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Author's Chapter Notes:
New beta chapter by Sharon/Havena! Many thanks to her!
Buffy had been relieved to find the mysterious survivor at first. When she first saw him and tried waving him down, he had seemed like a mini Giles, with a tweed suit and a stiff posture. Her thoughts had caused her to smile; only a mini Giles could survive a city falling on him. But as she got closer to him she noticed things about him, his height for one thing, and the next was the shape of his shoulders. When she got even closer, to see the details of his body and face she stopped, unable to process the person who was in front of her.

He looked a bit tan, his hair was curly and light brown, but his bright blue eyes were so very much the same. The person in front of her was Spike. She gasped and covered her mouth. Buffy realized perhaps something had happened to him for his appearance to so suddenly change. That didn’t matter so much as the fact he was here, with her, standing in front of her. He survived.

“Spike!?” Was all she could mutter, her tears had begun to fill her eyes. Before she could step closer he spoke.

“I-I beg your pardon?” His voice was nervous and unsure, almost like a stranger.

“What, pardon who?” Buffy seemed thrown off by his question.

“Why did you refer to a spike? Do I have a spike somewhere on my person?” He looked genuinely bewildered and cautious, Buffy wasn’t sure if the innuendo was on purpose or he was just plainly oblivious.

Her confusion lasted only a second. This was Spike, of course he was going to make bad jokes, soul or not. Her tears dried the moment her anger began to form. “Spike, now isn’t the time to play games.” She shook her head; his tone and his words seemed to have pushed a button. “I thought you were dead! Dust, gone with the wind kind of dust, and yet, here you are making me walk-“

“I apologize for interrupting you M-Miss but perhaps you are mistaking me for another? I-I’ve only just got here to this awful place and wish to get someplace safe as soon as possible…as I suggest you do the same, a woman shouldn’t be here in a dangerous place like this.” His voice cracked with panic and nerves.

Buffy couldn’t believe her ears and ignored the woman statement. Either he had gone insane again or was trying to get her angrier. She had to quickly get to the bottom of it, because hanging out here wasn’t something she wanted to do any longer than necessary. “Spike, listen, Sunnydale just collapsed after your little heroic move with the amulet. You’re right, we need to get out of here, but we can’t afford for you to be off your rocker again if we are going to get do that.”


She gazed at him steadily praying she got through to him. He seemed stunned for a moment, but his confusion returned quickly, this time his panic was more evident in his nervous shuffling of his feet and his quick glances at the surrounding area.

“Miss, I’m not sure what you are talking about or to whom. I i-implore you that we should continue on before something dreadful happens.” He looked so very desperate at the moment that Buffy was now just as confused as him.

Buffy wasn’t sure what may have happened for him to be acting like he lost his memory or personality but at that moment she had finally noticed he was standing in the sun and he wasn’t burning. As quick as she could around and on top of the rubble she closed the space between them. He stepped back at her sudden movement, completely taken by surprise and almost fell before balancing himself. Buffy put her fingers to his neck and hardly noticed as he turned red. When she felt his pulse she stepped away from him and let out another gasp.

“You’re alive-I mean…I mean you aren’t undead!”

He looked at Buffy with fear and began to shake. She could tell he was thinking she was the crazy one. “Y-Yes, well unless this place is some kind of afterlife I assure you I am quite alive.”

Buffy had no idea what to make of the man before her. He looked almost exactly like Spike, his face, his eyes, his shape and even his voice. His clothes, his hair, his way of speaking and the way he acted were different from the Spike she knew only yesterday. A soft click and turn and her mind began to add up the obvious.

“What’s your name?” She asked slowly, almost timidly.

He looked at her in shock and confusion, as well as in apprehension, it seemed like he finally understood her. “Pratt, William Pratt of London.”

“What was the last thing you remember before you were here?” Tears were threatening to emerge again. Buffy didn’t know if she could handle the answer she was now expecting.

William hesitated to answer. His continued to shake and his cheeks again began to color. “I-I was leaving a social event for the evening when I seemed to have been accosted by a strange woman before…before everything went dark.”

Buffy swallowed, “Did she bite your neck?”

His eyes went wide, and he simply nodded.

Buffy sighed and looked down to cover her tears. It seemed that either Spike lost all his vampire memories when he became human or somehow when Spike died his human self was transported here. After she quickly wiped her tears she looked back at William and pointedly checked his neck. There were no marks as far as she could tell.

Buffy could feel William stiffen under her glare and touch as she checked his neck. “I’m quite fine, thank you.” He raised his hands to push hers away.

Buffy sighed and then looked him in the eyes. “William, I know of a way to get out of here, I actually came here to look for you since I heard your cry for help. So I need you to follow me. Can you please do that?”

William straightened a bit and looked as if he wanted to say something before nerves got the better of him. He swallowed and nodded. “Lead the way Miss?”

“Buffy, Buffy Summers of Nowhere.”

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William almost felt insulted by the words spoken and actions taken by this strange woman. At first this Miss Summers thought he was an acquaintance of hers, but the things she spoke of made absolutely no sense. Then she had the audacity to speak to him like a child, calling him by his first name and talking slowly like he was daft. He rarely lost his temper, especially to women, but after her inspection to his neck and her display of no respect for his personal space he felt as if he wanted to argue back at her. But he did not, his lack of confidence along with the strain of this ordeal had caused him to give in to his fears and simply follow her. Despite the fact she was a woman, he felt he could at least trust her enough to get him out of the crater.

Miss Summers did seem to know the quickest way to the edge of the crater, and she was quick and agile enough to take care of herself. At times he wanted to assist her in certain climbs but she was too independent for any help. He could not show her any courtesy because she did not seem to allow it, her manner of walking and the way she carried herself reminded him of a man, though she was far from it. She seemed like a war general ready for battle. It added to his already insurmountable confusion. This place was so strange, too strange for his liking.

He had wanted to ask questions, but the walk did not seem appropriate since both of them had to concentrate. He was ever so grateful that she had water on her in a neat little bottle. He drank from it and felt immediately better. He didn't think he would ever get used to his surroundings or even the odd creature that was leading him onward. He didn’t even want to try and figure her out at the moment, even the way she introduced herself was peculiar. She announced she was of Nowhere, which again is perplexing and could mean many things. Questions he wished to ask about her would have to wait for his continued acquaintance with her, if that was even possible or desirable, asking them now would hardly be appropriate and down right rude.

“We’re almost there, just after this building, er, well not so building, we’ll be able to start climbing up.” She called to him from a little way ahead. Miss Summers hardly needed to rest, and again her strength amazed him.

As soon as they reached the wall of the crater, William sent a silent prayer of thanks to whoever was listening. Miss Summers had taken them to a part of the wall that had a little ledge that wound up to the top rim of the crater. It would make the climb up much easier and safer though still dangerous. He had taken his top coat off long ago, but now he wrapped it around his waist and rolled up his sleeves, freeing his hands and arms. He would be grateful to get to a tailor for new clothes and an inn for a bath; he knew he was simply indecent with sweat and grim.

Once on the top, perhaps things would make a bit more sense. William began to follow Miss Summers up the small ledge and reminded himself to ask her only the questions that needed to be asked for now.

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Buffy fell to the ground as soon as she reached the top of the crater. She was exhausted. After the long battle this morning and then the trek that seemed to take forever she was ready to sleep for a whole week. Add to fact that she now had a dependent Spike, or William, that didn’t know where or when he was tipped the scale so that her fuse was awfully short. She prayed the William wouldn’t wig, at least too much, when he found out everything she knew he would find out soon, but that was probably asking too much.

She was glad that they didn’t speak much on their walk. Buffy had to collect her thoughts and figure out what to tell him. She knew it was probably best to tell him as much of the truth as he could take, but he seemed fragile. She didn’t know if even a small amount of truth was something he could handle. But it was better if he found it out from her than when he saw a modern town or god forbid, the car that should be arriving shortly.

Buffy could hear William’s ragged breath, and she stood up gracefully to assist him with his last hurdle over the edge. When he finally got over and on level ground he could hardly stand. He probably wasn’t used to so much physical excursion. William bent over and held himself up by his hands, which clung onto on his thighs for support. His face was drenched in sweat; his hair clung to his forehead.
Buffy watched William as he ran his hand through his hair, slicking it back and making him resemble Spike even more so. Her heart lurched at the sight and she looked away.

“My God…” Buffy turned back towards William who was now standing straight and looking around at the vast horizon. “H-how…?”

“Don’t worry; our ride will be here soon.” She tried to reassure him, but she had failed to even reassure herself. Giles might have been held up for the same reasons that made her life miserable, fate hated her.

He turned to her in shock. “You mean a carriage? Surely the horses would expire from the heat and weight!”

“Well, it’s not really horses that will be coming for us…” and with that Buffy thought about the military or the National Guard, or any rescue team and how Sunnydale’s collapse seemed to have gotten little attention from those who should be paying attention.

“If not horses Miss Summers, how do you expect us to get out of this desert?” His voice betrayed his emotions and it contained enough panic that made Buffy realize that she had to at least tell him the year and what was coming to pick them up.

Buffy caught his eyes and prepared herself for the meltdown. “William, there is something I need to tell you.” She tried to make her voice as soft as possible.

“Please, I-I sincerely don’t mean to be rude, but since we hardly know each other could you please refer to me as Mr. Pratt?”

Buffy was taken aback by that statement, which she felt came out of nowhere, “What? I, yes, of course, Mr. Pratt. I’ll call you Mr. Pratt from now on, no problem.” She hid her unease at this statement by glancing at the road and hoping the approaching black dot was Giles.


“You wished to tell me something?” Buffy heard the eagerness and desperation in his voice, and sighed again.

“Last night, for you, the year was 1880 correct?” She tried to get her voice as even as possible; she was racing for time as she heard the car engine coming closer.

William was flabbergasted at her question, “Yes, of course the year is 1880-“

Buffy interrupted him, “Was, the year was 1880.”

William looked shocked yet again by her words and he stiffened. She could tell he thought her rude for cutting him off. “What year is it then, dear Miss Summers? I couldn’t have slept over half a year!” His voice had risen and his tone was decidedly incredulous, it seemed he didn’t care how rude he sounded. Perhaps he was worried he had been in a coma.

“More like 120 years of sleepiness, the year is 2003.”

Just then, as William was looking at Buffy like she had lost her mind a car stopped only a few feet away, making as much noise as possible, gaining William’s attention and perhaps his willingness to believe that he wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

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