Chapter 2

“Sorry, Buffy,” Clem apologized as he hauled an unconscious William into Buffy’s house and placed him on her couch. “Usually when Spike gets like this, I just leave him at the crypt. But, then again, I’ve never seen him like this before.”

“What do you mean you’ve never seen him like this. Spike gets roughed up all the time!” Buffy said, taking in the nasty gash across the right side of his forehead and the wicked looking bruise that already surrounded it.

“Yeah, sure, but he’s never had a heart beat before,” Clem pointed out.

Buffy shared a knowing look with Anya, before tentatively reaching for the pulse point on his wrist. She had to see for herself. Until then, she would happily continue to captain her little flagship on the river deNile. As soon as she felt the weak little thumping, she drew her hand back as if burned. So Anya had indeed brought him back to life, except this wasn’t Spike. It was William.

After a few hasty explanations about her vengeance demon status, Anya had painfully explained that Spike no longer existed. That the person that looked like Spike, was in fact William, and he would have no memory of ever being Spike. That the things that made Spike who he was, had never happened to William.

As she tried to reconcile the Spike she knew and the bits about William that Anya had been told by Halfrek, she wondered just who this person in front of her was. Spike painted his human self as dangerous and powerful, relishing his death and the new life that Drusilla bestowed upon him. Halfrek described him to Anya as a pathetic simpleton whose own mother couldn’t get rid of him. So which one was the true William? Her ponderings were interrupted by Anya’s narration of the evening’s excitement, which was often punctuated by an excited, “No Way!” or “Holy Cow!” from Clem.

“You can do that?!” Clem exclaimed.

“Of course! It’s actually been done before, but usually by the time people get around to summoning us, they’re pretty pissed off about all the murder and mayhem and just want the vampire dead. And then there’s the women who want the best of both worlds, and ask for children or even day-walkers. But, no one’s asked for one of those in a long…”

A long low groan brought Anya’s treatise on vampire related wishes to a sudden stop as everyone looked to the source of the noise. As William failed his week attempt to sit up, Buffy quickly turned back to see a semi-lucid William looking up at her in squinty-eyed awe.

“Is this Heaven?”

**********

The first thing he saw was the exquisite creature looking down on him. She was wreathed in gold and bright gleaming light, and she fairly put to shame every other creature he’d set eyes on. She had to be an angel.

“Is this Heaven?” He asked aloud, knowing already that it must be; for, in life, such a radiant beauty as she would never have looked upon him with such concern. She smiled, and it brought such joy to him that he should be so favored.

“No, and despite evidence to the contrary, it isn’t hell either,” She spoke.

“But, surely you are an angel,” He insisted.

A rather undignified snort from elsewhere in the room brought to him the awareness that there were others among them.

“Believe me, she’s no angel. Real angels are usually much more terrifying,” Came a response from an adjoining room.

“Which isn’t to say that Buffy can’t be scary,” Clem added. William tried squinting a bit more to identify the source of the comment. “And I think that’s my cue to leave so he doesn’t wig out again. Bye guys!”

William finally succeeded in sitting up, and noted through his squinted eyes another beautiful young woman was now in the room, though not quite as lovely as the first. His first thought was that she must be a servant, for she appeared to be clothed in servant’s dress, only much shorter, showing long and lean legs with gracefully curving calves…

William quickly averted his eyes, and found them settling on yet another set of legs. They were equally unencumbered, and appeared to be very well muscled yet incredibly feminine, much like those of a prima ballerina. He automatically followed their curve as it led upward, and quickly discovered that the angel he’d marveled was clothed only in her dressing gown, leaving just enough to the imagination as to what was concealed beneath it. That thought quickly led to other deliciously lascivious thoughts.

As the more proper side of him finally regained control of his mind, William visibly snapped out of his thoughts and brought one hand up to shield his eyes, as he felt a telling blush deepen across his face. He was beyond mortified that his kind benefactor had seen his brazen oogling of her form.

“Terribly sorry, I…I didn’t mean to…” He stuttered out.

“Huh? Didn’t mean to what?” Buffy asked.

William tried to find words to explain his reason for apology, but failed to find one acceptable for the present company. He finally settled on a very simple explanation. “Your dress, madam.”

“What? I’m not wearing a dress,” Buffy responded with confusion.

“He’s talking about your clothes. See, back in his time, our clothes would be considered obscene. In fact, your guardian and his parents could insist you two be married now. That, or they’d send you to a convent for being a seductive temptress, and privately demand that William compensate the family for damages,” Anya supplied.

“But, he’s seen you too!” Buffy observed, her voiced tinged with what sounded to be a good measure of desperation. “So, how do I explain all of this to him? ‘Hi, my name’s Buffy, and women now days run around wearing what you probably considered underwear. Oh and by the way, it isn’t 1880 anymore, it’s 2002, and you’re here because I accidentally made a wish to a vengeance demon?’” She hissed in an overly loud whisper.

“Well, you could try talking to him now that he’s conscious and sitting about a foot away from you,” Anya offered.

“Oh, right, yeah,” Buffy agreed. “William,” Buffy soothed as she gently placed her hand around the one William was shielding his eyes with, but he quickly jerked away and brought the other hand up to take its place. “Hi! My name’s Buffy, and women…”

“If it’s all the same madam…” Spike interrupted.

“No, it’s not. That’s what I’m going to tell you, if you’d stop interrupting!”

William spared a momentary look of incredulity, before once again shielding his view. He wasn’t quite used to ladies being quite so forward. It was, inappropriate, unladylike, infuriating, and…. Enticing?

“I’m sorry Miss Buffy, but I really must insist on speaking with your father,” William resolutely stated.

“Well, he’s about four thousand miles away at the moment,” Buffy replied with impatience, one hand propped on her hip.

“Your guardian then, perhaps?”

“Ugh!” Buffy stomped her foot, clearly frustrated. “Look, I don’t have a guardian either. It’s just me, Dawn, Willow, and I think maybe Tara again. No guardians, no chaperones, no corsets…well, actually Tara has one or two…but definitely no men in charge in this house!”

"All women you say?" William queried. "Saphists?" He shakily asked, with not just a little bit of awe and curiosity.

"Safest?" Buffy parroted? "Safest what?"

"Not safest, Buffy, Saphists," Anya replied. "He means followers of Sapho. That's what they called lesbiens."

"What?!" She screeched, turning back to William. "No," she started laughing, "Ok, maybe some of us, but the rest of us are definitely of the male loving variety."

A moment of clarity finally found it’s way to him. “Oh! Oh my, of course! Of course, please pardon my misunderstanding. I had no idea this was an Introduction House.”

“A what house?”

“A high-end brothel,” Anya clarified. “You should be quite flattered!”

“I’m supposed to be flattered he thinks I’m a prostitute?” Buffy incredulously asked Anya, then turned back around to face William. “I am *not* a prostitute, buster!” She said, waving an angry finger at him.

“No? Well then, I must say I’m quite relieved,” William confided, then seemed to consider the implications of his statement. “Not that I think…well, that is to say…you’re quite… I mean, I would certainly…” William floundered, as Buffy arched a well sculpted brow in amusement.

“Hmm, I must apologize, for I fear there is no way to amend my words without further offense.”

“Now I *know* you’re not Spike!” Buffy mumbled. “Anyway, back to what I was saying…what was I saying?”

“Something about your manner of dress,” William helpfully supplied.

“Oh yeah, thanks! So, women, *all* women, dress like this now,” Buffy finished.

William considered her statement, but it sounded rather dubious to him.

“You know what? Let’s save this conversation for the morning,” Buffy said, sounding very fatigued and frustrated. “Once we’ve all had some rest and your head isn’t actively bleeding, things will make a lot more sense. You can crash on the couch for tonight.”

“Most certainly not!” William protested. “It would be terribly inappropriate, and mother…”

“Look buster!” Buffy seethed. “I’ve had one bitch of a day. You are going to stay in this house, on that couch, and get some nice relaxing sleep!” Buffy finished, in a tone broaching no argument. After a moment during which she appeared to recompose herself, she added in the more formal tones of a practiced hostess, “Now, is there anything I can get you before I go to bed?”

“No, no, I’ll be fine, thank you,” William hastily replied.

“Ok, well then… goodnight,” Buffy hesitantly bid as she made her exit.

“Well, I think that went well,” Anya cheerfully opined.





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