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The Seven Circles of Samsara
©2004 Evenstar



Chapter 1

Sunnydale, May 2003



They ought to have been basking in the afterglow of their love making, but instead they cleaved to each other, unsteady and fearful, though neither would speak of it. They knew the coming day could be the doom of them all. Both longed to hear professions of love from the other. But they were saving all their bravery for the coming battle. There was too much history beyond the sanctuary of the small cot they shared. One misstep and the peace they'd created this night would be gone.

"I have a wish," Spike said, his voice quiet while his fingers toyed with hers. Her cheek rested on his bare chest with her hair fanned out over his shoulder and arm.

"What is it? Can I know?" Buffy replied, her fingers moving to dance over his chest, being chased by his hand. He pulled the blanket over them to preserve the heat and he kissed the crown of her head.

"That you'd been born in my time or me in yours. I was a quiet, guileless ponce who cared more about his poetry than the world around him. But I was a good man."

"You wrote poetry?"

"Yes, love, but that's not the point. I had everything money could buy, but it didn't bring me the simplest things in life. The things I needed. It was always just mother and I, you see, we lost father when I was a tot. Mother always wished for me to have a family of my own someday. Turned out differently of course. I would've fallen for you in an instant."

"It's a good wish."

"'Course, I doubt you'd have given me a second glance."

"I'm not so sure about that. I like good men. And you're very handsome."

"I have curly hair." Buffy giggled and hugged him. "And I wore glasses!" She pressed a kiss to his chest and snuggled in deeper.

"Go to sleep, Spike."

"Sure, love. G'night."

"Spike?"

"Yes?"

"I would've fallen for you too. Goodnight."



Rome, Winter 2004



Buffy had been watching the moon's reflection in the rippling waters of the fountain for the better part of the night. White and blue danced before her eyes in a sparkling symphony. The night was crisp, with snow threatening to fall, but she remained, sitting quietly by herself. The evening's perfunctory patrol was behind her and she wasn't due home for hours. She'd been sitting long enough for her legs to feel numb, yet she couldn't draw herself away. She was pensive and more than a little sad. For the most part her new life in Rome was pleasant, if not dull. Her brief affair with the Immortal had naturally turned around and nipped her on the butt. She was ready to give the dashing Italian everything, but when she couldn't seem to go all the way, he quickly grew bored of her. In hindsight she knew the reason. She wasn't over Spike and now, months later and well over a year since his death, she knew she probably never would be. Keep on living from one moment to the next, that's all she could do. She both cherished and cursed the final moments she'd shared with her vampire the night before the final battle.

He was tender, more so than ever before. His body had worshipped hers with every sensuous touch and whispered word. She'd never felt a more complete love in her heart. How could anyone hope to come near her when she'd already known the rapture of her soulmate? She remembered his sweet wish, how he longed for them to have known each other in simpler times. Letting the moon hypnotize her, she imagined waltzing in a grand Victorian ballroom, he with the shy doleful smile that always tugged at her heart strings. There'd be walks in the daylight and nights spent making love under heavy brocade covers surrounded by soft feather pillows.

Buffy closed her eyes and dipped her fingers into the frigid waters of the fountain. The city would block the flow of the water through the aqueducts that gave life to the old fountains once winter settled in and the night life would crawl instead of bustle. She closed her eyes and sighed. "It was a good wish, Spike. If only we could've been so lucky. I wish we could be together now, just how you wanted us." She smiled ruefully and stood to leave. Upon opening her eyes a very different scene greeted her. Fear took a tight hold over her as she tried to assimilate all she saw before her.

The buildings were essentially unchanged, save for their trim being of different colors than she knew previously. But the streets were alive with a different people altogether. There was frost on the street and she slipped when she tried to step away from the now empty fountain. The sensation of snow flakes pricking on her skin caused her greater unease. A horse-drawn carriage crossed her path and nearly getting run over jolted the Slayer to her senses. The street lights that barely illuminated the cobblestone road showed her that this must be the past. She couldn't seriously believe it, but the for fact that there were police constables milling about in a doorway, men rushing home from their places of employment and couples leaving their home to no doubt attend dinner parties or balls. They were dressed in 19th fashion and speaking in Italian. Confused and still in a terrible fright she stumbled into the road aimlessly.

"Signora! Attento! Signora!" a male voice called after her and when Buffy turned she saw the thundering hooves of a horse about to trample her. Seconds later she was whisked off the ground and spirited away from disaster. She was in a man's arms, being held closely to his body. He was warm and the chest her cheek was nestled against was hard and firm. She clung to him, her savior. "Siete avete danneggiato?" Buffy braved looking at him and the face she was met with shook her to the core. "Siete avete danneggiato?" he asked again.

"What?"

"Oh! Are you English?" He looked over his spectacles with perilous blue eyes. Already she was drowning, it was him. It was William. "Miss?"

"A..American..." She looked up at him, adoration painted on her face as her fingers curled around the lapels of his suit jacket, sneaking under the heavy woolen coat he wore. He was dressed in the best finery of the day, head to toe in black, with a hint of earth colored tweed underneath. There was a thick rim of fur on his coat that made his shoulders more broad than she knew them to be, while the top hat he wore made him look more debonair than she'd ever remembered him being. "You saved me."

Even in the cold she saw his cheeks blush hot and long soot colored lashes hid his eyes from her. He placed her on the ground and took a step back. "Forgive me, I should not linger." With a slight bow her turned to leave.

"Wait!" She caught his arms and turned him around. He looked at her, expectantly, for the first time taking in her beauty. She was dressed oddly and shivering, but her hair shone golden as it cascaded down her back. Her eyes captivated him. There was a sadness there that he'd seen before in his mother's that had not yet faded even in all the long years since his father's death. The silence between them as they waited for the other to speak was pregnant with possibility. Buffy wanted to throw herself into his arms and claim him, while he couldn't help but string words together inside his mind speaking of her angelic beauty. He cleared his throat and bowed again.

"William Convington at your service, Miss..."

"Buffy. My name's Buffy Summers."

"Pray, do tell Miss Summers, why do you walk alone this night?"

"I always walk alone."

"Surely not! Such reckless behavior can only lead..."

"I'm always alone."

"I'm sorry. Are you cold?" She nodded her head and immediately he began to unbutton his coat. Moments later the heavy garment was around her shoulders, the fur soft against her cheek. "Allow me to escort you home. A lady shouldn't ever walk alone."

"Thank you. Why are you here?"

"Well...er...our Italian solicitor is over seeing the sale of our vineyards. There were documents for me to sign here in Rome."

"You speak Italian? I never knew."

"Of course you couldn't have known, we've only just met. I speak enough to get by, but I'm afraid that I lose my vocabulary over the months back home. Where do you live?"

"Uh...I don't remember." They started to walk, William's arm protectively around her shoulders. She huddled into his coat as the wind picked up and the cold continued to bite at her face.

"Are you quite alright Miss Summers? You're not, um, rather...do you not have a home?"

"I'm lost, William. I was lost until you found me." She touched his gloved hand that rested on her shoulder and his body quaked, obviously nervous to be near her.

"It's only a short walk to the villa. I'm not the sort of man to turn away a lady in distress. You may spend the night, if you wish, we have many spare rooms. How is it that you aren't dressed for the weather?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't have an explanation."

"Perhaps a warm cup of tea by the fire will allow you to regain your senses and your memory. Mother would warn me not to trust you, thinking you likely a thief or a woman of ill fame."

"I'm not a thief or a prostitute."

"Forgive me, I never presumed you were. The circumstances of our meeting are rather unique, you must admit. Most ladies and gentlemen are in for the night. Who could guess that the only two people on this path were destined to meet in such a way. I playing Sir Lancelot to your Lady Guinevere."

"My knight in shining armor? Yeah, I guess you are." They rounded a corner and came upon the entrance to a garden. It was waning in its spirit, but the beauty of the design remained. The leaves had all died and fallen from the trees and shrubbery and the branches and twigs were covered in frost and snow, resembling a million upturned icicles that glittered and shimmered despite the lack of light. William opened the gate and she passed before him through carefully sculpted branches that had been woven together over the course of many years into a circle. As William followed her a wave of something passed over them. Neither one spoke of it, but they paused for a moment until William urged them towards the house. Ever chivalrous, he unlocked the door and insisted she precede him.

"Mrs. Claythorne?" William called. Scant seconds later a rotund woman of sixty plus years came scurrying down the hall towards the couple.

"Master William! What have you brought us?" the woman asked, taking the coat of off Buffy's shoulders, then with a puzzled look on her face, taking Buffy's own coat.

"This is Miss Summers, she'll be spending the night. Perhaps you'd be so kind as to turn down a bed for her."

"My word Master William, shall you be bringing home stray animals next I should wonder!"

"Mind your tongue Mrs. Claythorne. Miss Summers is our guest, we shall take tea in the front room and I'm sure Miss Summers wouldn't say no to a bowl of your stew." Giving her a stern look that came from years of having to manage the family's affairs on his own, Mrs. Claythorne acquiesced to William's request with a curtsy and went about her business.

"She doesn't like me, does she?" Buffy asked as William guided her to a room towards the end of the long hall.

"Nonsense. Mrs. Claythorne is merely protective of me in Mother's stead. Pay her no mind. Now have a seat and perhaps we can talk about your situation." Buffy curled herself into the large armchair set in front of the roaring hearth. William offered her a blanket, which she gladly accepted. He sat across from her and waited until Mrs. Claythorne had brought the stew and tea before commencing with his questions. "You'll forgive me if I'm too forward, but I worry for you."

"You've only known me for less than an hour."

"True, but I make it a habit to follow through on my promises of being a knight. You said you were lost and you do not remember where you live." William removed his spectacles and drew out a handkerchief from his breast pocket, polishing the lenses. It reminded her of Giles at first, but then a strand of his dark blond hair fell across his forehead. Buffy fought back tears at the sight of an innocent Spike before her, his soul pure from knowledge of anything dark. "Have you any family?"

"I have a sister."

"Will she not worry? I can have Hobbes send word."

"That's not necessary. I doubt I can contact her. I'm on my own."

"You're an American. Are you traveling on your own?"

"I was, but I thought I'd like to stay in Rome." She began to eat her stew, taking comfort is its warmth while William served them tea.

"Again, I ask your forgiveness and do tell me if I overstep any boundaries, but your clothing..." Looking down at herself, Buffy knew she must appear very strange in her turtle neck sweater and blue jeans.

"I don't have anything else."

"Were you robbed? Has someone done you injury? Is that why you have lost your memory?"

"I made a wish." William furrowed his brow and looked quizzically at her. Never before had he behaved so forthwith a lady, especially one he was not acquainted with, but this young thing before him was vulnerable and lost and he was drawn to her. He sensed that perhaps their meeting had been fate and that before long the purpose of it would make itself known.

"What sort of wish?" She put her bowl aside and looked him in the eye. Just then Mrs. Claythorne reappeared in the doorway.

"Pardon me, Sir, but the beds have been turned down and the fires lit in your rooms," the woman explained.

"We'll just finish our tea, then turn in," William said. Another curtsy from Mrs. Claythorne and she departed. He turned back to Buffy who had resumed eating her dinner. William watched her for a time and the way the firelight played over her features.

"William?" He cleared his throat and composed himself, then unabashedly met her eyes.

"Yes, Miss Summers?"

"Have you ever found yourself at a point where you have no clue which direction to turn? What path to follow? Have you ever felt so alone that you'd give almost anything to have something of your own? Something to cherish? I wished on the moon tonight and when I looked back from where I was sitting, I was somewhere else."

"You speak in such a way, it almost sounds as though magic was wrought."

"I don't know, maybe. Why did you bring me home with you?"

"It is not in my nature to leave a lady out in the cold." He allowed himself a smile when he saw the bright glimmer of gratitude in her eyes.

"You're a good man, William." His smile deepened for a moment, before it became a yawn.

"Dear me, excuse me Miss Summers, by I think it is time to retire. Mrs. Claythorne will tidy up in the morning." Buffy finished her stew and had a sip of tea before taking the hand offered by William. He led her upstairs to her room and bowed to her, bestowing a kiss on her hand and wishing her pleasant dreams before slipping into his room across the hall.

There was a nightgown laid out on the bed for Buffy. It was a slip of the softest linen with lace at the throat and the cuffs of the long sleeves. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. She took off her own clothes and slipped the gown over her nude body. She was shocked by how cold the fabric was against her skin. The sheets were no more warm than her garment, but the fire had not yet begun to truly roar and gave off little heat. She pulled the covers up to her chin and shivered in the cold bed. She supposed William was doing the same. She smiled to herself at the thought of him. He was dashing, charming and everything she imagined him to be. It wasn't that she saw Spike in him, but rather she'd seen William in Spike. Over a century of blood and mayhem and forged her champion, but always at the core was the soul that now slept across the hall from her. He was handsome indeed, so much so, that Buffy felt herself grow a little warmer. She'd spent too many nights alone in her bed missing him, which prompted her to suddenly sit up, toss away the covers and head straight across the hall.

William sighed and closed his book, setting it aside. He was tired and in want of a good night's sleep, but thoughts of the young woman across the hall plagued him. Or, rather, enraptured him. She was the most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes upon, so mysterious, yet so fragile. When he'd first seen her there he'd spent only seconds under her spell, before the whinny of the horse about to descend upon her spirited him into action. Never before in his life had he acted so purely on instinct, tossing aside all care for himself in a quest to rescue her from possible death. Her explanations were cryptic, though he suspected no malevolence or duplicity on her part. He was often one to spin fantasies and wild notions in his head and tonight was no different. He imagined what it would be like to kiss Buffy, to hold her in his arms and to... No, he told himself, he mustn't think of her in such a way.

There was creak from by way of his door and he bolted up in bed, the motion of which blew out the candle on his bedside table. She appeared to him as an angel, illuminated by the flames in the hearth. Her long tresses shone as a shower of gold and through the sheer fabric of her nightgown the curves of her body were clearly outlined. He felt his body respond and embarrassment quickly overcame the joy that she'd come to him.

"Is...is something wrong Miss Summers?" he asked, voice shaky. She closed the door and quietly padded across the floor towards the bed.

"I'm cold."

"Isn't your fire lit?" She reached the edge of the bed and he shrank from her. The last thing Buffy wanted to do was scare him by being too aggressive, but she wasn't here for that. Spike used to hold her and her body now ached to feel his strength and protective embrace, that she couldn't help herself even if she wanted to.

"Yes, but I'm lonely too." Gingerly, she opened the covers, looking to him for permission.

"This isn't proper. When I brought you here, it was solely for your own safety. I require no recompense from you. Certainly not this. I would never ask that of you. Never."

"I know you wouldn't William. That's not what this is. I'm grateful, yeah, but I just..." Tears brimmed her eyes and William felt defenseless against her. He lay back down. She crawled into bed and drew herself close to him, laying her cheek upon his shoulder and her hand on the bare chest exposed from his night shirt. She closed her eyes and let out a long breath. He was tense against her for the longest time, then sleep came to him too. By the time the grandfather clock in the sitting room downstairs chimed midnight, they were warmed and slept soundly while the snow fell outside.





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