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Author's Chapter Notes:
We meet William, Joyce, Hank, Buffy and.... Manny?
AN: Reviews are the key to my writing.. both positive and constructive!

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London, England 1855

Joyce Summers wanted to wring the butler's neck. "What do you mean, he won't see me? I'm his cousin!"

The butler smiled sadly. "His Highness hasn't seen anyone since he has left Russia. He has no will to live."

Joyce chewed her lower lip. "Igor, tell me the truth... how badly is my cousin hurt?"

Igor ushered her in. "Please, come in, your Highness. I don't think this is a conversation that one has on a door step." Joyce murmured her thanks as the door closed behind her. After he took her cloak and bonnet, she turned to him expectantly. "Would you like some tea, your grace?"

Joyce shook her head. "No, thank you, Igor. I just need to know how William fairs. Did they hurt him terribly?"

Igor nodded. "Yes your Highness."

Joyce grimaced. "Poor William. Was he beaten? Whipped?"

"A bit of both, your grace. He won't let any of us tend to his wounds. I think he would rather die in exile, than live in it." The butler cleared his throat. "Pardon me, your grace. I am just worried about Master William. He has not been himself since they sentenced him into exile from Russia."

"I understand, you dear old man." Joyce looked around thoughtfully. "Why don't you take a break? I will go up and deal with Prince William for a while."

Igor's eyes rounded. "But, your grace, he is in the most foulest of moods, and in your condition.." He motioned to her ever rounding stomach. "I don't think I can permit it, my lady."

Joyce bristled. "It is not for you to decide, Igor. Go have tea, I will go upstairs and deal with the monster." She waved her hand, as if to dismiss him. He complied, but watched her with sad eyes. Joyce turned her attention to the stairs. The townhouse William has acquired was very nice, all oak and mohogany. It was simple, yet elegant, and Joyce couldn't have been more impressed.

As she trudged up the stairs, she could hear William yelling... "Get out of my room, you wench! I will have you fired!" then the clash of something on the floor. His dinner, more than likely. "Arrogant Man.." Joyce muttered, reaching the top of the stairs. As she turned the corner, she saw a maid scurrying down the hall. The maid nearly tripped on herself when she noticed Joyce. "Please, go downstairs and have some tea. I will take care of your master." The maid nodded, and ran past her. What on earth could William be doing to scare these poor servants to death?

Joyce opened the door. She nearly vomited. The stench was powerful and potent. Darkness enveloped the room, and there was a lone candle burning by the occupant in the bed. "Get out!" she heard his soft whisper. Instead of complying, she marched across the room and opened the curtains. Light flooded the dark room. Opening the window, she inhailed the fresh air. "There, that's better isn't it?" William said nothing. He just lay in his own misery, looking at the canopy over his bed. The last time Joyce had seen her cousin, he had been roboust and powerful. He had been tanned and devilishly handsome. The man she saw in that bed was not her cousin. He was pale and skinny. His once bronzed skin had turned a sickly yellow color. His once lovely eyes had sunken into his skull. He looked like a man defeated. "William, you do not look well."

William stared at the ceiling. "It's Spike." He grumbled. "Why are you here, Joyce? I did not think you would come and see me. We did not part well the last time we saw each other."

Joyce smiled. "You helped me escape certain death, William."

Spike frowned. "I was the one that put you in that situation in the first place."

Joyce waved her hand. "That is niether here nor there. I have come to nurse you, since you don't seem to want help from anyone else."

"I don't want your damn pity, Joyce. Go home."

"I am not leaving until you have eaten something and have put some salve on those lacerations. You also need a bath and some fresh sheets. I will call for your maid." Joyce decided, walking toward the door and pulling on the bell.

"Joy, I don't want your help! Can't you just let me die in peace? Is that too much to ask?"

"Yes, Will, I believe it is." The maid scurried up to the door. "I need some new bedclothes for his Majesty and some salve. Get a bath ready, and get the footman in here. I will need his help."

"Right away, your grace." The maid responded, and hurried about her duties.

"Why can't you just let me die? Can you give me this one thing?" Spike asked, his voice raising in octave. "I have lost everything that I have ever loved, can't you just let me have this? Why do you have to be so stubborn?"

"Why do you have to be stubborn, Cousin? You are so lucky, you have no idea!" Joyce shot back, throwing some wood into the nearby fireplace.

"Lucky?" Spike asked, sitting up in his bed. "You call being whipped almost to death lucky? You call people slicing your skin down to your bones lucky?"

Joyce stood up. "Yes. They could have killed you, Spike! Instead, they put you into exile, gave you one third of your fortune, which that alone is enough to feed the whole of London for twenty years, and let you take some loyal servants and leave! How many people accused of treason do you think they gave that option to? I can tell you.. None. Not one."

"You know nothing about it!" Spike whispered fiercely. "Just leave me the hell alone!"

Joyce rounded on him. "I know nothing of exile? Am I not in this country, NEVER to return to Russia? I am I not away from my mother and sisters? I can't even write a letter to them, for fear the secret police will come after me! Do not tell me that I know nothing of exile, William!"

"You have a family here! You have Summers and his daughter! You have a baby on the way. You have more here than I ever will!" Spike argued, his strength suddenly leaving him. "Just go back to your husband, Joyce, and leave me in peace."

Joyce shook her head. "I won't do that, Spike. You are my cousin."

"Distant third cousin."

"You are my cousin none the less! I am not going to go back to my home and think of you dying in this bed because you are shrouded in self- pity!" Spike opened his mouth to rebut her. "Shut up, William, or so help me God, I am not above slapping a bed ridden man!" Spike looked at her in shock. "I have much changed since the last time we met, Cousin. I will no longer put up with you and your doctorial ways." Just then, the maid entered with the linens. The footman entered after her. "Good, Ekaterina, please tell me when the bath is ready for his Highness."

The maid dipped into a small curtsy. "Yes, your grace. Right away." Joyce nodded, and the maid quietly shut the door.

"You there, what is your name?" Joyce asked the footman.

"Illia, your grace."

"Illia, help me get his Majesty out of those rags and put the salve on his wounds." The footman hurried to comply. Joyce turned her attention back to Spike. "I refuse to let you die, Cousin. You best get used to the idea of living. Exile or no."

***

Two exhausting hours later, Spike was in clean clothes and lay on fresh sheets. The bath had been the worst chore of all, his wounds still very fresh. Since he had not let anyone take care of them, they seeped a strange clear liquid and were very painful to clean. Spike had cursed his way through the bath, eventually putting a leather belt between his teeth to bite when the pain became too terrible for him to bear. The maids had taken care of the linens during the bath and had a fresh change of bed clothes waiting when he returned to his room. A hot bowl of borscht lay beside the bed on the table. Spike, however, had refused to touch it. No amount of coaxing would get him to budge. "Fine the, starve, you big ogre!" Joyce had finally sighed, sinking into the chair next to the bed.

Spike smiled. It was the first smile Joyce had seen all night. "You know I don't like that stuff." Joyce glared at him. "Joy, I would honestly like to thank you for coming over here tonight."

Joyce flushed. "When I found out that you were in London, I couldn't not see you. I knew they must have done something terrible to you. I honestly didn't know what to expect when I came over."

"But you came anyway."

"Of course! You are my family. The only link that I have left to my old life in Russia... a life that I miss very much."

Spike studied her for a moment. "Do you truly miss it?"

"Of course!" Joyce looked shocked. "Why would you ask me such a question? I am Russian down to my boots!" Spike laughed. "I don't miss it all the time, I suppose. Like when I am with Hank and Buffy..." she looked at him with a small smile. "But I miss Russia especially during the winter. The winter is nice here, but it is nothing like what we have in Russia. All of the snow.."

Spike looked shocked. "It does not snow here?"

"Yes, it does! It's just not the same. There is a different spirit there, I guess. Little children that can hardly wait for Father Christmas..." Joyce sighed. "I don't know.. Christmas time is when I miss Russia the most." Joyce became quiet for a moment. "But, what's done is done, Spike. We can't change what happened or where we are. We just have to make the best of it."

"I do not know what I will make here, Joyce." Spike looked at her for a moment. "Listen, you know that I would never ask this of you if it wasn't important."

"What is it?"

"I know you have the sight." he searched her face for some sign. "Do you see anything for me? In my future?"

Joyce took his frail hand in hers. "You know it doesn't come to me whenever I want. It just happens." Spike nodded. Joyce closed her eyes, and tried to feel something. Suddenly, out of the blue, an image came to her. Spike was smiling at a woman... she couldn't see her face, but she knew her... "I see a woman... a great love... a love that survived thousands of years... you will have a love that most people dream about....you will be happy.... wait.. I can almost see her... she's turning around.."

"Mama!"

Joyce lost her vision. She turned her face toward the door. "Buffy Ann Summers, what in God's name are you doing here?"

"I followed you on my horse. I was worried about you." Buffy walked toward her mother. Only then did she notice Spike. "Mother, what are you doing here with him?"

"He is hurt. He needs someone to take care of him." Joyce let go of Spike's hand. "You shouldn't be here, Buffy."

The twelve year old looked at her with wide eyes. "Neither should you. Papa doesn't know that you are here, does he?"

"No, he doesn't." Joyce told her, getting out of the chair.

Spike stared at Joyce. "Summers doesn't know you are here? You must leave then, he will likely beat you."

Buffy stared at him in disgust. "My father would NEVER hurt Mama. He's not like you."

Spike stared back. "Not many people are, pet."

Buffy curled her lip. "Don't call me that, you bastard!"

"Elizabeth! You don't talk to your family like that!"

"He's NOT my family." Buffy spat in disgust. "He almost killed you!"

Joyce looked at Buffy with hard eyes. "He saved my life, Buffy. You know that."

Buffy never took her eyes from Spike. "He wouldn't have had to save you if he hadn't put you in danger in the first place."

Spike smiled at the small child. "Touché, pet."

Joyce sighed. "Buffy, stay here with William. I am going to have the footman bring the carriage around. It's late."

Neither Spike nor Buffy took their eyes off of one another as Joyce left the room. The air seemed to crackle around them. "You disgust me." Buffy whispered, sitting down in the chair her mother had just vacated. "I don't understand how Mama can help you after what you did to her."

"Your mother is very kind, pet. She can't abide seeing someone hurt... even if it is well deserved."

Buffy turned her face away from his gaze. She didn't like the way he was looking at her. It gave her chills. Her gaze fell on the soup. "Are you going to eat that?"

Spike glanced at it. "I hadn't planned to."

"How do you expect to get better if you don't eat? You are far too skinny." Buffy told him, taking the bowl into her lap. She stirred the still warm soup. "You need to eat." she told him, bringing the spoon to his lips. When his lips didn't part, Buffy pushed the spoon against his lips. "Eat."

Spike took a bite in spite of himself. "It seems you are more like Joyce than you think."

Buffy shrugged. "I don't like seeing good food go to waste."

Buffy fed him in silence as Joyce watched by the door. Something wasn't right. Something didn't fit. It scared her. "Buffy, we must go. Your father will be worried about us."

Buffy nodded, as she finished feeding Spike. She returned the empty bowl to the table by the bed. "I'll come back to see you tomorrow."

"No you won't! A man's sick room is no place for a young lady!" Joyce scolded.

"Who said I was a young lady? If you can come I will too."

Spike chuckled. "She may not be your daughter by blood, Joy, but she is exactly like you."

Buffy frowned. "No one asked your opinion, your Highness." Buffy headed for the door after her mother before she turned to face him. "I will see you tomorrow."

"I count on it, Pet."

***

Two months later

Hank Summers walked into the foyer of his home. His wife of two years, Joyce, met him at the door. As always, the sight of his wife set his heart into a flurry. She was still as beautiful as the day he met her. "Hello my love." Hank whispered, holding her close.

"Hank.." Joyce began, only to be interrupted by Buffy running out of the sitting room.

"Daddy, come see the kitten Spike brought me." she was so excited, she didn't see the look on her father's face before she ran back in.

"Spike? Your cousin William? What the hell is doing in my house?" Hank questioned, giving Joyce a hard look. "You didn't invite him without asking me, did you?"

Joyce slapped his arm. "No, Hank, I didn't. He came on his own. He wanted to thank Buffy for helping him in his recovery. She really was very vital.." Joyce told him when his brow drooped sharply. "Listen, about the kitten..."

"Daddy! Come see!" Buffy cried from inside the sitting room.

"I'm coming, Buffy."

"Hank.. no wait, Hank..." Joyce tried, but failed to get him to stop.

The first thing Hank saw when walking into the room was Spike sitting in the chair. "William." Spike nodded his head. Then he saw his daughter, hovering over a small fluff of orange and black fur. It looked as if she was trying to get the kitten to drink from the saucer of milk on the floor. The kitten was having none of it, however, as it hobbled over to Buffy's lap. The kitten's paws were bandaged with white tape, making it difficult for the kitten to walk. Just when he was about to open his mouth to comment, Hank noticed the servants huddled together in the corner.

"It's going to eat us.." one of the maids whispered, clutching her hands to her throat.

Only then did Hank look closer at the animal. "Good Jesus.. it's a tiger cub!"

"Isn't he cute, Papa?" Buffy asked, crooning over the cub. "I love him so much!"

Hank turned on Spike. "You bought my daughter a Tiger? Is that how you say thank you in Russia?" A small smiled played at Spike’s lips, but he said nothing. Hank turned on Joyce. "We can't keep it."

Buffy's head went up. "Yes we can, Papa. He's very small. I could keep him in my closet."

"He won't stay small for long!" Hank roared, running his hands through his hair. "I demand, your highness, that you take this animal back to where you found it!"

"No, Papa!" Buffy sprang up, holding the tiger cub close to her heart. "Please, don't take away Manny."

The eyes killed Hank. He could feel himself giving in. "Perhaps.." Joyce began, looking Hank in the eye. "we might be able to build a cage outside by the gardens for the cub. But, Buffy.. it would be your responsibility to take care of Manny. Do you understand what that means?"

Buffy nodded excitedly. "Oh, yes Mama!" Buffy looked over at her father. "I will take care of Manny, Papa. You won't even know that he's here. I'm so excited!" Buffy scrambled over to the dish with the milk in it. "Drink up, Manny. We need you big and strong."

"So I guess we are keeping the animal?" Hank asked Joyce, who ducked her face under his arm. "It would be nice if I got to make a few decisions around here."

Spike took that opportunity to get up from the couch. "Well, I guess I must be going. I only came to thank Buffy and Joyce for taking such good care of me." he bowed in the direction of Joyce. "I thank you again, my lady. Your kindness is beyond bounds." He straightened and looked over at Buffy. "And you, Mistress Elizabeth.." he bowed deep. "Your kindness is beyond anything I have ever experienced. I thank you again." For one instant, his eyes met with hers and he left something... a spark of energy. He looked away, and dismissed it just as easily. She is only a child. "I must be off."

Buffy trailed behind him. "Let me walk you out, your Highness."

As the two walked out of the room, Joyce put her arms around her husband. "You did a good thing. I think that cub will be good for Buffy. It will teach her responsibility."

Hank huffed. "I still don't like it. I don't like that he wants to spend so much time with my family. Especially Buffy. He is dangerous."

Joyce watched over Hank's shoulder at Spike and Buffy. Buffy held Manny over her shoulder, where the kitten laid peacefully. Spike stroked the kitten's fur, and for a moment, wrapped a finger around one of Buffy's curls at the nape of her neck. Some would pass it off as an innocent mistake, but not Joyce. Suddenly, she saw Spike and Buffy. They were older and laughing. Spike kissed Buffy, and then led her down into the darkness. "Hank, I think you're right. I'll see to it that William doesn't come over as often."

AN: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! The next chapter will find our favorite couple 8 years down the road... Hope to see you then!





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