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Author's Chapter Notes:
I’m so sorry for the delay in writing this chapter, but my muse was occupied elsewhere. I have some bad news, though; this is the last chapter Lu is going to collaborate on in writing this story. She just began working and does not have as much time as she did before, she will, however, continue helping me to edit and plot the story as well as translating it to Italian as she’s been doing so far. I will continue writing the story, so no worries about that. That said, my muse and I have reached a compromise and hopefully I’ll be alternating between this story and Corazón Salvaje. I'm aiming for one chapter every two weeks for each of the stories. Just don’t know which days it will be, since it all depends on my RL obligations.


A huge thank you to the lovely Im_bloody_English, who not only did a great job betaing this chapter, but also agreed to beta the rest of the story. Really, sweetie, thanks for bringing my muse back to this story, if it weren’t for you I don’t think I would have finished this chapter yet. *huggles* And of course, thank you to Kimmie, Amelia-Jane, TammyAsh666, Im_bloody_English, cordykitten, Bridget, Halfpastdead, slayercaro and Margaret, for reviewing. I hope you forgive me for the lateness in replying to your reviews, I’ll try to do it as soon as I can.
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.





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