be committed and locked up in a mental hospital for life.

Nothing he’d experienced so far, could have ever prepared him for the bittersweet reality of knowing that there could be someone he could feel so strongly for, of knowing that this person might actually return his feelings and realizing that she was almost as unreachable as Cecily Addams had once been for him. Almost, because it wasn’t that Elizabeth didn’t care for him, she did, he knew it in his heart. It was just a matter of finding a way so they could be together and he wouldn’t rest until he found one. If a desk could be used to send letters back and forth in time, shouldn’t there be some way he could be sent into the future?

Odd, ever since he read Faust for the first time, he’d always wondered how Goethe’s could have come up with the notion of anyone wanting to sell their soul to the Devil in exchange of anything. Now he understood. He would do it in a heartbeat; live out eternal damnation in exchange for being sure that there was a way he could meet his Elizabeth.

He was so lost in thought that he never saw the woman he bumped into, not that he saw her much after he did. He muttered an, “Excuse me,” before continuing on his way. The woman noticed him however, and smiled as her beloved stars sang to her what the young man had been so preoccupied with.

tbc

Chapter X - Dream a Little Dream of Me

Luckily for her, Buffy was alone at her house at the moment. Her mother was still at the gallery, probably with Spike. Uh-oh, on second thought that was so not good. Who knew what the bleached menace might be telling her? Or rather what her mother might extract out of him; because really? The woman should come with a warning label. She could make a rock talk for heaven’s sakes; Spike simply stood no chance against her, even if he tried.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she chanted, almost hyperventilating in the process, as she paced the length of her room. “What if he tells my mom about the kiss at the cemetery?” She’d never hear the last of it if he did. She understood her mother’s reasons for wanting them to be a couple, she truly did and even if a small part of her—a very, very tiny, almost microscopic part—felt some kind of odd attraction towards the vampire, she was very aware that continuing down that path would only bring her heartache and lots of tears. Not that the idea of falling for an 1880 Englishman was that good for her heart either, but still, it was infinitely better than the alternative. At least with William she could be sure that her feelings were actually being returned somehow, even if it was only through an enchanted desk.

She took some deep cleansing breaths, trying to calm down as she sat on her bed. After all it wouldn’t do her any good to fret about that for the moment and maybe if she was really lucky she was just worrying over nothing? Maybe her mother just wanted to give some furniture to Spike as she’d claim and it wasn’t a guise to grill him with her questions as she’d done with her?

“Yes, that’s it. No reason to worry about that for now, Buffy,” she told herself. She decided to take advantage of being by herself to answer William’s letter, but not before re-reading it for what had to be the umpteenth time that evening.

This last letter had been quite different from the others; it seemed to be more intense, with an almost desperate quality to it. Almost as desperate as she’d felt when the letter didn’t appear until much later than the usual time. She’d been checking the drawer several times that day, her anxiety growing each time when it didn’t appear. She’d even pulled out the two drawers on the secret panel to check if the letter hadn’t stuck between them and after that, she began convincing herself that it all had been a dream—a very beautiful dream—but as always seemed to happen, she’d somehow drove him away and he wouldn’t write to her anymore. She checked once more anyway and that was when she finally found the letter nestled inside the drawer.

“My darling Elizabeth,

So much has transpired as of late that I know not where to begin. I am changing; transforming into someone I know nothing of, into someone I am not sure I want to be. However, by doing so, by turning into this infinitely more confident version of myself, I feel somehow closer to you. I now believe with a certainty that defies any logic or reason that someday, somewhere, somehow I will meet you, even if only in my dreams. Would you dream of me, too? Would you meet if only in this way, Love? Tell me there is a path that will lead me to you and I shall seek it with every fiber of my soul. For seeing you, even at the cost of my very soul, being damned for all eternity, I shall willingly pay the price.

Your William”

She sighed dreamily as she finished re-reading the letter out loud. Why couldn’t Sp…er, other guys be more like William? He was so romantic; his letters almost poems in themselves. She would give just about anything to be able to experience the kind of love that he promised, to be in his arms and feel his lips against hers just once. Then again, as he said, they could always meet in their dreams.

Hmm, but what did he look like? She couldn’t very well dream of him if she didn’t know what he looked like, now could she? Even if looks didn’t really matter to her, not regarding him at least; she had fallen for his soul and really, no one with a soul that beautiful could be anything but good looking anyway. Did they even have pictures back in 1880? ‘They had to, didn’t they? Otherwise however had the Council gotten Angel and Drusilla’s,’ she thought as she remembered seeing their pictures in one of Giles’ books. “I will have to send him mine too and I know just the perfect one.” She smiled as she recalled the picture her mom had insisted on taking before her first prom at Sunnydale High. Yep, it was perfect, even if the memories that it brought weren’t good at all, she still looked gorgeous in it, even if she said it herself, and she wanted William to see her at her best.

Happy with her resolution, she put the letter inside her diary—where she kept the other letters, too—and after checking the clock and seeing that it was still 8:30, she decided she still had enough time before patrol to answer his letter. Or at least she imagined she had.

She was so engrossed in what she was doing that she didn’t listen when someone came into the house through the front door, then walk up the stairs and into her room.

As usual, she was stuck with the beginning of her letter, so she thought that reading out loud what she’d written so far might help her, when someone behind her snatched the letter from her hands. Someone with almost blinding white-blond bleached hair and supernatural speed. Oh, great, as if she didn’t have enough problems as it were!

“‘My Dear William, sometimes I am afraid that ’m just dreamin’ and when I wake up you’ll fade into thin air, but whenever I receive a new letter from you I have certainty that this beautiful dream is nothin’ but a wonderful reality and that certainty warms my heart in a way you can’t even begin to imagine…’ Eeeww, Slayer, you make me sick!” Spike exclaimed with a disgusted face, after reading the letter out loud as Buffy unsuccessfully tried to take it away from him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Buffy snapped, scowling at him as she hugged the letter to her chest after she finally managed to take it away from him.

“First ‘f all, now we are even, Slayer. You snuck into my house, now I’ve snuck into yours. And second, well, I wanted to see the infamous enchanted desk with my own eyes.” He glanced at the desk fleetingly, until something about it began calling to him and he stared at it more intently, almost as if he were hypnotized by it.

He had the odd feeling that this wasn’t the first time he’d seen it, but at the same time he was absolutely sure he had never seen it before. How in all that was unholy could that be?

“How did you find out about my desk?” Buffy asked, taking his mind, and mostly his eyes, off of her desk.

“Well, let’s jus’ say that Rupert and your mom like to talk quite a bit.” He smirked.

“Grrr, I can’t believe that they told you about it before I could tell my friends. And make no mistake, I will tell them, I just haven’t found the time to see them as much lately…”

“I know, Joyce told me you prefer to spend most of your time here nowadays, waitin’ to hear from the borin’ Mr. Long Dead and Buried. Oh, c’mon, Slayer, I’d never thought you’d fall for a guy jus’ ‘cause he can make two words rhyme and calls it poetry, plus how can you even entertain the idea of fallin’ for someone that’s already dead and buried is beyond me. I think the many punches that you’ve taken in your patrols have finally made you all loopy!” Spike was beyond irritated that the daft chit could actually feel something for someone that was not him, not that he wanted her all for himself or anything, but still… it kinda stung that she could fall for someone else after all they’d gone through. ‘And it’s not like he’s the only one who can rhyme, I can too, why can’t she see that?’ he thought, trying not to pout.

“You have no right to talk about William like that! You know absolutely nothing about him. First, his words don’t necessarily need to rhyme for them to be beautiful poems. Second, he’s romantic, caring, pure and gentle, and you don’t even know what those qualities are!” Buffy answered, punctuating each word with a poke to his chest, angry that Spike had dared to undermine her relationship with her William.

“Don’t even try to compare me to that nancy-boy, ’m nothin’ like him!” Spike snapped with a growl.

“Finally! One thing we both agree on!” Buffy stated, before Spike grabbed her by an arm and dragged her out of her room. “What do you think you’re doing?” She dug her heels on the carpet.

“Pick up your jacket and follow me. You need some fresh air and a good old patrol will do for now. I jus’ hope we’ll find one of those Frakor demons; I’m really gonna enjoy seein’ you get in trouble and this time… I’m not gonna move a finger to save you!” Spike sneered.

“Well, I hope we find the commandos who put that chip in your brain, so I can ask them to plant another one on that thick skull of yours that prevents you from talking, since you’re just too annoying!” she replied, her voice laced with anger, as she followed him outside her house.

She was sorry that she hadn’t finished writing her letter, but she was too angry to concentrate on that now anyway. Maybe Spike was right, the fresh air will help her and with any luck he’d fall right on his face and she would have the chance to laugh at him.

* ~ * ~ *

Buffy gave silent thanks to whoever might be listening as she entered her house again later that night. Patrol had been uneventful, aside from a few vampires that Spike had dusted after mumbling something about releasing some pent up frustration or something like that, whatever the hell that meant. She hadn’t minded that much, watching him fight was always quite enjoyable—especially after he ditched the duster into her care and she could see the play of his muscles under his very tight t-shirt and jeans. Not that she’d admit that to him, it was painful enough to admit it to herself thank you very much. And as much as she’d admired his…ahem, fighting skills, that hadn’t stopped her from wanting to smack him more than a couple of times as he’d kept taunting her with his ‘Mr. Long Dead and Buried’ references during most of their patrol.

Why on earth had Giles deemed it necessary to saddle her with him? Even facing a Frakor demon was better than having to spend all this time by her once mortal enemy’s side. As if she didn’t have more than enough on her plate already with trying to forget the damned memories of their so-called engagement that kept resurfacing at the most inconvenient times and on top of that, keeping at bay the impulses that told her that Spike flavored kisses were of the good. And of course, there was her inner turmoil as she slowly realized she was more than just mildly attracted to the vampire and that at the same time, she was falling for William. Yet, her treacherous heart didn’t seem to find that weird, she didn’t feel as if she was betraying William for having those feelings for Spike or vice versa. Or maybe all she was feeling for Spike was some kind of residue of the spell? Whichever the answer was she kept thinking what she could really use was a good old girl to girl talk with Willow and the sooner the better.

After she readied herself for bed, she decided to wait until the next day to answer William’s letter, she was too restless to concentrate on that now. She took one of the poetry books that she had to read for her English Lit class from her night table and opened it to a random page. As she began reading the poem, her eyes widened in surprise, it was not only perfect, but conveyed everything she felt for William. It felt as if it had been written with them in mind.

‘Night wraps the world around
Making us sleep
And the moon with its silver gleam
Will cover the sea and the city

And I’ll miss you
Even more than I do now
You don’t know how much

I’ll persist believing that
We are one soul, you and me
And I’ll love you, I know
Even if you’re not with me

I’ll bring you with me into the sun
Into the dreams I’ll have
I’ll steal the colors of the morning
In a clear sky
Where I’ll draw your face
And I’ll smile’

She smiled as she finished reading it; she knew exactly how she was going to answer William now. She got up from her bed and brought the poetry book with her, there was no way that she could not share this with him.

After she copied the poem and wrote her letter, she put them inside an envelope and placed it inside the secret drawer same as she always did and went back to her bed, sure that she’d dream of her William that night.

* ~ * ~ *

“Elizabeth…”

Buffy awoke when she felt a hand caress her cheek and heard a deep male voice calling her by her given name. Startled, she opened her eyes and could only make out the shadow of a man sitting on her bed. She was about to scream when he spoke again.

“My darling Elizabeth, you’re even more beautiful than I could have ever dared to imagine.”

Strangely the voice sounded familiar to her, but she was still too sleepy to ponder on that, so she chose to focus on the fact that there wasn’t anyone else that could have called her that.

“William?” She struggled to sit up, scrubbing her eyes to let go of the last shreds of sleep that still clouded her mind. “Am I dreaming?” Her eyes tried to focus on him, or rather on his shadow since the only light illuminating her room seemed to be emanating from the desk they shared. And while she was certain he had a fairly good view of her, his shoulders blocked the light, preventing her from getting a good look at him. She moved her hand to turn on the lamp over her night table, but he quickly placed his own over hers, effectively stopping her action.

“I just want to see you, I want to know what you look like.” She pouted.

“You already know what I look like.”

“No, I don’t.” She frowned, what was he talking about? How could she know what he looked like if she’d never seen him before?

“You do, love, you just haven’t realized it yet,” he replied cryptically.

“I don’t understand.”

“You will, do not worry yourself so. Not now when I can finally have you this close,” he pleaded, taking both of her hands into his.

“B-but—”

“Elizabeth, my love, I-I realize this is rather forward of me, and you may very well slap me if I offend you, but I would prefer that over knowing that I had you here before me now and I did not ask for lack of courage…”

“What do you want to ask?” she said softly, just a step away from melting into a puddle of Buffy-goo. God, he could ask her anything—especially in that knee-wobbling tone he was using—and she’d never, ever even ‘think’ of denying him…anything at all.

“I-I,” he cleared his throat before continuing, “this might be the only chance we ever have and rest assured that I would cherish this moment forever if only for having had the pleasure of being this close to you, but—”

‘But…there just had to be a but, hadn’t there?’ Buffy thought, rolling her eyes inwardly, sure that he was just looking for a way out of… whatever it was they had.

“It would make me the happiest man that ever walked this Earth, if you would allow for me to taste the sweet nectar of your lips?”

A kiss? That’s what he wanted? Relieved that her fears were over nothing, she smiled at him, responding with a shaky, “Y-yes. Yes, William, I would like that too.”

Letting go of one of her hands, he brought his up to gently cup her face, leaning in to place a soft kiss against her cheek, and another, and yet another before progressing towards her lips where he deposited the softest caress she’d ever felt, so much so, that again she questioned herself if it all was a dream or the sweetest reality she’d ever lived.

He slowly increased the pressure of his kisses, without demanding anything more from her that she wasn’t willing to give, allowing her to set the pace on which they could advance. It wasn’t too difficult for Buffy to understand his behavior—he was a Victorian gentleman after all—so she might as well take the initiative here.

She boldly took the hand that was still holding hers and placed it around her waist, while her other hand snaked over his chest until she threaded it into his oh so soft hair. She kissed him with all the fervor she could muster; this was her dream and damn if she wasn’t going to take full advantage of it.

She opened her mouth slightly and glided her tongue over his lips. He gasped at her forwardness, pushing back to look at her with what she imagined was a shocked expression.

‘Oh God! Now I’ve ruined it by being too forward. And wasn’t this just a dream anyway? Not even in a dream could I keep—mmmm.’ Her train of thought was effectively blocked when William began kissing her again with more intensity, this time letting his own tongue out to hesitantly slide it over her bottom lip. She sighed contentedly as she realized she hadn’t messed up after all and opened her mouth to let his tongue inside, where he proceeded to demonstrate just how much he’d liked her forwardness.

TBC

Disclaimer: The ‘poem’ used in this chapter is not really a poem. I used the translation from Italian to English to one of my favorite songs, Ti Amerò by Il Divo, which I twisted to fit to what I wanted to say. Neither the song nor the lyrics are mine; they belong to their singers and writers and are used only to entertain.

Chapter XI. Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This

London, 1880

William paced restlessly inside his room. He’d been unable to stop worrying, there were too many things happening, all of them at the same time, each of them pulling him in a different direction.

His mother’s health worsened progressively with each passing day. She’d tried to hide it from him, but after witnessing her last coughing bout during supper and watching her handkerchief turn red from the blood she’d expelled, he hadn’t been able to erase the feeling that it wouldn’t be long now before he’d be left completely alone. Consumption, the doctor had said when he’d examined her and the word, along with Doctor Matthews’ subsequent shake of his head, had filled him with dread. His beloved mother’s days on this Earth were numbered, he knew that and while he was saddened by it, it only affirmed his resolve of moving heaven and hell to be with his Elizabeth.

Elizabeth, what he wouldn’t give to see her just once? But how? It wasn’t like he’d find the Devil himself gallivanting around town asking for his soul in return for allowing him be with her, would it now? And even if he did, would she still want him were he soulless? Not that he thought it would matter, for she was his soul, his heart, his everything.

Never had he dreamt that he’d feel like this for anyone, the feelings Cecily Addams had inspired in him were nothing when compared to the conflagration that burned in his chest for Elizabeth.

He checked the secret drawer, sighing heavily when he found it empty yet again before he restarted his pacing. She hadn’t responded to his letter. What if he’d scared her with his intensity? Whatever would he do if she decided she was better off without him in her life? No. No, she wouldn’t do that. She was different from anyone else he’d ever met, she genuinely cared for him. He could feel it with every fiber of his being.

Three days ago he didn’t know Elizabeth and now he couldn’t fathom his existence without her and strange as it might sound, it felt right, as if everything that had happened in his life had been leading up to this precise moment. His love for her obliterated any common sense he had and he was ready to jump at any opportunity that presented itself, it didn’t matter how insane it might be.

He walked back to the desk and checked again, exhaling a relieved sigh when he finally found her letter inside. He brought the envelope to his nose to inhale the soft vanilla scent that seemed to permeate her letters before taking out the parchment.

“What’s this?” There was another, smaller envelope along with her letter, holding what he couldn’t begin to guess. He opened her correspondence first; he was desperate to read her words, to know she still cared for him and had not been frightened by the strong declaration of his feelings. He read aloud.

“My Dear William,

I can’t tell you how happy and relieved I was when I found your letter earlier today. Sometimes I’m so afraid that this is nothing more than a dream, a beautiful fantasy, but just that, nothing more than a dream. When I received a new letter from you, my heart told me this is real, that you are real and it means more to me than you can even begin to imagine.

You make me believe in myself, in you, in us. You make me believe that there must be a way that we can be together and if there is, we’ll find it. Someday, somewhere, somehow we’ll find it and have a happily ever after ending, if only in our dreams. You asked if I’ll dream of you and here is my answer: I will dream of you every night and day, every hour, every second and every moment in between.

And just so you recognize who you’ll be dreaming of, I’ve enclosed one of my favorite pictures of me in a separate envelope. Would you do the same for me, sweet William? Would you send me a picture of you so I know who I should dream of?

Forever yours,

Elizabeth

PS. Before I forget, I found a poem in one of my school books and it just puts into words everything I clumsily try to tell you, I hope you like it as much as I did.”

Turning to the second page, he found her ‘poem’.

‘The night slips over the world
Making us sleep
And the moon will dress
In silver the sea and the city
And I’ll miss you
Even more than I do now
You don’t know how much

I’ll continue believing that
We are one soul, you and me
And I’ll love you, I know
Even if you’re not with me

I’ll bring you with me into the sun
Into the dreams I’ll have
I’ll steal the colors of the morning
In a clear sky
Where I’ll draw your face
And I’ll smile’

His heart ached over the poem she’d chosen in order to convey her feelings for him. They were beautiful, almost as much as he imagined she would be. She moved him, filled him with a yearning to touch her, hold her, to look upon her...

“The picture.” Now he could gaze upon her lovely face. He was seconds away from seeing his Elizabeth for the first time.

Opening the second envelope, he held his breath and pulled her picture out carefully, noticing it must be the back of the photo. His hands trembled with anticipation, forcing his eyes shut to gather his nerve. Sighing deeply, he turned it over and opened his eyes.

“Ahh,” he gasped. Clutching his chest with his free hand, he stumbled backwards and landed in his chair.

He drank in her image; she was truly a vision, an angel fallen from the heavens for sure. And she wanted a photograph of him? Oh God, wherever would he find one where he didn’t look like a right ponce? Perhaps he should have a new one taken tomorrow? Or perhaps he should just send her any he found lying about in his room, no amount of new photographs would change the fact that he wasn’t worthy of a goddess like her.

Returning his attention to the portrait itself, he noted with much curiosity the differences between this one and the pictures from his time. The colors were vibrant, jumping out to grab one’s attention. So vivid and real, making her appear as if she were about to walk out of it to stand before him. Such strange oddities this future held in the photo of this woman.

His eyes ran over the delicate curves of her body, her white dress clinging to reveal she was a woman of small stature, petite. Her attire bore much of her skin. The women he knew would be appalled by such a costume, finding it much too brazen and bold. Their layers of petticoats and high collared necks were ‘appropriate’, but here was a glimpse into the future that he, ashamedly, found very alluring as his manhood responded of its own volition.

Hair the color of spun gold, smooth honey toned skin and those eyes... like the sea, no, jade. Yes, that was what they reminded him of. He ran a fingertip gently over the vision of her exposed neck, shoulders, along her waist and back up again. His imagination ran away from him, he could almost feel the softness of her skin, the material of the dress that hugged her lovely form. He touched her covered breasts, almost believing he could feel their weight in his palm. Oh how he suddenly yearned to remove it, to undress her slowly and...stop that.

His Elizabeth was a woman of propriety. It was highly disrespectful for him to even conceive the notion he would defile himself in front of her image. She was pure, and the time for pleasures of the flesh could wait until she had taken his name, until they were properly wed.

His heart sank in that moment, heavy with sadness when it occurred to him those things would never come to pass. She would always remain a world away until he found a means to be with her.

The tiredness of the day and the weight of all his concerns filled his head, making it hurt. Perhaps he should lie down for a bit. Yes, a short rest would do him good. As for her picture, he would hold it to his chest; keep her close to his heart where she belonged.

Dejectedly, he decided that it was late enough already and that he should wait until the morning to write back to her. Maybe tomorrow he’d find one photograph that wasn’t as awful as he remembered.

* ~ * ~ *

“William…”

William awoke to a hand ghosting a caress over his cheek as he listened to the sweetest voice that had ever graced his ears, calling his name. Startled he opened his eyes, gasping and putting a hand over his chest as he sat upright on his bed. He scrubbed his eyes, trying to rub the sleepiness out from them, squinting before taking his spectacles from his night table so he could have a clearer look of the person sitting on his bed.

“Elizabeth?” She nodded, smiling at him, while he looked at her in confusion, unable to fully grasp if this was a dream or if somehow a miracle had happened and she was really in front of him. “Am I in Heaven? I have to be, because I’m certain I’ve never seen such a beautiful angel on Earth,” he whispered, as his eyes devoured her. He’d thought she was beautiful when he’d seen her in the photograph, but having her here in front of him, she took his breath away.

“How is this possible?” he asked.

“You asked me to meet you in our dreams and here I am.”

“So, this is a dream then?”

“Sort of, not quite though,” she said cryptically.

“I don’t understand.” He furrowed his brow in confusion.

“I know you don’t, but you will, when the time is right. Then you will know everything you need to know.”

“And when will that be?”

“Soon.”

He sighed, passing a hand over his face. He wished she could be a little less enigmatic, but it seemed that no amount of asking would work. “You are not going to tell me anything else, are you?”

“No, not tonight.”

“But soon?” he insisted.

“Yes.”

“All right then.” He looked at her again before taking her hands in his, unable to stop himself for another minute, for another second, needing to feel her close to him as much as he needed to breathe, to make sure that she was there with him even if he knew this was only a dream. If only he could gather the courage to ask her for a kiss, he would die a happy man if only she granted her permission for that. God! Who was he kidding? He’d die a happy man if only she said she’d think about it!

‘Why don’t you ask her? You don’t have a thing to lose if you do. This is a dream, your dream. The worst that could happen is that she disappeared into thin air. And if she said yes, oh if she did, it’d be Heaven on Earth for sure.’ He had to do it, if this was truly the only opportunity he’d ever had, he had to grasp it with both hands and not let go of it ever.

“Elizabeth, my love,” he started, afraid he’d lose his courage if he didn’t ask her right away. “I-I realize this is rather forward of me, and you may very well slap me if I offend you, but I would prefer that over knowing that I had you here before me now and I did not ask for lack of courage…”

“What do you want to ask?” she spoke softly, with that smile of hers that he couldn’t get enough of.

“I-I,” he cleared his throat before continuing, “this might be the only chance we ever have and rest assured that I would cherish this moment forever if only for having had the pleasure of being this close to you, but—” he paused, inhaling deeply as he steeled himself for whatever answer she might give him. “It would make me the happiest man that ever walked this Earth, if you would allow for me to taste the sweet nectar of your lips?”

He waited with baited breath as he saw the different emotions that played in her face, until she smiled brightly at him, responding with a shaky, “Y-yes. Yes, William, I would like that too.”

Letting go of one of her hands, he brought his up to gently cup her face, leaning in to place a soft kiss against her cheek, and another, and yet another before progressing towards her lips where he deposited the softest caress he’d ever given. Her lips were soft and a shiver ran down his back as he finally experienced what it was like to kiss a lady, his lady.

He slowly increased the pressure of his kisses, without demanding anything more from her that she wasn’t willing to give, allowing her to set the pace on which they could advance. He was uncertain as to how to proceed since he’d never been in a situation like this before, afraid that anything he did might put an end to this wonderful dream.

She took him completely by surprise when she boldly took the hand that was still holding hers and placed it around her waist while her other hand snaked over his chest until she threaded it into hair, kissing him with all the fervor she could muster as she opened her mouth slightly and glided her tongue over his lower lip.

His brain almost turned to mush at the onslaught of passion that went through him at her actions, most of his blood having run southward, hardening him inside his breeches much to his chagrin. He knew he had to put a stop to it at that moment, she was a lady and as that she had to be treated, his body’s demands be damned.

He pulled back to look at her, panting as he tried to control his body’s reaction to her closeness, only to find her looking back at him hesitatingly, as if she was afraid she’d done something wrong when it was him who should be begging for her forgiveness. He was aware that he had to stop, that he might do something he’d regret if he didn’t, but she looked so sad, so bereft, that he couldn’t bring himself to put an end to it, not yet anyway.

So he did the only thing he could think of, he took her face between his hands and kissed her again, letting his tongue out to gently slide it over her bottom lip, much as she’d done before. She sighed contentedly, opening her mouth to let his tongue inside to tangle with hers. He moaned deeply as he tasted her for the first time, the flavor of her kisses more than enough to obliterate whatever little sense he still had left in him.

* ~ * ~ *

Sunnydale, 1999

Buffy was lost in the sensations William’s kisses elicited in her, but lost as she was she couldn’t shake the sense of familiarity that they—that he—stirred within her, as if she’d felt his lips over hers before, but that couldn’t be. Strange as it might be, she’d never dreamt of him before tonight. So how could she feel like she’d been kissed by him before?

Maybe if she saw what he looked like she could shake this feeling. Yes, that’s what she should do. Without interrupting their kiss she extended her right hand towards her table lamp, intent on turning it on and finally see what William looked like.

She had her hand on the switch when his hand covered hers as he stopped kissing her. Drat, she’d been caught!

“Ah, ah, ah, that’s cheating,” he chided her, chuckling when she pouted.

“But—” He put a finger over her lips, effectively interrupting her before rising from her bed and walking toward the desk.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“It’s time for me to leave.”

She threw the covers away from her body and followed him to the desk, pulling on his arm so he turned to face her again. “No, no, I don't want you to go. Don't leave, please,” she pleaded. ‘Ever,’ she added to herself. She wasn’t too keen on begging, but desperate times required desperate measures and what kind of a dream was this if he was leaving anyway?

“I'm never too far away from you, Love.”

“Again with the cryptic?” she said, pouting.

“Oh, look at those pouting lips, I just have to kiss them…” he said before leaning down and cradling her head in his hands to nibble on her bottom lip.

* ~ * ~ *

William was thoroughly confused as he felt the dream he’d been in turn into a completely different one. One where he wasn’t quite himself but the man he’d felt he’d been turning into. One where he seemed to be playing a part in but couldn’t entirely control his actions or what he said, almost as if he were a marionette of some sort.

He wasn’t in his room any longer, that much he was sure of, but his Elizabeth was still there with him, sitting in what he imagined was her bed while he kissed her. He opened his eyes halfway just to be sure as nothing seemed to be the same anymore.

Just then he noticed she was extending her hand to turn the lamp near her bed on and he knew he had to impede her action. She couldn’t see him, not yet anyhow. Why he wasn’t sure, but he absolutely knew that he couldn’t allow her to see him…not tonight, it wasn’t time.

He covered her hand with his and stopped kissing her, chuckling at her expression of being caught. She was adorable.

“Ah, ah, ah, that’s cheating.”

“But—” He put a finger over her lips to stop her from trying to defend herself. Knowing their time was running short he got up from her bed and walked towards the desk they shared ownership over.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“It’s time for me to leave,” he answered as he reached the desk, inherently knowing that it was through it that they’d been able to share this dream.

He heard her get out of her bed and the soft padding of her bare feet on the floor before he felt her hand pull on his arm. He turned around in such a manner that he still blocked most of the light with his body.

“No, no, I don't want you to go. Don't leave, please,” she pleaded and he just about gave in to her request, wishing he could indeed stay with her but knowing it was impossible at this moment in time. ‘Someday, there has to be a way,’ he thought, even more determined than before to find that way even at the cost of his very soul.

“I'm never too far away, Love.”

“Again with the cryptic?” she said, pouting.

“Oh, look at those pouting lips, I just have to kiss them.” He leaned down and cradling her head in his hands, nibbling on her lower lip.

It started out innocently enough, he had only meant to play lightly with her lip because he simply couldn’t resist her pout, but when she moaned and stood tall on her tiptoes, threading her hands around his neck as she pressed her body closer to his, he couldn’t stop from kissing her more passionately.

Feeling the change in his kisses and hoping that he’d given up on leaving, she tilted her head and opened her mouth to let his tongue in to dance with hers. Shivers ran through her as his hands traveled from her face down to her waist, ghosting over her breasts as he passed them by. Fleeting touches weren’t enough anymore, so she used one of her hands to guide one of his, placing it firmly over her breast, praying he got the idea and that she wouldn’t have to spell it out for him. Truthfully, she didn’t think she had it in her to talk at this precise moment.

He shuddered as he felt her breast filling his hand, almost ending their kiss altogether because surely this wasn’t the way one treated a lady, was it? Then that other part of him, that ‘other him’ took over and he could no longer form a coherent thought as his other hand closed firmly around her waist, raising her lithe body off the floor. He swiftly moved them past the desk and pressed her into the closest wall forcefully with his body. He couldn’t get enough of her as their kisses fueled the passion he felt for her.

Buffy was thanking whoever was listening for the support the wall brought her as she finally had enough leverage to bring her legs up and wrap them around his waist. She couldn’t get enough of him, especially not now with his mouth literally devouring hers. His fingers toyed with her aching nipples, making each of them in turn diamond hard under his touch, the sensation shooting straight to her core while he ground his hardened cock against her over-heated sex. With every thrust he hit directly upon her sensitive clit, making her wetter by the second. ‘Oh God, please, don’t let him stop now,’ she begged as she felt herself getting closer to orgasm.

He ground into her, the little mewling noises she made incensing him further, making him delirious with lust. She felt heavenly between his thighs; her heat scorched him even through their clothes, branding him as hers as he thrust against her body. He had never felt anything quite like this; he’d never felt so close to being complete, so close and yet so far as the barrier of their clothes prevented him from delving into the physical depths of her heaven. NO!!! He shouldn't, couldn't do this to his darling Elizabeth, not even in a dream. No, no, he wouldn’t allow it. He had to stop it now.

* ~ * ~ *

He awoke with a start, heart pounding in his chest, hands trembling. ‘Oh dear God,’ he thought, ‘I-I nearly, almost...’ The thought of what his body wanted to do to his sweet Elizabeth had horrified him. He raised a hand to his brow, it was damp with perspiration. Pulling the handkerchief from his left breast pocket, he proceeded to wipe at it furiously while attempting to sit up.

“Arghh.” He had to lie back down quickly. Sitting up had proved to be quite painful with the full state of arousal his manhood was still in from the heated dream. “Bloody hell,” he cursed. One hand went to cover the throbbing vile beast that wanted to defile his girl while the other flew outward, coming into contact with something cool and smooth. Lifting his head up towards the object to see what it was, the face of his beautiful angel stared back at him from the photograph.

He lifted the picture and brought it close to gaze upon her, the memory of their dream shared moments still fresh in his mind. The sound of her voice, her soft skin, her touch, the way she’d kissed him back... He hardly took note of what he was doing until he looked down to find his breeches open and his hand desperately stroking his erection.

“Oh, sod it.” He couldn’t help it, he was already on the verge of release right before he woke up and now, staring at her picture, he knew it was going to happen with or with out help from his hand. He pumped himself with forcefully at a pace that seemed almost inhuman, moaning her name as he stared at her sweet smile, her golden skin, the curve of her hips and swell of her breasts that not moments ago were pressed into his body, making him....... “Ahhhhhhhh.”

He roared aloud as his essence shot forth, leaving his body to stain his shirt and vest. He couldn’t stop himself though, it felt too good to finally let go, the thought of his angel naked and writhing beneath him filling his mind’s eye. He would deal with the shame later; right now he was riding a wave of euphoric bliss, rapt in a fantasy of making sweet love to his Elizabeth, shedding them both of their innocence, bringing them into adulthood with the act of coupling.

tbc

Chapter XII. While You Were Sleeping

A little while earlier…

He couldn’t help himself. Okay, maybe he could, he just didn’t want to. When the Slayer headed home after patrol, he waited a good ten minutes before following her to Revello Drive. Part of him said it was only because he was worried that a Frakor demon might attack her on the way and she would need his help. A bigger part of him though was still seething with jealousy from the information both Giles and Joyce had given him concerning ‘Mr. I’m Long Dead and Gone’. No amount of fighting or the snarky comments he’d shot her way had eased his irritation over knowing she had been exchanging love letters with a guy who’d been six feet under for over a hundred or so years.

How could she even think about having any kind of relationship with this ponce? This ‘William’, if indeed that was his name, was dead, while he was right here in the present. Sure, he was technically dead too, but at least he was here physically, patrolling with her every night, backing her up, making sure she stayed safe. He didn’t know what was worse, that he was forced to put up with her or that she didn’t appreciate it.

As he rounded a street corner, he caught sight of a vampire trying to make a midnight snack out of some young pretty thing that was too stupid to be at home this time of night. He approached him from the rear and tapped him on the shoulder.

“You,” he pointed to the frightened girl, “Go home.” He waited until she took off running then addressed the pissed off looking vampire. “You,” he shifted into game face, “time to dance.” He landed a right hook that sent the confused vampire flying.

The fledging stood and cried out. “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re a vampire, too.”

“And the man wins himself a cupie doll,” Spike replied sarcastically. “So yeah, I’m a vampire, what of it?” He approached him as the annoying git stood rubbing his chin.

“I mean we’re supposed to stick together and instead you let my meal go free.”

He took a sloppy swing which Spike easily evaded. Dropping to the ground he kicked the vampire’s legs out from underneath him, enjoying the sound of a bone cracking when he hit the ground hard.

“I don’t play by any unspoken rules if you couldn’t tell. As for your meal?” Standing over him, he delivered a kick to his side, satisfied when he heard at least a couple ribs break. “Bag it like I have to.” He kicked him again rather than stake him while defenseless. He could use another fight to vent more of the same frustration he’d felt all night. Only this time he could draw it out now that the slayer was home. It may not make everything he was feeling go away, but it damn sure would take the edge off to beat the bloke senseless in the process. Especially now that Buff—er, the Slayer wasn’t around to tell him to quit ‘playing around’ and just dust him.

“I mean, who the hell does she think she is?” The other vamp groaned in response, trying again to get up, taking in unneeded breaths.

“I’m here. Me,” he poked a finger into his chest. “Every night,” he waved a hand towards the night. “Out there with her on patrol, watching her back. Not him.” He waited for the injured fledgling to right himself then swung an arm around him as if they were buddies. “I write poetry too, ya know? I’m also dead like he is, so what’s he got that I don’t?”

The vamp merely shrugged, completely perplexed at this point.

“I’ll tell ya what he’s got.” He gave him an undercut to the chin with his left fist. “Her,” and another, “Bloody.” And another, “Attention. That’s what,” and another before using the arm around his neck to bring his face down onto his knee.

“OWW, you broke my fuckin’ nose, you lunatic.” He clutched the bleeding appendage and stared at Spike as he stood there smiling like a madman. “Who are you talking about anyway?”

Spike laughed, “Her, Buffy, the Slayer. Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” He threw his hands up in the air. “She’s supposed to be my third slayer, one good day. And now?” He shook his head in disbelief. “I’m competing with a dead guy.”

The other vamp used the time Spike spent in nonsensical ranting to launch himself at the master vampire. It was of no use, Spike’s speed and skill from years of fighting had him sidestepping his opponent’s move, sending him sprawling onto the cement of the sidewalk.

Spike turned to look at the stupid demon as if he hadn’t tried to attack him at all. “Well, not anymore.” He’d had enough; it was time he got to her house instead of playing around with a creature who couldn’t even offer him a decent chance to show off his skills. Taking the stake from his duster, he threw it straight at the demon’s heart, sneering as he watched him turn to dust.

“Yeah, time to go to the Slayer’s house.” Retrieving his stake, he swaggered cockily towards her house while lighting a cigarette. He wasn’t sure what he’d do once he was there and found her safe and sound. Maybe he’d hang around for a bit, perhaps try and get a peek into that secret drawer once he was sure she was asleep, see if he could ‘intercept’ another of her love letters from the git, see what was getting her knickers all twisted up over ‘nancy-boy’.

*~*~*

Meanwhile, in Buffy’s room

William ground his cock into her, little mewling noises escaping her mouth at how deliciously he fit between her thighs, how heavenly it felt to have his body so close to hers as it drove her higher and higher until she almost touched the stars. She’d never felt anything quite like this, even if her treacherous mind kept saying that she had. But how could she? It was like he was burning her from within, like she couldn’t get enough of him, that they couldn’t be close enough.

Completely out of the blue, he stopped kissing her, somehow dislodging her legs from around his waist and settling her on the floor. Before she could even think of opening her eyes to see what was wrong, she felt he wasn’t there with her anymore.

“Nooooo,” she whimpered in her sleep after William disappeared and her dream ended abruptly, leaving her panting in her bed, alone, a thin layer of sweat covering her body and making her shiver as the cold of the night cooled her overheated skin. “Don’t go, don’t leave me.”

She had been so close, so very close, she could almost taste it, could almost feel it as it lay out of her reach. Almost.

She was nearly awake now, but she refused to open her eyes, begging her body and her mind to drift back to sleep and let her return to the wonderful dream that had stopped so suddenly. Surely if she didn’t open her eyes he’d come back and finish what he started? And even if he didn’t, she would have to. She couldn’t stay like that, so close and yet so far away from reaching completion. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been as turned on as she’d been tonight and they’d simply kissed. She ignored the little voice that whispered there had been other kisses that made her feel like that, kisses very recently received from someone else.

Breathing deeply, she relaxed her body as much as she could, clearing her mind from every thought that wasn’t centered on William, remembering how she felt when he held her in his arms, how his lips felt as they moved over hers, how his body fit hers as if he’d been made just for her, how he made her burn for him so easily, how he... She drifted off, somewhere in the realm where dreams and wakefulness meshed.

They’d moved to the comfort of her bed. He was leaning over her, his legs nestled between her thighs, right where he belonged. Their kisses turned more passionate, his hands getting acquainted with her body as they slowly but surely moved to where she needed them most.

“Mmmmm, William,” she moaned.

Sighing, her hand moved instinctively under her pajama shorts, teasing her slit through her panties, not surprised to find them drenched with her juices. Sliding her fingers beneath them, she was lost in the fantasy that it was William’s fingers, not hers that were bringing her closer to paradise.

“Oh, William, more!” she begged.

*~*~*

Throwing his third cigarette butt into Joyce’s flowerbed, he stared back up at the Slayer’s window, bidding his time to make his move as he concentrated on listening for her breathing pattern to indicate she was deep in sleep, silently musing to himself how much better he was than this William bloke. If he could figure out what it was about that desk, why it seemed familiar to him, he would solve the mystery behind why she was receiving these letters, could prove to her just how foolish and misplaced her ‘feelings’ were.

It suddenly occurred to him what he needed to do. He would break into her room and find the secret drawer. See if there was anything there for her, waiting to be read. If there was, he’d steal it, keeping it to himself until he could figure out exactly what was going on. She’d probably be mad at first, but once he had proof it was some sort of magical trap to lure her into and end her life, surely she’d be grateful for his intervening, wouldn’t she? And if there was nothing more than her own letter in the drawer waiting for him? Well, he’d take that, too. She’d think William received it. If there was no magical trap, then the git might not ever reply, thinking Buffy had lost her interest in him. Either way it had to end, no good could come from it whether it was a spell or the real deal.

His plan in the forefront of his mind, he tuned into listening again to her breathing, to be sure she was indeed asleep before climbing the tree towards her window.

Crawling silently into her room, with his enhanced night vision he quickly found the desk and headed directly for it. Bending down, he was about to search the underside of the antiquity first when he was startled by the sound of the slayer shifting in her bed.

“Mmmmm, William.”

His blood went from cold to boiling hot in under a second. The desk forgotten, he stood and stared at her sleeping form. He picked up the sound of her heart rate increasing along with the heady scent of her arousal; he could see her hand moving underneath her shorts as she touched herself. Bloody Hell! She was shagging the git in her sleep while he stood in her room helpless to do anything about it. Walking closer to the bed his nostrils flared as her scent grew stronger. He was going to do whatever it took to stop this nonsense right now. No one had a right to shag the slayer but him, and since she wouldn’t shag him then no one else would either.

Anger overtook rational thought as he crawled onto the bed and made his way to hover over her body. The scent of her lust overpowered him, filling his loins with the need to take her, making him shift into game face. She appealed to his demon on a primal level... want, take, have. And while the man within felt the same, it was her consent that was needed above all. She’d given him a taste, a crumb when she’d kissed him the other night. How could she dream of another man after sharing a kiss with him as if it meant nothing? Did she forget so soon? He simply couldn’t allow for her to forget that. He was here, not this William, him and the beast within raged to lay claim to her, remind her whose arms she had trembled in as he’d kissed her passionately while she responded in kind.

“Oh William, more.”

Her sleep filled plea was the last straw, his demon had had enough. She wanted more? She’d have more, but not from that ponce. She was his slayer and he her vampire and damn any rule that said they were sworn enemies. Lowering his lips to hers his face melted back into his human guise seconds before he felt her grab his head, pulling him the rest of the way towards her mouth.

Buffy had sensed something shifting in her dream; suddenly William’s body felt more real than it had felt before as he hovered over her. He’d pulled back slightly to let her breathe, but hell, who needed to breathe when one was dreaming anyway? So she grabbed his head with her free hand and pulled him towards her, welcoming his weight as her mouth opened to allow his tongue in to play with hers. She decided to ignore that it didn’t feel like a dream anymore, uncaring in lieu of the delicious feeling against her lips and between her legs. The only thing that mattered was that he was here, now and it felt oh so good to be in his arms as she lay beneath him. She removed her hand from under her shorts and brought it up to his back, holding him close, intent on not allowing him to disappear this time.

The Slayer was kissing him, actually kissing him back. He reveled in her taste as her tongue dueled with his, pulling him further inside as if desperate. Lowering his body to rest overtop hers, she parted her legs to cradle his aching groin between her thighs. The need to possess her provoked his hips into thrusting his erection harshly against her center. Her head flung back into the pillow as she moaned her approval of his actions, spurring him on.

He trailed hot kisses along her throat until he reached her jugular. The desire to sink his fangs in it, to have the taste of her thick, potent slayer blood running down his throat became almost unbearable. Too afraid the chip would fire and this moment would end, he settled for sucking hard on the tender vein that beat wildly against his tongue then continued to lick, nibble and kiss a path down her chest between the valley of her breasts. Grabbing one cloth covered nipple between his teeth, he pulled it into his mouth, soaking her T-shirt from the attention he paid to the rosy peak with his mouth.

‘Oh God! This is even better than before,’ she thought, shuddering in pleasure as her dream lover ground his erection into her pussy. She moaned as his mouth left hers, nipping, licking and kissing his way down her jaw, to settle on that oh so sensitive spot in her neck. She felt it shoot straight through to her pussy, like a bolt of electricity, making her hotter, wetter for him, more desperate to have him. She almost felt as if he were marking her and she’d be hard pressed to think if she’d been more turned on in that moment than ever before.

He lowered his head to her breasts, pulling one of her nipples into his mouth and she simply couldn’t think about anything else, concentrating instead on the feeling of his mouth as he brought her closer to orgasm. Her hands traveled the expanse of his back, holding him tight, mewling and moaning as she encouraged him to continue.

Lust dominated his actions when her hands held him to her breast, encouraging him to continue. Not wanting any barrier between her luscious mounds and his tongue, he lifted her shirt and latched onto the opposite breast, licking and teasing it until the tip was as hard as his cock was. Sliding a hand along her side, he raised his hips and reached beneath the waist band of her shorts, seeking out the prize he desired most. He didn’t care how this turn of events came about, his thoughts were centered on making sure she could never deny who actually pleasured her tonight, brought her to orgasm.

“Christ, luv... such a hot little quim. Need me to cool your fire? Make you cum?” he said as he fondled her through the thin material of her underwear. If he woke her then so be it. Maybe she would forgive him, beg him to take her body hard. If she did, he would fuck her senseless, make her cum around his cock so hard she’d pass out.

“God, yes.” She dug her nails into the skin of his shoulders when she felt his fingers teasing her pussy, needing more than just that and knowing that he was the one that could give it to her. After all, if this was her dream she had the right to take full advantage of it, didn’t she? She pushed down on his shoulders, coaxing him to continue his journey south towards her needy center.

Spike was in heaven, or as close to heaven he’d ever be when he realized what it was that she wanted, that she needed. The thought of tasting her there sent his desire into overdrive. The fragrance of her excitement had his demon nearing the surface, making him conscious enough of what he was about to do to keep the beast at bay for fear of truly hurting her and setting the chip off.

Scooting his body down, he pulled the clothes off from her body in one swift move, throwing them over his shoulder, uncaring of where they landed. When she opened her legs instinctively, he snarled. The sight of her dewy cleft beckoned him like a siren to a lonely pirate at sea. He had to be careful, no matter what happened he had to be careful not to become too excited lest his actions wake her. The potential to be turned into ashtray material for defiling her was too great. After this, after getting a taste of her, he simply couldn’t bear the thought of not having more of her, another chance to please her.

She felt his body slide downwards to give her what she needed. She moaned her approval when he rid her lower half of her clothes. She guided her hands to the back of his head, shoving him down to where she needed him the most, sighing dreamily as he drove his tongue inside her. She’d dreamt of someone, anyone, doing this to her after listening to her classmates raving about it, but wow, this was much better than she’d ever expected. She fleetingly wondered how a dream could change so much, how could she feel as if it were truly happening before he pressed a thumb against her clit and she didn’t care any longer about the whys or the hows, other than it was indeed happening.

Panting from anticipation, he felt her hands slide up to the back of his neck to his head, drawing him towards the swollen folds of her sex that glistened with desire. He let her guide him until he was close enough, then drove his tongue deep inside her center. If there was one taste more potent than the blood of a slayer, it was this. Honey, spice, the very essence of the woman who was supposed to be his enemy filled his taste buds. His cock throbbed with all the blood left in his body from his last bagged meal. He rubbed his shaft against her mattress, seeking any friction he could get, uncaring if he spilled himself in his jeans. This was... she was worth it.

He pressed a thumb down hard against her clit, rubbing it rapidly back and forth while he fucked her with his tongue.

Overwhelmed from the sensations swelling inside her body, her eyes fluttered, wanting to see her lover. Her eyes opened slightly, hooded and dazed from passion, the only thing she could make out through the haze of lust were platinum blonde locks on the head feasting from her cunny, driving her over the edge, making her pass out from the pleasure.

Her essence flowed over his tongue as she cried out, making his demon growl while the man inside gloated with pride. He drank deeply from her, swallowing all she had to offer, lapping and cleaning her of every last drop of the precious fluid from her quivering body. God, he wanted to stay right there, do it all over again just to hear her moan from the pleasure he could give her, but he couldn’t. Not only did he have to take care of his own needs as his cock reminded him so very painfully as it throbbed beneath the rough black denim of his pants, but she might wake at any moment and this perfect night could potentially end in disaster.

Moving swiftly from her bed, he picked up her clothes and as carefully as possible, slid them back on to her body, thankful she was sated enough from his attentions to be deep in sleep. He covered her tiny form with the bedspread before heading to the window. Crouching on the sill he glanced back.

“Try and forget about that, Slayer.”

The master vampire leapt from her window straight to the ground below, landing as gracefully as a cat then stood up straight up. Heading off into the night, his only thought was to get back to his crypt and have himself a right good wank.

*~*~*

The next day, at Buffy’s dorm room

“So…you almost…you know, with this William guy in your dreams and then he suddenly turned into Spike and you…” Willow asked, her eyes all but bugging out of their sockets. “And you don’t see where any of that is, well, wrong?”

“Well, I could be wrong about the Spike thing, maybe it was just a trick of the light,” Buffy defended herself. Not that seeing his platinum head between your thighs made you cum harder that you ever have before, did it? That annoying voice inside had her blushing furiously.

She banged her head on the desk to shut the voice up; she had more than enough on her plate with Willow at the moment to have to contend with herself, too. “Ouchie! It’s just that…I seem to have turned into Buffy the slutty Slayer, all of the sudden. I mean, I suddenly start dreaming of William and I have all this feelings for him, and there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do to stop myself from having them.” ‘Or even want to for that matter,’ the little voice added. Although the last part of her dream hadn’t really felt like one, then again nothing of it had felt like one, but that last part, she shuddered, that last part had been much more real than the rest. “So, yeah, William I understand, ‘cause really? The letters he’s been sending me could melt an iceberg, but why the hell would I be dreaming of Spike? Do you think there’s any chance that all this is because of your spell gone wonky?”

Willow paled. “N-no, no, of course not. Maybe?” She whimpered.

“Will, please tell me you are not serious.” Buffy rolled her eyes. Just what she needed.

“I-I, well, there weren’t supposed to be any side effects to the spell after I revoked it.”

“But there could be?” the blonde pressed.

“I’m not sure?”

“Maybe you could do some research.”

“Research. Yes, of course. I’m all with the research; call me research-o gal.”

‘Why oh why doesn’t that comfort me.’ “Oh, and Willow?”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t tell anyone about this conversation?”

“Sure, don’t worry, Buffy. I’ll be a tomb, although maybe not a tomb since they’re creepy and damp and dirty and eep…shutting up now.” She zipped her lips when Buffy looked at her intently.

Buffy rolled her eyes and took an elastic holder from over the desk, fixing her hair in a ponytail as she sighed. Oh, well, maybe Will could actually keep her secret; it wasn’t as if her friend was a blabbermouth, so she really had no reason to distrust her. But after the damned spell, she couldn’t bring herself to trust the redhead’s abilities as much as she’d trusted them before.

She turned towards Willow to find her friend’s disbelieving eyes fixed on her neck as she gasped and pointed at her.

“What?”

“Y-your…” the redheaded girl cleared her suddenly dry throat, and pointed to Buffy’s neck. “Your—” She said, unable to finish the sentence, as she started to hyperventilate. Oh God, oh God, oh God, what if this was really all her fault?

“My… what Willow? My neck?” Buffy asked clearly annoyed, as she walked over to the mirror on the back of the closet door. It seemed Willow was referring to something on her neck. She could never be sure when her friend was acting like that. She sighed as she reached the mirror then screamed when she saw what her friend had seen.

TBC

Chapter XIII: A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

Buffy closed her eyes tightly after she finished screaming, inhaling deeply as she tried to control her breathing. When she opened her eyes again there wouldn’t be anything blemishing the skin of her neck. What happened last night had been a dream, only a dream. And what she’d seen on her neck must have been a trick of the light. ‘Yeah, that was it, just a trick of the light,’ she convinced herself. ‘Now, open your eyes slowly and you’ll see that there’s nothing there to worry about.’

She opened her eyes and almost felt like screaming again when she saw the damned thing was still there. No matter which way she turned, it was there, mocking her, taunting her.

‘Okay, Buffy, breathe in, breathe out. There has to be a perfectly logical explanation for this…this thing on your neck. There’s just absolutely no way that it can be what you think it is, is there?’

Even with the evidence staring back at her from the mirror, she refused to even entertain the idea that her dream had been anything but that. It had to be a dream, but what if it hadn’t been? What then? This couldn’t be happening, not to her. There had to be a reasonable explanation for it, maybe…maybe…

‘Maybe at some point last night Spike was really there with you in your room,’ that annoying inner voice seemed unable to stay silent as the image of platinum locks nestled between her thighs came unbidden to her mind. But no, that couldn’t be possible. Spike had gone nowhere near her room last night, she would’ve felt him if he had, wouldn’t she?

‘Oh, c’mon, you felt him, remember? You felt the change in your dream, I know you did. You felt the exact moment when William stopped being William and he became Spike. You can’t lie to me,’ inner Buffy singsong. Damn her and her knowledge of anything Buffy related! But that didn’t mean she had to accept it. Nu-uh, no way, no how.

And really, who said that dreams couldn’t change? Plus Spike had been the last guy she’d kissed, and boy, what a kiss that was! ’No, bad Buffy, there’ll be no more remembering of Spike’s kisses or anything else, especially regarding his cameo in the damned dream.’ No matter how much the idea of him doing that to her in said dream made her feel.

She shook her head to clear it from following that train of thought. It had been only a dream and nothing more than that. And nothing, not even the-the, the thing that was on her neck and that would remain nameless for the moment, would convince her of the contrary.

A pitiful whimper pulled her from her musings and with difficulty she tore her eyes away from her neck to look at Willow using the mirror. She instantly regretted it as the smidgeon of hope that blossomed in her chest that this was nothing more than a bad, very bad dream was crushed. Her friend’s expression as she stared at the…thing on her neck spoke volumes. There was no way that she’d make it out of this room without some kind of explanation, confession or whatever. And how on earth was she supposed to explain something that couldn’t possibly be happening? Because a dream was so not supposed to leave physical marks on the dreamer, of that she was sure.

Willow was closer to hyperventilating with each passing second, her gaze locked unwaveringly on the hickey on Buffy’s neck. Because it was a hickey, no amount of wishful thinking would change that fact. This was all her fault, wasn’t it? No matter which way she looked at it, it was all her fault. If she hadn’t cast that spell this wouldn’t be happening.

The worst part was that she couldn’t understand why this was happening. She did the anti-spell spell and according to her calculations and what she knew about spells, everything should have been back to normal or at least as normal as things could get in the Hellmouth.

She so wasn’t looking forward to researching this…thing, what with the increasing possibility that she might have messed up; but she’d promised Buffy she’d research the matter and research the matter she would. Perhaps she needed a little outside help? Yeah, that’s it. Since she had promised not to tell any of the others about it, she couldn’t very well ask them, now could she? But maybe that sweet, shy girl she’d befriended in her Wicca group could help her. At the very least, Tara seemed to be the only one in that lot that had an inkling of what real magic was like.

Yes, that’s what she would do and the sooner the better. And hey, if it helped her avoid the explanations that Buffy would surely ask from her now, all the better. She whimpered pitifully as her eyes focused again on the blondee girl’s neck. As if she needed any more reminders of how badly she might have messed up.

Willow must have sensed her reticence to talk; either that or she was, or wanted to be as deep in denial as the blonde girl was. Whatever the reason, Buffy gave silent thanks to whoever was listening when the redheaded girl finally stopped staring at her neck and instead babbled some nonsense of having to go to classes. She’d never been so thankful for her friend’s obsession with anything school related than at that moment. She simply couldn’t deal with any of the questions that Willow would have surely made if she’d stayed or the dreaded answers to those questions that could destroy her little dream world that this was nothing but a nightmare.

~~~~~~

Spike showed up at the house on Revello Drive at the usual time, but there was no Slayer to be found inside. Only an upset Joyce that informed him Buffy had left over thirty minutes ago for patrol.

“She seemed a bit preoccupied. Of course when I asked her what was wrong she denied anything. Did you two have a lovers’ quarrel?” Her lips curled up in a smile.

“Joyce, I...”

“Mom,” she corrected him.

“One kiss is a far cry from bein’ lovers, mum.” He rolled his eyes when her smile deepened as if she didn’t believe him. “’S probably jus’ Slayer stuff. Nothin’ to worry ‘bout.” Inside he was more than a little upset that she hadn’t waited for him. She needed him out there with her, now more than ever. Not that he cared if she got knocked on her arse a few times. Might even help the bint to take a knock or two to the head so she’d forget all this William nonsense. “Did she say which cemetery she was goin’ to?”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Bloody hell!” Sure, he could sniff her out, but it would’ve been quicker to know which direction to head in first.

“Watch your language, young man.” She waggled her finger at him.

“`M sorry.” He put his hands in his pocket and ducked his head at her scolding. The possibility that there could be any Frakor demons ou and about and the fact she’d been gone for thirty minutes already made him concerned over her safety. He wasn’t upset anymore that she hadn’t waited for him, now he was mad with her for being so reckless.

“I don’t want my baby girl out there all alone, William. As my future son-in-law, you need to find her and make sure you protect her.” She had her hands on her hips and that determined look in her eyes that said ‘don’t argue with me’. Not that he would, she could be downright scary when she wanted.

“Yes, mum.” ‘Summers’ women, stubborn and bossy till the bitter end. Gonna be the bloody death of me. But truthfully, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Well?” She raised both eyebrows and tapped her foot impatiently.

“Uhmmm... what?”

“Why are you still standing here?”

“Right then. I’ll jus’ be off to go find Bu-the Slayer then.”

“That’s my good boy.” She ruffled his hair with her fingers and chuckled when he tried to duck out of her way.

~~~~~~

Following the trail of her scent led him in the direction of the cemetery where he resided at. His level of irritation dropped a fraction when he thought that maybe she was waiting for him near his crypt and somehow they’d missed running into one another. Still, she should have waited for him. It was risky for her to be alone, what with those demons being capable of rendering her about as dangerous as a newborn kitty, a fact he obviously needed to remind her of.

He skirted around the perimeter of the cemetery then cut through a row of trees. There she was, just strolling along looking like she was bored, twirling her stake in one hand while calling out ‘here vampires’ like they were a bunch of lost kittens. He smirked when he saw the pink scarf she had tied around her neck to hide the place he’d sucked on. Let her work that one out in her pretty little head. There was no way Mr. Long Dead and Buried could have left a physical mark on her through a dream. She had to be smart enough to admit that.

His thoughts strayed as he stood there watching her, reflecting on last night’s real purpose behind breaking into her bedroom... and what he’d actually come away with, not that he was complaining. No, not complaining at all. He could practically feel how warm and soft her lips had felt against his, how smooth her skin felt under his fingers, how his taste buds came alive as her fragrant juices flowed while she trembled under his expert tongue, how she cradled his head to her womanhood and...

“You can come on out now, Spike. I know you’re there.” She’d sensed him nearly three minutes ago, so what the hell was he waiting for? A written invitation?

Snapping out of his reverie at the sound of her voice, he decided it might be fun to play with her a little bit.

“Slayer,” he nodded at her as he walked out of the shadows. “Care to tell a bloke why you decided to go on patrol early?” She rolled her eyes at him.

“You gonna give me the third degree, too?” At his look of confusion, she explained, “Already got the speech from mom. Don’t need to hear it from you, too.”

“Don’ get your knickers in a twist. I covered for you, told your mum it was probably Slayer stuff.” He pulled out a cigarette and smirked at the look of surprise on her face.

“You did? Huh. Uhmmm, thanks, I guess.” She left early so she could be alone with her thoughts about last night instead of listening to her mom go on and on about how right she and Spike were for each other. Any other night she might have humored her, but tonight? She had too many things swirling around in her head that needed sorting out.

“`S nice scarf, Slayer.” He noticed her toying with it and took the open door of opportunity. “Any particular reason why you’re wearin’ it?”

“What? N-no.” She walked away from him, hoping he’d drop the subject. “Why would you ask?” She readjusted it to make sure it covered the mystery…eh, thingy.

“You sure some nasty didn’ get a taste of you? A li’l love bite, perhaps?” He caught up with her and grabbed the tail end of the pink scrap of material, playfully tugging at it.

“Hey!” She slapped his hand away. “What do you think you’re doing?”

He dropped his hand. “Jus’ checkin’ to see if `m right.” He took a good look at her face and smirked. “Dreams kept you up last night?”

“Why would you say something like that?” She felt nervous at his questioning. He couldn’t possibly know anything about her dreams, could he? ‘Not unless it wasn’t a hallucination when you saw platinum hair below your waistline.’

“You look a bit knackered.” She looked as if he she didn’t believe him. God, he loved making her squirm... especially the way she had last night. “Circles under your eyes.” He pointed at her face.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I had a nightmare last night. And you were in it.”

‘You bloody bint.’ She was lying her Slayer ass off. She loved every minute of it and he’d swallowed the proof of what his attentions did for her needy little center. He wanted to say as much but that would blow his ruse and afterwards he’d be dust in the wind, no matter how good he’d made her feel.

“Dreamt about you, too, pet,” he went on as if what she said hadn’t pissed him off. “A right good dream it was, too.” He reached up and nonchalantly wiped his chin, hoping she caught his purposeful movement. ‘Take that.’ She was fidgeting with her scarf again and was that... He stopped dead in his tracks and sniffed the air. Yup, his Slayer was getting aroused.

As soon as he mentioned his own dream, the vision of his head between her thighs instantly sprang to mind. When he wiped his chin, there wasn’t much she could do to stop the unwanted response from her body that had her womb tightening as she remembered how intense an orgasm he, no, not he... William gave her.

“So, dust any of your fellow, non-chipped brethren on the way in?” She didn’t like the direction this conversation was heading in so she changed the subject. No way was she going to allow him to bait her into asking what his dream had entailed. “Spike?” He wasn’t walking with her anymore; he was standing behind her smelling the air with his eyes closed. “What is it?” She wondered what kind of demon he’d picked up on because she sensed no other vampires around except for him. “A Freaky demon?”

“Frakor demon, luv, but no…” Opening his eyes, he walked towards her and shook his head in the negative, stopping to stand before her. “Somethin’ a bit more,” he leaned in close to her face, “tasty.”

“Tasty? Are you on something tonight?” She backed away from him but he followed her.

“Not yet, but `m hopin’ too.” He exaggerated his inhale and looked down her body then slowly raked his eyes back up to hers. “Mmmmmmm.” He licked his bottom lip.

“Ewwww. Gross, Spike. I don’t know where you get off thinking anything is ever going to happen between you and I.” He gave her another one of those irritating smirks.

“I know where I’d like to get off.” He hooked both thumbs through his belt and rocked on his heels, forcing his groin out a bit to emphasize his point.

She raised Mr. Pointy threateningly at him, even as she backed herself up into a tree against his steady advance. “You are two seconds away from being dust if you don’t stop with that. Back the hell OFF!”

“You know you don’ really want to do that, sweetheart.” He raised his hand and wrapped his fingers around her wrist with lightening speed and pulled the stake directly over his heart.

“What the hell are you doing?” Was he insane? He knew she couldn’t dust him and not because of whatever the hell was going on between them or because he made her body quiver in all the right places with a single look from those sinfully blue eyes, no. She just needed his help on patrol. She certainly didn’t need him between her legs like he was suggesting even though the thought coupled with his suggestive remarks were causing the tingle between her thighs to spread. ‘Damn him, what the hell is he trying to prove?’

He held his smirk then released her wrist to run his fingers over hers. Gripping the stake lightly, he started stroking it up and down suggestively, tilting his head to side as he heard her heart rate increase. “You know you wanna dance,” he whispered.

“Shut the hell up!”

“Make me,” he said, infuriating smirk firmly in place.

Something snapped inside her then, something primal, something she refused to acknowledge, something that made her pounce on him, made her drop the stake to the ground so she could put her hands on his cheeks and forcefully bring his mouth down to smash against hers.

Her only intention had been to shut him up. It seemed like a good idea at the time, the perfect way to silence him. It wasn’t as if she wanted to experience yet again how his silky, cool lips felt over hers, how his tongue played against hers as they got lost in the taste of the other, how his hands seemed to know exactly where to touch her to make her skin hum with pleasure and her blood boil with passion. No, no, of course not, that hadn’t been her intention at all. So, how it had escalated from there to where they were now she wasn’t sure. If she were to be completely honest with herself right now, she’d have to admit that she couldn’t care less about the how; the only thing that mattered at the moment was that she was here, wrapped in his arms, surrounded by the hunky flesh of salty goodness that was Spike.

She moaned huskily as their tongues entwined and his hand crept up to cup her breast over her lacy bra. She hadn’t even noticed when he’d slid his hand under her top, but she wasn’t about to complain. Especially not when the feelings he was eliciting inside her reminded her of those she’d felt the night before in her dream. He circled her waist with his free arm, and without stopping his sinfully delicious kisses, pulled her away from the tree and half-carried her until her back was completely flattened against a crypt wall.

He wasn’t sure why he’d felt bold enough to taunt the Slayer like he had. By all rights she should have dusted him. But now that she was in his arms where she belonged, kissing him back, allowing him to touch her, running her own hands all over his body, well, it seemed opening his big mouth had paid off for once. He groaned as she fumbled with his shirt to slide her hands inside then dragged her sharp little fingernails down the skin of his back. He gave her an experimental thrust to see just how far she would allow this to go. She responded by raising one leg up to wrap it around his thigh. He growled low in his throat at the feel of her warmth as he rubbed his erection against her center. God, he wanted to be inside her so bad right now.

Any rational thoughts she may have had left in her head over what she was doing and why flew out the window the moment he began pumping his hips against hers. He felt so good, fit so perfectly between her legs, everything felt so right. She could feel her underwear becoming soaked at the thought of how it would feel to have him sliding in and out of her. As he pressed her harder against the stone wall, she tried to bring her other leg up, desperate for more contact.

He sensed the intent behind her movements and reached both hands around, cupped her luscious bottom and lifted her so she could wrap her legs around his waist.

He was driving her insane with lust. His strong hands held her backside, pulling her firmly into his thrusts while his amazing lips devoured her. Her body responded, undulating against his in unison with his movements, trying to find release even though they were both still fully clothed. She had to have more. Using one arm, she reached behind her and pushed against the wall, forcing him to stagger backwards.

The smell of her arousal was so strong, so intoxicating to both the man and the vampire that he could feel his demon screaming to allow him to come forth. Not to kill her, oh no, to claim her, to take her hard and make her his. He pushed his demon down, forced him back, aware that his Slayer wouldn’t want that and neither did he. Not like this at least, maybe someday… Suddenly, he was stumbling backwards and tripped over a headstone before he could regain his balance, landing flat on his back with an armful of slayer who picked up the beat of their kissing by grabbing his face as she rocked her hips against his. He squeezed her bottom firmly and rolled them over.

“Ahhh,” she gasped as he flipped them over, pressing his weight against her, pushing the rock hard bulge between his legs even harder into her, creating an intense friction on her clit she thought for sure was going to send her over the edge. She held his head as he assaulted her mouth again, his tongue sweeping across hers, drawing more moans from her throat, creating a need in her womb so great she wanted to weep.

Her passion filled moans were like music to his ears, spurring him on to reach a hand between them to pop open the button of her jeans.

Neither saw nor heard the sound of a newly risen vampire as he made his way out of the earth. He righted himself, shook the dirt from his clothes then looked around as he sniffed the air. There was another vampire near by and something else. Something just as powerful as a vampire but it was laced with the scent of sex. Confused, he walked around a rather large gravestone towards the sound of moaning and took in the sight with much curiosity. He could tell the man was the vampire, but the woman, though she held power, was most definitely not. Matter of fact, she smelled mostly human. His bloodlust to feed was temporarily pushed to the side, however, as he watched the couple writhing about on the ground in mock fornication. Why wasn’t this vampire feeding from her? He was in a perfect position to rip her throat out. It was disgusting, it was wrong, he shouldn’t be trying to fuck her, he should be draining her. He saw the vampire reach for the girl’s pants and had enough of the sickening display. He cleared his throat, once, twice...

The sound of someone clearing their throat brought their attention to the left to stare at a man in soiled clothes and full vampire visage as he stared down at them with his hands on his hips.

“Uhmm… Eww. That’s just... ewwww.” He shook his head back and forth.

Everything hit her at once, the reality of what she was doing, what she was about to do —or rather who she was about to let do her— the fact there was another vampire around and neither of them had noticed, too busy trying to get it on. No, no, this wouldn’t do, this wouldn’t do at all. Pressing her hands to his chest, she shoved him off her body and leapt up to retrieve her stake.

Spike lay on the ground unsure of what the fuck had happened. One second he’d had his arms full of very willing Slayer and the next, she’d thrown him away from her delectable body. He watched her as she moved quickly, throwing her stake directly at the other vampire who instantly exploded. He got to his feet just as she bent over to pick up her weapon.

She turned to find Spike taking a step towards her, opening his mouth to speak. She held her hand up. “Don’t.” She couldn’t deal with this, with him, with whatever it was he was going to say.

He stopped, seeing the scared look in her eyes right before she took two steps backwards then turned and bolted out of the cemetery. He called out to her.

"Buffy, please! SLAYER!!!" It was of no use, she wasn’t going to stop and listen to anything he had to say. He really buggered things up now and wasn’t sure how, if at all possible, to fix it. He looked down at the painful erection that now throbbed with all the blood left in his body. “Bloody hell!” He’d have to think it over later because right now, he was left for a second night in a row with nothing but his hand for relief. If they kept this dance up on a nightly basis, he was going to develop one hell of a callous.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took Buffy fifteen minutes under the spray of an ice cold shower to get her body cooled down and all sexual thoughts of Spike out of her mind. What was she thinking? What was he thinking? Okay, okay, it felt nice, incredible, amazing... exactly the reason why it shouldn’t have happened. She had William to think about. William loved her, not Spike. Spike wasn’t capable of love, was he?

The sudden thought that perhaps William had written her back had her scrambling to put on her pajamas and get back to her room, forget about blow-drying her hair.

She walked towards the desk but froze before touching it. William had her picture now, knew what she looked like. Was she what he had envisioned, would she be pretty enough to him? Would he still love her? She had to know, had to find out. Closing her eyes, she pulled on the secret panel and held her breath.

Opening her eyes she found that he’d left her not one, but two letters, or rather one letter and one package less than half an inch thick and square shaped. She carefully picked them both up. The square package was wrapped up in brown parcel paper with twine-like string holding it together. She weighed it in her hand, examined it, half tempted to just rip into it in hopes it was his picture but she couldn’t. Not until she’d satisfied her worry over what he thought of her. She walked to the bed, laid the package on her nightstand then offered up a silent prayer and opened his letter.


My dearest Elizabeth,

The moment I saw your portrait, all breath left my body. Every word for beautiful entered my head, but none was worthy enough to describe your heavenly image. It seems I was correct. You are an angel, my angel. Of all the beautiful women I have seen, not one could ever hope to compare themselves to your loveliness. Please do not misunderstand my ranting, for your beauty goes much farther and deeper than that which your photograph shows me. It pours out through your eyes so green, like the finest of jade from the Orient. It radiates and glows all around you like an effulgent vision of heaven on earth. I swore I could almost feel the silk of your skin as I tried to touch that beauty in hopes of bringing you to life to stand before me so I could bathe in it. I knew even before seeing you that I was in love, but now I fear I am lost. Hopelessly lost and drowning in you though I wish not to be saved.

I must admit that I had a most trying day full of many troubles before I came upon your letter. But your heartfelt words soothed my soul and put my mind at ease like a gentle breeze on a warm summer day. The poem you chose to convey your feelings moved me, so much so that I do not know nor care to remember what my life was like before you entered it.

As I lay in my bed, weary from the day and in need of rest, one thought from you stayed with me as I drifted off. I do not know if it was that thought or the power of my own desire for it to happen, but I dreamt of you. It was a blissful dream, one in which I obtained your permission for a kiss and your lips tasted of the sweetest nectar. I hope that does not scare you, but it felt so real, like I was truly there with you. When I woke, it saddened me that it was only a dream but reaffirmed my desire to find a way for us to be together one day.

I have enclosed a photograph of myself and can only hope that you do not find me repulsive. I don’t think I could bare it if I lost you. So I pray that when you gaze upon it, you find something about me to your liking.

Your William


She clutched the letter to her chest. Her heart rate picked up when she read his words to describe the flavor of her lips, sweet nectar, and the fact he asked for her permission, just as he’d done in her dream. This seemed a bit more than just a mere coincidence but she quickly reminded herself that his way of speaking, of writing was from a much different era and maybe that’s why she dreamt of him saying something like that. And being ever the Victorian gentleman, of course he would ask her permission, unlike someone else, or rather one vampire in particular who never asked her permission for anything even if she was the one who initiated their kiss.

She shook that thought from her head. There will be no thoughts of Spike while holding William’s letter. She set the letter down and leaned over to retrieve William’s package that contained his picture. She carefully pulled the string and the paper unfolded slowly on its own. What was revealed to her made her heart nearly stop.

“No,” she whispered. “It can’t be.”

tbc

Hope you’re still with us in this story. Happy Valentine’s Day tomorrow!

*smooches and hugs*

Chapter XIV. Identity Crisis

“Willow, you won’t believe what I—” Buffy said as she entered her dorm room in a rush, stopping mid-sentence when she realized that her friend was not alone. The two girls sitting on the bed jumped to their feet immediately, making her suspicious as to what had been taking place between them before she interrupted, which was reinforced by the blushes that covered their faces and necks. What’s been going on here? It couldn’t be what she was thinking about, could it? “Hmm, hi, err, am I interrupting?” She looked from one blushing girl to the other.

“N-no, Buffy, you’re not interrupting anything, why would you say that?” She forced a laugh. “Hey, have you met Tara?”

“No, can’t say I have. Hi, Tara, I’m Buffy, Willow’s roommate.”

“H-hello, it’s n-nice to meet you. Willow talks a lot a-about you.”

“Really? She’s talked about you, too,” she lied. The girl seemed nice but very, very shy so she figured it wouldn’t hurt to try to put her at ease. And sure enough, the white lie garnered her a sweet and thankful smile as Tara glanced shyly toward Willow. Hmm, yes, suspicious, very much so.

“Tara has been helping me research the ‘thy will be done’ spell and its possible consequences, Buffy.”

Buffy’s eyes widened comically at that. “B-but…”

“D-don’t worry, I-I… your secret is safe with me, I p-promise,” Tara hurried to clarify.

“Will, err, could I talk to you for a second… you know, outside?”

“Sure. We’ll be right back, Tara, okay?” The blond girl nodded, following the other two girls with her eyes as they walked out of the room.

“You think that’s wise, Willow?” Buffy asked as soon as they stepped out of the room.

Willow didn’t even pretend she didn’t know what Buffy was asking her about. “Buffy, it’s alright, I promise, she won’t tell anyone.”

“Alright, alright, I trust you, but who is she? You’ve never talked about her before and now she’s all with the friendliness and knowing about me and—”

“I…she’s a friend from the Wicca group, you remember that I told you I joined the one on Campus?” Buffy nodded and Willow continued, “To be honest, she’s probably the only one aside from me in the whole group that has an idea of what being a witch really is, so we started hanging together to try spells and such and became fast friends. She’s truly a very powerful witch; you should see some of the things she’s taught me.”

Buffy smiled at Willow’s enthusiastic description of Tara. Seemed she hadn’t been that far off her mark. Not that she’d leave it like that, it was her duty as her best friend to tease her regarding possible love interests, so she erased the smile from her face and arched a brow inquisitively, asking, “Are you sure you’re just friends? ‘Coz it looked like a bit more than that going on when I came into the room. And hey, were you ever going to introduce her to me?”

Willow looked into her friend’s eyes, surprised by her questions but most of all, that she’d actually noticed that they were acting more than ‘friendly-like’ toward the other when she came in. “Well, I’m not sure yet, but there might be something there,” she answered honestly, a bright red blush tingeing her cheeks once more. “And of course I was gonna introduce her to you, it’s just that… you know, it’s so new and I wanted to keep it to myself for a while, feel like I had something that was only…”

“Yours, I get that.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I truly do. Remember the desk?” They both giggled. “’Kay, you’ll tell me when there is something else between you two, won’t you? After all, I’m your best friend; I hope I still am at least,” she said, half-teasingly.

“Oh Buffy, of course you are and I promise you’ll be the first one to know when there’s something to know. Anyway, Tara is really good at researching, so we might find something very soon on that spell.” She turned to enter the room again, but Buffy’s hand on her arm stopped her.

“She seems nice, Wills.”

Willow beamed at her before going through the door. “She is.”

“Ev-everything okay?” Tara asked, wringing her hands nervously.

“Everything is perfect, Tara,” Buffy answered with a bright smile. “Will tells me you’ve been helping her research?”

“Y-yes,” she replied unsurely.

“Good, since we’ll need all the help we can get.” She breathed in deeply before continuing, handing her friend the frame she’d been holding close to her chest. “I found this yesterday... last night after patrol, inside the secret panel. Take a look at it and tell me I’m crazy for thinking what I’m thinking?”

“But what are you—“

“Just look at it, Willow and tell me… please?”

More than a little curious why her friend was acting so weird, Willow took the picture from Buffy’s hands then gasped. It couldn’t be. Could it? Nah, it had to be some trick of light. Although she imagined there was no trick of light that could fake those cheekbones, was there? Oh Goddess, was this her fault, too?

“So what’s the verdict? Am I crazy or not?”

“Depends, are you sure William sent this to you? I mean, don’t you think Spike could be playing a joke on you?”

“No, I don’t think so. William sent me a letter along with the picture and I’m sure it’s him. I… he’s… I know he’s Spike. It goes way beyond the resemblance. It's like I feel it in my heart, especially after the things Spike and I...” she cut herself short, not wanting to divulge all the kisses they'd shared as of late.

“The things Spike and you… What?!” Willow paled. There’s no way Buffy was implying what she thought, could she?

Oops. “Err, you know… I told you about that, I’m sure I did, that William had turned into Spike in my dream? Remember?” Hopefully that covered her tracks.

“Yes, I remember,” Willow replied unconvinced.

“What did you think I meant? You can’t possibly believe there’s something going on between Spike and me, can you?” Even if there is and it’s much more than you want to admit, the annoying little voice added. Buffy wrung her hands in her lap, trying to appear affronted at the thought, but only managed to make herself appear guilty.

“Buffy, what aren't you telling me? Because I think I know you well enough to know when you’re hiding something. H-has something happened with Spike other than the dream or the spell-induced engagement?” She almost dreaded what she was sure would be the answer but Buffy had been awfully supportive with the whole Tara issue, even going as far as doing her best to make her girlfriend feel more at ease in her presence. She turned to look at Tara and found her smiling softly, reassuringly at Buffy and decided to do the same. After all even if her suspicions turned out to be true, at least Spike was a whole lot more likeable than Angel ever was.

“Yes,” Buffy replied meekly.

“Now we’re getting somewhere. So, what if William and Spike turned out to be the same person, would you mind it very much?”

"I-I..." Would she mind? If they are... it means he found a way. He found a way. And was it so bad? No, of course it isn’t. Because... He found a way for us to be together, to overcome time and distance so the love he’d promised in his letters would turn into a beautiful reality. So Spike was no Prince Charming, that’s for sure, but he had a lot of the qualities she admired in a man, he made her feel… like she never had before. Not with Angel and certainly not with Parker. She knew he had a softer side that he kept hidden, that William side that she longed to discover now that she knew it was there. “No, I wouldn’t mind at all.”

Willow sighed, not surprised by Buffy’s answer even if she would have preferred it to be different. Now it was her turn to be the supportive friend, Buffy didn’t need her recrimination. Not now and especially if William didn't turn out to be Spike. She would be devastated if that were the case, but she would be there for her and somehow would see her friend through it. And even if William was truly dead, if he hadn't found a way for them to be together, and if, as she suspected, Spike was someone with whom her friend COULD find happiness with then she would help her find that happiness with Spike. Life was nothing without someone to share it with whether it was a witch, a human or… yes… even a vampire… It didn’t matter, all that mattered was to find a love that would be enough to go through everything together, the good, the bad and everything in between. And Buffy deserved that, whether that everlasting love could be found in William, Spike, or both if they were the same person.

“Okay, then how about we go to the computer lab, do some research now then maybe Tara and I can visit Giles later? Hit the books? Don’t worry, we won’t tell him anything about this, we’ll just say we’re researching some spell for the Wicca group or whatever.” She giggled at her friend’s surprised yet thankful expression and winked, taking Tara’s hand in hers and looking pointedly at her friend, who just nodded happily.

~*~*~*~*~*~

After extracting the promise from both witches that they were going to continue researching both the web and Giles’ books until they found everything they could about William Pratt, Buffy left, deciding to go home and change her clothes before picking Spike up at his crypt for an early patrol. Of course, changing her clothes into something slightly more feminine than her usual slaying attire had nothing to do with the fact that she was going to see him. No, it had nothing to do with Spike at all. Not even if her mother’s all-knowing smile when she saw her and told her where she was off to said that she thought differently. If anything that damned smile almost made her go back upstairs and change back into her jeans instead of wearing the short black leather skirt with slits on both sides, red halter top and knee high boots she’d chosen.

She would’ve hated to change though. She looked pretty damned good if she said so herself, not that she was trying to impress anyone let alone a certain vampire, but her outfit was stylish yet still comfortable enough to fight in.

“I should start my own line of clothing, call it Slayer Wear. Make it dust-proof and trendy," she thought out loud as she walked through the streets of Sunnydale towards Restfield Cemetery. “Who says you can’t look good and fight the undead at the same time? It would sure save me the hassle of going home to change after a hard night of slaying before heading to the Bronze.”

Her mind drifted back to her afternoon of researching with Willow and Tara, they hadn’t found any info on William… yet. Still, she was convinced that whatever they eventually found would confirm her suspicions that William and Spike were one and the same—and why on earth wasn’t she more wigged out by that? Much to the contrary, the possibility that they could be the same person left her breathless and almost giddy with anticipation. Because it meant he had found a way, just as he promised he would, for them to be together. Sure, it wasn’t the most conventional way, but as long as it worked... However, there was something bothering her. Why was it that Spike hadn’t remembered the letters they’d exchanged or the desk? She knew he knew about the letters she’d been exchanging with William, he’d told her so. Hell! He’d found her writing to William and even read part of her letter. So why hadn’t he said anything about it then? Duh, Buffy! How could you forget about that? she thought, wishing there was a wall nearby to bang her head on it. The answer was obvious, she had written to him as Elizabeth, not Buffy. There was no way he could know they were one and the same now, could he? No, of course not.

Especially since she hadn’t been too forthcoming with the information. Not that she had any reason to be all with the forthcoming or anything anyway. How was she even supposed to guess that Spike and William could be the same guy? It wasn’t like Spike was anything like her sweet William, although he wasn’t exactly your run-of-the-mill-all-with-the-evil vampire, either. No, he was different, always had been from the first moment their paths crossed. He was capable of loving with his whole being and didn’t need a soul for that, for one, unlike certain vampires that shall remain nameless to protect the not-so-innocent. From what she’d seen of his interaction with Drusilla, insane vamp-ho that she was, he was loyal and devoted. She had to give him credit for that, even if it almost made her lose all the contents of her stomach to think of them together. And of course, that he has a body that would put to shame that of a Greek god doesn’t hurt either, the annoying little voice inside her head added… not that she could really deny the truth of that statement or wanted to anymore for that matter.

She stopped with her musings when she found herself standing at the door to his crypt, a little dazed as to how it was she’d arrived without noticing and more than a little confused as to how to act now that she came face to face with Spike.

How does one act when faced with your former pain-in-the-ass, mortal-enemy, potential-boyfriend… err, vamp-of-your-dreams? Especially considering the ‘near-sex’ they’d almost engaged in last night before that stupid fledgling ruined… ahem, did her the huge favor of interrupting them before it actually happened. Because if he hadn’t, she shivered, she wasn’t sure she would have had the strength or the will to stop them from having sex… in a cemetery of all places. Now, though, today, at this minute? Well... if Spike and William were one and the same, it was an experience she could look forward to with no regrets.

She entered the crypt, hoping he wouldn’t be inside while at the same time excited to see him, if that made any sense at all. Not that any of what had been happening to her lately made any sense either.

Huh! He wasn’t on the top level and when she called his name, there was no answer or noise that could account for the vampire’s whereabouts. Could he be sleeping? Her mind instantly supplied an image of a naked Spike sprawled on his bed and she had to suppress a moan at her body’s reaction to said image. Berating herself for those naughty thoughts but… unable to stop herself from finding out if it could be the case, she went down the ladder to the lower level as slowly and stealthily as she could so as to not to alert him were it true. Disappointment bloomed in her chest when she clearly saw he wasn’t there either. Where could he be? Not that it mattered… much, but it wasn’t like he had a huge social life so where could he be if he wasn’t in his crypt? They hadn’t made plans for tonight but… she felt the warmth of the blush that crept upon her face when she remembered the reason why they hadn’t. Still, it was nearing their usual time to patrol so where the hell could he be?

Deciding to wait until he showed up—not like she had anything better to do than to wait and hey, hadn’t Giles, her mother and Spike almost made her swear over the bible that she wouldn’t patrol by herself?—she sat on his bed. Oooh, comfy, she thought, running a hand over the black silk sheets before surveying the room. She’d never been down here before, only upstairs, and while she’d known that her mother had given him some furniture, she never expected a crypt could look so… homey.

The bookcase she saw to the left of the bed seemed awfully familiar. Wasn’t it the same one he had upstairs the last time she was here? The one where he’d hidden his notebook? The same notebook he’d very suspiciously put away as if not wanting her to read what was inside? What was he hiding in it? Could it hold at least some of the answers she’d been hoping to get tonight?

“Should I?” she asked herself, already half-way to the bookcase. She shrugged, of course she should. After all it was his own fault. If he’d been here when she arrived as he was supposed to be, she wouldn’t be downstairs or even remember the damned thing. Decision made, she stood on her tip-toes until she reached the notebook, which thankfully was still on the same shelf he’d originally placed it on.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she stared at it. This was it, she was sure. She could feel it in her blood, in her soul. When she opened this, she would have her answers. Suddenly, she was scared. Scared of what she’d find inside. Scared of what she might not find. Those things she wanted to find. What she held in her hands could confirm or deny her suspicions and now… when faced with it, she wasn’t sure which option she preferred.

She sat on the floor, her knees trembling so hard that she felt if she didn’t, she would fall. With shaky breaths and quivering hands, she slowly opened the notebook.

Her eyes filled with tears the moment they affixed themselves to the familiar handwriting. She could recognize it anywhere, knew it by heart. It was the same that adorned his letters. But it wasn’t just that, oh no. The pages were filled with poems. Poems about… her? No, not her, about the Slayer; then again, she was the Slayer. There was an entry note for each, complete with date, starting from that first fateful night outside the Bronze. She read through the pages, they were all about her. One of them, near the end of the notebook, however, was about her, Buffy, the girl, the woman and his feelings for her, not for the Slayer.

Only tell me you love me
And I’ll stop howling to the moon
You have a better understanding than me
Of this world and its creatures

Take out my heart,
Pull me out of this place
And take me far away

Surround me with mirrors
I want to see only your reflection

Obsession, a joke of destiny put you in my way
Obsession, when you’re not with me you are my obsession

Let your … heart show me all your secrets
And your domino effect break down all my fears

It’s impossible, my love, that all this grieve and pain
Has been imposed by God or by whomever
We have to fight it, you are my obsession

Obsession, a joke of destiny put you in my way
Obsession, when you’re not with me you are my obsession

So what if it wasn’t perfect? Who cared about metric and rhymes when it was heartfelt? Was this what he felt for her? What he thought of their relationship? She had to accept that her predisposition of falling for vampires, the very beings she was destined to kill, was truly a joke of destiny.

She turned the page and read the last poem, gasping what she realized what it was about.

Who are your arms going to fool now
Who are your lips going to lie now
Who are you going to tell “I love you”
And then in silence you’ll give him your body
You’ll stop time over your pillow
He’ll spend a thousand hours looking into your eyes
There’ll only be life loving you
And now who would it be?

And who will write you poems and letters
And who will tell you of his fears and faults
And who will you let sleep over your back
And then when it’s silent you’ll tell him “I love you”
You’ll stop his breath over your face
He’ll lose his path lost in your eyes
And will forget his life loving you
Now who would it be?

Who would it be if it’s not me
I look at myself and cry on the mirror and I feel stupid
Illogical, and then I imagine you giving him the scent of your skin
Your kisses, your eternal smile and even your soul in a kiss
In a kiss goes the soul
And in my soul goes the kiss that could have been

Whose bed would you leave your scent on?
Whose memories will you be on tomorrow?
Whose hours will go by with calm?
And then in the silence will want your body
Time will stop in his face
Who will spend a thousand hours in the window
Who will lose his voice calling for you
Now who would it be?
Now who would it be?

Tears streamed down her face by the time she finished reading. He was jealous… of himself. She’d wondered, if only to herself, whenever she read one of the books of poetry that they assigned her through high school or in College, if she’d ever be the kind of girl, of woman, to inspire anyone to write something as heartbreakingly beautiful as this poem was. If she’d ever be able to inspire that kind of passion, of… dare she say it, love, in someone.

Love. He loved her. He had to or at least he had to feel something deep for her. No one could write something like this and feel nothing for the person they were writing about. Did she love William? She was enamored of all he made her feel with his words, of his romanticism, but it had been mostly a dream… it was hard to evaluate her feelings for a dream since she’d been more than aware that she couldn't be WITH him physically, and with Spike??? Could she love him? When they HAD shared things so physical, so nearly intimate???? Maybe not yet, but she could, easily, very easily. He was William and he was Spike, he was all she ever wanted and all she never imagined she could have.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Meanwhile at Buffy’s house

“Have you been drinking?” Joyce asked Spike after giving him a hug.

“Jus’ a couple beers, Joy— er, mum.” Her look of disapproval was a mirror image of her daughter’s, reminding him why he’d gone to Willy’s in the first place before having to face the slayer.

“You may be more than old enough to drink but I don’t like it one bit since you’re supposed to be protecting my little girl while on patrol. Speaking of, Buffy left about fifteen minutes ago to find you so you should probably get going.”

“Mum,” he began cautiously. “I was wonderin’.” After the ‘almost sex’ he and the slayer ‘almost’ had last night, he was more than determined to have a look at that desk. If it weren’t for those bleeding love letters, things might have gone differently, might have turned into ‘actual’ sex. “May I see the desk Buffy’s been usin’ to communicate to that bloke with? I won’ take too long... promise.” He gave her the most charming of smiles.

“Certainly, dear. Follow me.” Grinning as she led him up the stairs, she sensed Spike’s jealousy over this William fellow though he would probably never admit to it. It pleased her to no end and only confirmed his ‘covering up’ any feelings for her daughter was just that... a cover up. Now, if she could only convince her daughter to see past his lack of heartbeat, she was sure they would make not only a formidable team against the demon world but make each other happy as well.

Joyce went back downstairs, leaving him to inspect the antique in private. He ran his hand over the surface slowly, still unable to shake the feeling he’d seen it before but then it had come from the era when he was human. He’d seen a number of desks like this one, had owned one himself at one point but as to the secret panel, he was clueless.

Crouching down, he studied the underside of it, running both hands along every inch of it in search of some trigger or mechanism that would release the hidden panel Joyce had spoken of. When nothing turned up, he pulled out every drawer and continued his search.

“There you are.” The corners of his mouth curled into an evil smile. A small button on the side of a particular drawer made a slat of wood, flush with the rest of the desk to pop out, revealing two smaller drawers within. He frowned after finding nothing more than several pieces of blank parchment and a few envelopes. However, when opening the second drawer, his attention was immediately drawn to the inkwell. Pulling it out for further inspection, he was sure he’d seen it before, so sure it felt more like déjà vu than mere coincidence it too was from his century as a mortal.

This wasn’t what he came here for... to find two empty drawers. Well, he did come to see the desk but more than anything he wanted to read the letters that pillock wrote that had the slayer’s knickers so tightly knotted that he was unable to get her out of them last night.

They must be here. They must be somewhere in her room. He spied a book-bag over by her closet and after tuning his hearing in to make sure Joyce was still in the kitchen, he set about rummaging through it. When it yielded nothing more than school work, he looked about the room. Where do most birds keep their love letters?

Scanning the room, his eyes landed on her night stand but this too, yielded nothing. He was about to give up when her hairbrush fell off the nightstand upon closing the drawer. Leaning down to pick it up, he spied the edge of a shoe box.

“Bingo!” Not very bloody original, placing her diary in a shoe box that actually read ‘Diary’ on the front of it, but at least it contained the same envelopes he found in the secret panel. As he opened the first, he almost felt guilty for invading the slayer’s privacy like this but then remembered... evil vampire here.

By the time he finished reading all her letters, his blood was boiling. How could the slayer fall for nancy-boy’s mamby-pamby bullshit? Of course it did sound like the type of stuff he used to write when he thought he was in love with Cecily, not to mention the penmanship looked eerily similar to his own back in the day. He shrugged it off and started flipping through her diary.

“... and the way Angel kissed me, told me he loved me... blah blah blah.” He skipped ahead by a few pages. “Angel blah blah.... Angel the love of my life, blah blah...” He made like he was jerking off with one hand while sticking his tongue out to spit in time to the mock strokes. “Bloody poof.” Flipping through the rest of her book revealed she hadn’t written anything in quite some time according to the date of the last entry. Just as well, he was already pissed off enough as it was and needed to get going.

Putting everything back the way it was, he quickly headed downstairs and bid Joyce goodnight, saying nothing more than he was satisfied with what he’d found and would talk to Giles later about the desk’s possible origins.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Slamming the door to his crypt wide open, he had to stop himself from babbling out loud about how the slayer had to have some feelings for him, especially after last night. He expected her to be standing there waiting with an irritated look on her face but found nothing. Tilting his head to one side, he picked up a rustling noise coming from the lower level. Assuming it was her, he headed down.

She heard the bang of the door upstairs and jumped a mile, dropping the notebook to the floor and picking it up in the same heartbeat as she tried to put it back on the same shelf without creating a disaster.

Oh God, oh God, oh God! This was a bad idea, she should have known better than to stay downstairs, no matter how much her curiosity had tempted her. What would he say now when he found her in his bedroom? She picked up a t-shirt that lay over the bed and passed it over her face trying to clean the evidence of her crying and why did the damned vampire not have a mirror around? How would she know if she had raccoon eyes even if her make-up was supposed to be waterproof? She threw the shirt back on the bed and sat down, trying to act as nonchalantly as she could when she heard his footsteps coming down the ladder.

He descended the ladder casually, making it seem as if he didn’t know she was there, when he was more than aware that the daft bint was waiting for him… in his bedroom of all places. Perhaps she was there to continue where they left off last night? Just that thought was enough to melt some of his anger and jealousy away, not to mention making him harden almost painfully in his pants.

Spike hid a smirk as he saw her on his bed, trying to appear as fresh as a cucumber but failing miserably. His irritation continued to wane while his curiosity, and erection, grew. She was slightly out of breath, her heart beating faster than usual and he could practically smell her anxiety coming out of her in waves as she refused to look his way. What had she been doing that had her so agitated?

She didn’t want to look at him. She was sure that if she did, he’d discover what she’d done and that wouldn’t be of the good. Not that not wanting to look at him did her any good anyway, since her silly eyes seemed as if they hadn’t gotten the memo and kept straying to steal glances of him, which only increased her stress levels to the roof.

“Find anything interesting, luv?”

Oh God, how on earth did he find out what she was doing? Then again, how on earth would he know what she’d been doing? Her eyes darted to the bookcase, relieved to see that indeed, the notebook was still in the same place he’d left it. Maybe he was just trying to see if he could make her admit to something. Yes, that was it. Breathing in deeply to calm her frayed nerves, she looked at him.

“Cat got your tongue, pet?”

“N-no, I-I was just...”

“What? Waitin’ for me so we could continue where we left off last night before we were so rudely interrupted?”

“No, of course not. Whatever gave you that silly idea? I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.” She blushed at her blatant lie. No, of course you wouldn’t touch him with that, you would touch him with your hands and with your lips and with your whole body, especially if he is who you think he is, annoying little voice interjected.

He refused to let disappointment creep up on him at her words, he knew she was lying. She had to be. He could feel it in his blood. He could see it in the way she avoided looking directly at him while saying it, in the blush that now covered her cheeks while hearing her heart rate increase. She was lying her little but very bitable arse off.

“Then why are you here, in my crypt, on my bed if you’re not waiting for me?” he lowered his voice to a husky whisper, stepping closer to her and running his hand over her arm, delighting in the shiver that very obviously ran through her as he did.

“I-I just came to ask you a question,” she said, before standing up and taking a step away from him.

“A question?” He arched his brow. What the hell did she want to ask him?

“What’s your last name?” she blurted before losing her nerve.

And that’s the last thing he ever expected her to ask. “Why the bloody hell would you want to know that?”

“Just curious.” She tried to sound indifferent though inside she wanted to rip the information out of his throat. If they were one and the same, the next big mystery was why Spike couldn’t remember any of it.

“Why don’ you look it up in one ‘f your bloody Watcher’s books?”

“Because you’re standing right here and it’s quicker for you to tell me.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and tried not to act exasperated. “What’s the matter, is it something stupid sounding?”

“No!”

“Then tell me.”

Hmmm. Maybe he’d been given an opportunity to make her understand last night was not one of those ‘it-just-happened-lack-of-better-judgment’ excuses on her part. It was because she bloody well belonged with him and not some dead guy who couldn’t do anything more than write to her, fill her head with silly notions of love. He was here, with her every day and she could physically touch him... tha’s it.

“It’ll cost you for that information, slayer.”

“Cost me?” she asked incredulously. “You want me to pay you to find out your last name?” He shook his head.

“Not money.”

“Then what?” Tilting his head to the side, he gave her that irritating yet seriously sexy smirk before naming his price.

“A kiss.” Surely she couldn’t deny what she felt after kissing him. Their kisses always led somewhere and now that they weren’t physically fighting, if she kissed him now, if it went any further, it was time for her to admit it... at least to herself.

What?!?! A kiss? Oh God, oh God, oh GOD!!! Her gut instinct was to punch the insane thought out of his bleached head. Had all that peroxide finally seeped into his brain and made him go wonky? Then again, if both men were the same, if Spike was her William then it wasn’t a bad thing, right? If he was, in fact, her William, then it would be their first kiss, er, well, sort of anyway. It would be the first kiss that wasn't magic-induced or lust-induced or... whatever. If she gave him this kiss it would be... real. How many William Pratts could there be from his time? It didn’t seem like a common last name.

“Ahem, gonna make a decision, Slayer? Or are you jus’ gonna stand there all night.”

“Oh, uhmmm... fine. A kiss.” I can do this.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. She’d said yes without a fight? Well, damned if he was going to interfere and ask her if she’d hit her head on the way to his crypt.

“So tell me. What’s your last name?”

“Tsk, tsk, pet. Kiss first, name after.” There she is, he thought. There was the normal, brassed off expression he was used to. But again, she surprised him.

“Well? Are you going to kiss me or what? Time’s ticking. Hello? We need to patrol.” He crooked his finger at her to come closer.

Breathe. Breathe and act disgusted or else he might suspect something. Yeah, that maybe she was hoping he was her William? She stepped up to him with what she considered reasonable kissing proximity so as not to look too eager, although inside, the butterflies were on serious caffeine right now, beating their little wings furiously inside her stomach. She waited, but he still hadn’t kissed her.

“Spike? Now would be good.”

“Uh-uh. You,” he pointed at her, then to himself. “Kiss me.” That earned him a look of shock.

“Fine, whatever.” Why did he have to be so, so ‘Spike’ about this. She decided to make the kiss short, just in case. How icky would that be if she found out he wasn’t her William? Not that icky, if she were to be truthful with herself.

She looked so cute and nervous he almost wanted to laugh. If she felt nothing for him then there was no reason for her to act nervous... so it was a definite sign he’d been right all along. She placed a tiny hand around his neck and tilted her head, rising up on her toes while pulling on him to meet her half way.

Okay, so she intended to make the kiss a brief one, but the moment she felt his silky, cool lips press against hers, that decision flew out the window. She wanted more, more than just a meeting of their mouths, she wanted to taste him. He brought a hand to her cheek, stroking it tenderly with his thumb then tilted his head, trying to deepen the kiss.

She parted her lips a fraction and he took this as all the permission needed to wrap his free arm around her tiny waist and pull her warm body flush to his. Her tongue came out to dance and he could feel himself drowning in her again. Before he became too lost, however, he pulled away to give her what she paid for.

“Pratt. The last name`s Pratt, luv.”

tbc

Still with us? We'd love to read what you thought of this chapter.

ETA: Disclaimer: The poems used in this chapter are my translations from Spanish to English of two songs: Obsesión by Miguel Mateos and Ahora Quien by Marc Anthony, which we thought worked great with what we were trying to convey. Hope you think so, too.