A Wish Your Heart Makes by Alexannah

Chapter #1 - Doodles of the Heart

Author’s notes: I have already finished this fic apart from the last chapter, so updates will be frequent and quick, as opposed to the rest of my fics. :) This fic is set around series 2/3, beginning between Some Assembly Required and School Hard – so Buffy and Spike have not met yet. Thanks to dawnofme for beta'ing ----- Shadows on the wall forming outlines of your face I reach out to touch you through time and through space In my dreams I’m always with you So let me sleep … I dream that you’re here with me, lying by my side This won’t last forever, let’s catch the sands of time I don’t want ever to wake … Let me sleep for a while, let me dream of your smile - S Club, “Let Me Sleep” Chapter One: Doodles of the Heart London, 1878 Buffy opened her eyes. Her bedroom, shadowy in the dark, was no longer there. It took her a moment to realise she was in an unfamiliar alleyway. It took her a moment longer to realise that she was standing in it, and that she was doing so without any idea how she got there. I must be dreaming, Buffy thought. Looking down, she gasped. She was dressed in a full, flowing old-fashioned dress in a soft pink colour. “Wow,” she breathed. “Someone pinch me.” There was nobody around to complete her request. She looked up at the stars, and gasped. There were many more visible in this dim light than she was used to seeing from home – or rather, when she was awake, assuming she was dreaming. The alley had a lingering stench, and that combined with the corset Buffy was wearing was beginning to make her feel rather faint. She made her way out of the alley and found a road. It was cobbled, and there were no electric streetlights. The buildings around her were all factories in the style of a century ago, but looked too recent to have been built then. She followed the road, tripping several times on her long skirt. A horse-drawn carriage came rattling around the corner, and she stared, before waving at it from the pavement. “Please stop!” The driver reined in the horse. “Can I help you, Miss?” His accent was Cockney, or something similar, Buffy noticed. “Um, yes. I seem to be kinda lost.” He looked her over. “You lookin’ fer an inn?” “Er …” An inn sounded good. Buffy may have been dreaming, but her feet hurt from her shoes rubbing uncomfortably against her toes and heel. “Yes, please, could you point me in the right direction?” “Well, there’s a big to-do at the Shootin’ Star tonight. Looks like that’ll be the best place fer a lady of your status.” Buffy glanced down at the stunning dress. “Keep on walkin’ tha’ way, once you get pas’ the factories it’s abou’ two minutes’ walk before you see it, can’t miss it.” “Thank you,” Buffy said. He topped his hat. “You’re welcome, Miss.” He clicked at the horses and jiggled the reins, and it started to move again. “Good night.” Buffy followed his directions and found the inn on a quiet road adjoining one full of tall, well-looked-after houses that, remembering her History classes, probably provided jobs for dozens of servants each. The inn was large and fancy, more like a hotel, with a long garden on one side containing a fountain and lined with rose bushes. Entering the inn nervously, she gazed around in wonder at her surroundings. Suddenly her feet had stopped hurting, as she saw people milling all around her straight out of one of those period romantic films her mother was so fond of. There was a commotion the other side of the room – some aristocrat had slid his cane out sideways just as another walked past, sending him flying. She hurried over. “I saw that!” Buffy snapped at the tripper, who looked shocked at her impertinence. “Are you alright?” she directed at the fallen man. He looked up at her and his mouth fell open. He was quite nice-looking, Buffy thought, and he had deep blue eyes that at that moment looked both confused and embarrassed. “Y-you mean me?” “Yes, I mean you.” Buffy offered him her hand to help him to his feet, but he brushed it off and stood up on his own, his cheeks slightly flushed. Buffy realised she had probably committed a big no-no. Even in the real world, guys got embarrassed if you “saved” them from other guys. And she wasn’t a History expert, but she knew that most of it had very chauvinistic views of women. “So, who’s your lady friend, William?” the aristocrat who had tripped him mocked. “Another muse for your worthless drivel? I would stay far away from this man, Miss, his poetry is the worst in England; and if he tries to write about you, it will scar you for life.” “No wonder I never see any eligible females within ten feet of him,” another gentleman chortled. William looked both humiliated and uncomfortable as the other men around him laughed. He pushed his glasses further up his nose and made to leave in a hurry, but Buffy stepped in his way. “I’m eligible,” she directed at the group. Bullies never changed and she thought she knew how to handle these ones. Besides, there was something about William that held her interest. Maybe it was his handsome features or his deep eyes that spoke of sensitivity and passion. Her first instinct was to ask him to dance, but thought just in time that it was probably too forward, and instead said to William, “Would you like to ask me to dance?” Every mouth in the vicinity fell open, especially William’s. When he found his voice, he stammered, “W-would you care to d-dance with m-me?” “I’d be honoured,” she replied, smiling and offering him her arm. William unfroze and took it, leading her onto the dance floor. The men he had been with merely stared after him, and Buffy smiled to herself, satisfied. “I must ask,” William said as he took a gentle hold of one of her hands and placed the other lightly on her back, “Did you only agree to dance with me out of pity?” “No, I didn’t,” Buffy said truthfully. “I would like to get to know you … William, right?” He nodded, smiling now, which made his face light up. “Yes. William Pratt. And you are Miss …?” “B – er – Elizabeth.” Maybe it was because she had already drawn enough attention to herself without telling everyone she was called Buffy – a name that was unusual enough in her time. In the two seconds she had to think one up, she chose Elizabeth – a name she knew her mother had briefly considered for her, after her grandmother. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Elizabeth.” His eyes sparkled from behind his glasses. “And thank you.” “Don’t thank me yet,” Buffy said as she stumbled on her skirt. “I should have warned you I’m not very good at dancing.” He chuckled and led her more firmly and slower, not seeming to mind her stumbling as he danced gracefully. It got easier, however, and Buffy found she was thoroughly enjoying herself. “So,” he said after a few minutes, “you’re American?” “Uh-huh.” “I haven’t seen you around here before.” “I’m new to the area,” Buffy invented. Even though she was positive this was simply a bizarre dream, she didn’t want to scare this cute young man away by telling him she was a vampire slayer from the twenty-first century in a dream world. “I’m staying here for a while before I go back to California.” “How long are you staying?” “I don’t know. We’ll see.” The music stopped and Buffy let go of William reluctantly. “Do you mind, I need a bit of fresh air.” “Do you object if I accompany you?” “Guess not,” Buffy smiled. It was a beautiful evening. The part of the garden nearest the building was full of people talking. Buffy hitched up her skirt and began to stroll down a path, William at her side, and they talked. Buffy found out that he lived with his mother Anne, that he was (or rather, tried to be) a poet, that he had lived in London his whole life and dreamed of travelling abroad some day – he didn’t care too much where. “I envy you,” he said to Buffy. “It must take courage to go to a strange land. Who are you travelling with? Family?” “No, I’m on my own.” Buffy smiled as his eyebrows rose in surprise. William also quizzed Buffy about herself, and she answered as truthfully as she could. She told him she was single (well, sort of, but she didn’t want to get into the Angel thing with a guy who was only part of her imagination anyway), had lived in California all her life, and admitted that she practised self-defence. He was very impressed at that, and asked if she could fight off an attacker. “I’d show you, but I don’t want someone to think you’re really attacking me and call the police on you,” she smiled. “Let’s just say I’m stronger than I look.” It felt strange being called Elizabeth, especially Miss Elizabeth. Buffy was considering asking him to call her Lizzie, when he suddenly stopped walking and looked around. “Where is everybody?” Buffy pointed up the garden to the inn. “We should go back,” William said in unease. “Why?” He looked around pointedly. “We’re alone.” “So?” There was a pause. “Obviously,” William said, “it’s more socially acceptable in California for a man and a woman who are unmarried to be seen alone together?” “Oh.” This part of the time difference had not occurred to Buffy. This sucks. “Well, so what? Do you really care what they think? And besides, it’s my reputation that would suffer, not yours.” “It’s your reputation I was thinking of.” “Well don’t bother, William. I honestly don’t mind. And I’ll prove it.” Buffy placed a hand behind his neck and gently pulled him down to her level and kissed him. ----- London, 1878, Some Months Later “Miss Elizabeth. It is a pleasure to see you again, as always.” Lizzie smiled at William as he kissed her hand politely, and his heart began to race. Her green eyes glittered mischievously and it was with a great effort that he released her hand and offered her his arm. “Would you care to take a walk with me?” “I would love to, William.” The two of them stepped outside into the cool night air and began walking slowly, at first in silence. They had grown so used to each other over the weeks of evenings spent in each other’s company that often, they found no words needed to be said. “Is that a shooting star?” Lizzie asked, stopping suddenly just outside a pair of park gates. William gazed into the night sky. “I think it is.” “That was rhetorical, William,” she replied, but lightly. “Make a wish.” He smiled broadly. “Can you guess what I wished?” “You’re not supposed to tell me, it won’t come true then.” “That is just silly.” “I know.” She giggled. “But it’s fun.” He stared at her in wonder. She had such a beautiful smile. “Are you all right?” she asked. He nodded quickly, beginning to blush. “Yes, yes.” William paused. “Lizzie …” “Yes?” He swallowed. “May I kiss you?” Lizzie smiled. “You don’t have to ask me permission, you know.” She took a firm hold on his hand and led him through the park gates and along the path a short way, until they came to a large bush. “You Americans have strange ways,” he told her as they pushed their way inside. “More privacy this way.” William chuckled, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Now, where were we?” “I think I remember,” he said, grinning, and kissed her. William and Lizzie had strolled, stopping occasionally for a few kisses, for a good two hours, until finally he insisted on walking her back home. “It is not safe for a young lady to walk about the city alone this late.” “I can look after myself.” “I won’t hear of it, Golden-locks.” She giggled at the nickname, and allowed him to lead her. They returned to the hotel Lizzie was staying at, and paused outside the door. “Well, goodnight,” she said softly. William gently brushed her cheek with his thumb. “May I see you again tomorrow night?” “Of course.” “You still haven’t told me how long you will be staying here,” he murmured. “That’s because I’m not sure, William.” Lizzie kissed him lightly on the lips. “I hope for a long time yet.” “So do I.” They said goodbye, and William left. As he turned the corner, he didn’t notice Lizzie fade away to nothing. ----- Sunnydale, Present Day Buffy hummed to herself as she dressed for the day, her mind still on her dream. It had been a recurring one for many weeks now. Strangely enough, although set in the same time and place with the same people, it was different every night – time seemed to move in the dream world at the same rate as it did in the real one. Dreaming always left her in a good mood, which she was sure her mother had noticed, but had not commented on. During the day, however, the good mood would usually dissipate. Things such as schoolwork and slaying tended to get in the way, and Buffy was beginning to feel somewhat guilty that she was dreaming of one man while in love with another. She and Angel weren’t even together, but she still felt as if she was somehow betraying him. She hadn’t mentioned her dream boyfriend to anyone. William was her private secret. The guy was so sweet and even though she saw him every night, she still missed him during the day. She found it rather ironic that she had to dream about a guy who, if he was real, would have lived a century before she did, to find someone that fulfilled her idea of a gentleman. It was also odd that she was dreaming about someone as gentle as William was when she had always had a thing for the bad boys. In any case, she found it rather refreshing. He may not be real, but it felt real, and for now, that was enough. Buffy only half-listened in her lessons, doodling on her textbook cover. When the bell rang, she looked down at what she had drawn. Right next to the heart encasing the words “Buffy & Angel” was a new heart. In this one she’d written, Lizzie & William. TBC …

Chapter #2 - Emerald Eyes

AN: I'm sorry, I've been updating this at Elysian Fields and forgot about this site! But here's chapter two. Other chapters are on their way. Chapter Two: Emerald Eyes London, 1878 “I’ve found her,” William said to his mother when he arrived home. “What was that, dear?” He smiled into the fireplace. “Elizabeth Winters.” He paused. They may not have known each other long, but the message from his heart was clear: she was the One. “I love her, Mother.” Anne Pratt laid down her sewing and positively beamed at her son. “I think that’s wonderful.” “Did you see the shooting star earlier?” William couldn’t help but ask. “Yes, I did.” “I wished she would marry me,” William said quietly. Anne gasped. “William!” He looked round, startled. “What?” “You shouldn’t have told me that!” she cried. “Now it won’t happen!” “Mother, that’s just superstition.” “Oh, William.” She started crying, and he hurried over to her, pulling out a handkerchief and offering it to her. “I hope that’s true. I want to see you with the one you love … I want to see you happy.” “I will be,” he assured her. “I’m not planning on asking her yet. I want to get to know her a little more first, and she may decide to return to America, but I will know when it’s the right time.” Anne kissed him. “I hope you’re right, dear.” ----- Sunnydale, Present Day “Buffy, you coming by the Bronze tonight?” “I don’t know.” Willow nudged her friend. “Angel might be there.” “Well …” “Oh, come on. If that doesn’t motivate you …” Buffy just squirmed. She had been having the dreams of William for months now and still had not told them to anyone. She had come to the conclusion that they were a way of having what she lacked in her day-to-day life: a normal relationship. Not that a dream man from the 1800s was normal, but at least he wasn’t Undead. Of course, if she mentioned recurring dreams to her friends, it would be a one-way trip down research lane and no more William. But still, with things as awkward as they were between her and Angel, she was feeling more guilty than ever. Although he had forgiven her for the ‘dance’ with Xander, she knew he was still jealous of him. What would Angel think if he could see inside her head? “Good thing he can’t,” she muttered. “What?” Willow’s voice jerked her out of her thoughts, and Buffy remembered her friends. “Nothing. Maybe I’ll come. I’ve got a lot of work to do, though. You do remember Parent-Teacher Night’s coming up, right?” “That’s not just yet. Is it?” Xander cut in. “Thursday after next. I’ve done my best to keep it from my mom, but I have to be prepared in case she finds out somehow.” ----- London, 1878 “When is your mother expecting us?” William checked his pocket-watch. “Not for another half-hour. Would you like to walk for a while?” “Of course,” Lizzie smiled, slipping her arm through his. They took a different route than usual, William leading the way. They stopped for a few minutes outside the park gates again, and he asked a question. “Lizzie, how old are you?” She looked surprised. “Sixteen. Why?” William gazed at her, a slight frown on his face. “Your eyes tell different.” “I know,” she replied. “They look older than I am.” “They’re still beautiful,” he said, leaning in for a kiss. After they broke apart, he added, “They sparkle like emeralds.” He had considered an emerald engagement ring. There had been some beautiful ones on offer, and he knew they would bring out the colour of her eyes. William was anxious that everything should be perfect, right down to every detail. Diamonds were the fashion, but Lizzie did not seem to be bothered by what other women wore, or thought of her. It was one of the reasons he was so fond of her. She was so different from the others – headstrong and sometimes outspoken. She even spoke differently, not just her accent; although she seemed to restrain herself from using words he did not understand, she occasionally did say something that sounded so strange he had to laugh. She had a peculiar sense of humour and a way of taking the lead. Others may have been put off by this, her forwardness, but he didn’t think anything she could do would make him think any less of her. She was unique; she didn’t conform to society’s rules and he found a long-dormant part of him that thirsted for adventure respecting her for it. And, of course, she was astonishingly beautiful; her eyes lit up so brilliantly when she smiled, and her hair was golden, smooth and worn loose around her shoulders, something unusual for a woman of her class. William was so in love with her, he didn’t think he could stand to wait until he had found the perfect ring – but he had to; he wanted to be able to propose with it. He also wanted it to be a surprise. So he moved the subject away from emeralds, and they began to walk again. ----- Sunnydale, Present Day Time continued to pass in the same vein, and Buffy focused her daytime attention on Parent-Teacher Night. If she and Sheila didn’t pull it off without a hitch, one or both of them would be expelled. Buffy could not bring herself to put that look of disappointment back on her mother’s face. The Big Night was only days away, however, when Buffy made a fateful trip to the Bronze. “Guys, I’m all alone out there. Somebody has to dance with me,” Xander said, coming over. “Well, we are studying,” Willow told him. “C’mon, one dance,” he pleaded. “You’ve been studying nearly twelve minutes.” Buffy brightened. “No wonder my brain’s fried.” She joined Xander on the dance floor, her mind for once not on homework, William, Angel, slaying, or not getting kicked out of school. The temporary relief from deep thought, however, was soon broken as a voice behind her spoke loudly. “Where’s the phone? I need to call the police. There’s some big guy out there trying to bite somebody.” As Buffy rushed out of the Bronze, Willow and Xander hot on her heels, it only vaguely occurred to her that she knew that voice … TBC …

Chapter #3 - Enter the Vampire

As the vampire turned to dust, the sound of slow clapping made Buffy whirl around. “Nice work, love.” She was about to ask who was there when the man — vampire — stepped out of the shadows and they saw each other clearly for the first time. Both gasped. There was a long silence. “Bloody hell,” he finally said. “It’s you!” Buffy was completely frozen. The man standing before her looked – no, *was* – exactly like William. Sure, his hair and clothes were different, but in every other way … She couldn’t speak. Xander broke the silence. “Isn’t this the part where you two are supposed to fight or something?” “Guys,” Buffy said, having found her voice, and feeling rather faint. “Go back inside.” “What?” Xander stared at her as if she was mad. “Buffy -” Willow protested. “I’ll be fine. *Go*,” she insisted. Her friends glanced at each other, before deciding to do as she asked and returning inside the Bronze. Buffy still hadn’t taken her eyes off William. “You’re a vampire?” she asked once they were alone. “You’re the Slayer,” he replied. There was an awkward pause. “How -” both began, before laughing slightly. “William,” Buffy breathed. A small frown crossed his face. “It’s Spike now.” He hesitated. “Lizzie … how on earth are *you* still around?” “I …” Buffy whispered. What on earth was she supposed to say? A scream rang through the night, and Buffy snapped back into slayer-mode. Tearing her eyes away from Spike, still standing still, she took off towards the alley where the sound had come from. One dusted vampire and rescued innocent victim later, she returned to the Bronze, but he was gone. ----- William was a vampire. Buffy fought her whirling feelings down until she arrived home, and then she shut herself in her bedroom and let herself cry. It was enough shock to find that the dreams, and William, were *real* – but then for a vamped William to show up out of the blue … Buffy choked on pent-up tears when she realised that vampire William looked no older than *her* William – her boyfriend was going to die, and soon. She had to stop it. Buffy wiped her eyes furiously, trying to be rational. Why did she have to stop it? It had already *happened*. Spike existed here, now. William was back then. Just because he was real to her didn’t mean - “But I love him,” she whispered, and froze. She hadn’t said those words. Not even in her head. But after speaking them, she realised they were the truth. She had loved Angel. Or rather, she had thought she had. But William had completely taken over those kinds of feelings and sent them spinning into a whole new direction. Not until now, knowing what she knew, had Buffy known the true depth of her feelings for him. *Wow, I really know how to pick them, don’t I,* she thought bitterly. She had to find a way to save him – and wanted make the most of the time they had together, in case … in case she couldn’t. Buffy cried a fresh wave of tears and resolved to show William just how much he meant to her, nineteenth-century etiquette be damned. ----- London, 1878 Tonight was the night. William could feel it. He had woken up with one single piece of knowledge in his mind: tonight was the night for his proposal. He had known her for months, but held off proposing until he knew it was the right time. He looked down at the small velvet jewellery box he’d purchased only that afternoon. This was it. Part of him had thought that this day would never come – that he would never find true love. But everything inside him told him that he had. “… And together, our souls entwined o’er the spirit of life,” he recited off of a piece of paper, “Elizabeth Winters, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?” A knock on the door interrupted him. “William? I thought you were meeting Miss Winters?” “I am, Mother.” “You will be late.” Anne moved into the room and put a hand on his shoulder. “Are you nervous?” He swallowed. “Very,” he admitted, and paused. “What if she says no?” “William,” Anne said gently, “I have seen the two of you together, and I can see that she loves you as much as you love her. She will not say no.” “You’re always right.” William smiled slightly, some of the nerves vanishing. “Of course I am; I am your mother.” A thought suddenly struck him. “Mother, you *do* like Lizzie, don’t you?” “I think she is a little … eccentric,” Anne said carefully. “But she seems a very sweet girl at heart, and I am sure the two of you will be very happy together.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Now go and meet her before she thinks you have deserted her.” “Thank you, Mother,” William said in earnest before hurrying from the house. William had planned to propose the moment he coaxed her into the garden, by the pink rose bushes. She had once told him that they were her favourite flowers. He had planned for them to sit on the bench, surrounded by their delicate scent, and read her his latest poem about her that he had worked on for weeks, before producing the box. Lizzie, for some strange reason, had always liked his poetry, so it was the perfect way to propose. The last couple of lines were the request itself. He skidded to a halt in front of the hotel entrance, just in time to be enveloped in a tight embrace that almost knocked him to the ground. “William, thank goodness!” “Er … Lizzie?” he said in bewilderment, gently prising her off him. “What on earth is the matter?” “You were late.” As she drew back, he was shocked to see the tears in her eyes. All thoughts of proposing immediately left his head. “I thought something had -” She broke off. “I am only late by ten minutes.” William pulled out a handkerchief and carefully dabbed her wet cheeks with it. “It’s nothing to get upset over, love.” She flinched back from his touch on the word ‘love’, and he suddenly realised what he had said. The word had not actually been spoken by either party yet, and he took the flinch as a bad omen. “I had a – a dream last night,” she whispered after an awkward pause. “Y-you were dead – and then when you didn’t show up -” “Shh.” He kissed her hand. “I am not dead, Lizzie; see, here I am!” She laughed slightly. “I-I know. I just … over-reacted.” William smiled at her to show it was fine. “Would you care to take a walk?” Lizzie took a moment to answer. “Actually …” “Yes?” She stepped forward, closer to him than she ever had before, except for when they were kissing. “I would like to go inside.” “Inside?” “Upstairs,” she whispered. William had to consciously stop his jaw from falling open, and couldn’t stop his eyes from widening considerably. “*Oh*. “Er … are you … sure?” “I’m sure,” Lizzie said, smiling now. “Take me upstairs, William.” He obliged, lifting her into his arms and carrying her up the staircase. On the first landing he stopped. “Lizzie – what about – your reputation? People were watching us leave -” “What reputation?” she asked in a playful tone, kissing his ear. “Er … good point.” “That room’s mine.” She pointed to a door. “Where is the key?” he asked. “I lost it. Just kick it open, I’ll pay the manager for a new lock.” “As my lady commands.” William glanced around for any witnesses and kicked the door open, entered and set Lizzie down inside. “You don’t have many possessions here,” he commented as she dragged a table over to the door. “Here, allow me.” “I always keep my things packed, just in case.” He paused. “Do you … still not know when you may be returning home?” A strange look came over her face, and his heart stopped. “Oh, no. Is that why you said – is this because you’re leaving?” “No,” Lizzie insisted, resting a finger on his lips. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” She kissed him and removed his coat. “Lizzie …” William’s throat had gone dry. “Er …” “Yes, William?” she said, starting to undo his shirt buttons. “I - er - there was something I was going to ask you …” He trailed off. Lizzie had pulled his shirt undone and was starting to undo her dress. “On second thought, I think it can wait until morning.” TBC …

Chapter #4 - Gone

Lizzie looked down on her lover’s face and sighed. He looked so peaceful; she didn’t want to disturb him. She lightly traced his features with one finger over the defined cheekbones, the closed lids of his brilliant blue eyes, and the curl of his lips. “I love you,” she whispered. As the words left her mouth, she froze. William stirred slightly at the sound of her voice, but slept on. She kissed William gently and whispered, “I’ll save you, William. Somehow. I’ll find out how I can do it, and then I will. I promise.” Her eyes were itching, and she didn’t want to go to sleep. She would just rest them for a moment, she told herself. Just a moment … ----- Sunnydale, Present Day Buffy woke up with only one thought in her mind: that she had to save William. There was no way she could sit back and let her boyfriend become a vampire. Not getting kicked out of school took a back seat as she wracked her brain during class. At lunchtime, she headed towards the library where Willow and Xander were already there with Giles, knee-deep in books. “Spike,” Giles was saying. “That's what the other vampire called him? That's a little unorthodox, isn't it?” “I don’t care,” Buffy stated clearly. “Just find out everything you can about him for me. His habits, his past. Everything.” “Guy gave me the creeps,” Willow said, shuddering. “I will do my best, Buffy, but we don’t have a lot to go on. He can't be any worse than any other creature you’ve faced.” “He's worse,” said a voice from behind Buffy. She whirled around to see Angel standing there, and the vampire continued to speak, “Once he starts something he doesn't stop until everything in his path is dead.” “Hmm,” said Xander. “So, he’s thorough, goal-oriented.” “You know him?” Buffy asked Angel quietly. Angel chuckled darkly. “We’ve met.” “Might seem a pointless question, but …” Buffy swallowed, dreading the answer. “What year was he made a vampire?” There was silence for a moment. “You’re right, that does seem like a pointless question,” Xander said. “She wasn’t asking you,” Willow said, “and I think it’s valid. I mean, the longer a vampire’s lived for, the more dangerous they are, right?” “Well, that’s usually the case -” Giles began. “Angel,” Buffy cut across him, “can you just answer the question?” He nodded. “1880. Can’t remember the exact date.” Two years to go. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “Is there anything else useful you can tell us about this Spike fellow?” Giles enquired. Angel considered. “He may be young for a vampire, but don’t let that fool you. He’s very good in a fight.” He hesitated. “Buffy -” “Yes?” “I don’t want to scare you, but -” “But what?” “There can only be one reason why he’s here, and that’s because of you.” For a moment Buffy thought he knew about William, before he added, “You’re the Slayer. He’s here to kill you.” Buffy’s heart turned cold, but she laughed it off. “He’ll have to join the queue. I think most vampires around here are.” “No, you don’t understand. Buffy, Spike has faced two slayers before, and – he’s killed them both.” This time, her stomach turned horribly. A moment later, she clamped a hand to her mouth and ran to the bathroom. Giles removed his glasses. “Oh, dear.” ----- London, 1878 William sat bolt upright. “Lizzie?” Her side of the bed was empty. “Lizzie, where are you?” There was no answer. He pushed back the covers, climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom. She wasn’t there. Frowning, he saw that nothing was there. It seemed Lizzie didn’t even keep her washing items unpacked. Wondering if she had gone downstairs for some reason, he returned to the bedroom to find his clothes and froze. Lying on the floor, exactly where she’d left them, were Lizzie’s clothes, shoes and jewellery. All where they had been dropped. “Lizzie!” William called louder. “Are you playing a trick?” He found his shirt and trousers, pulled them on, and started hunting around the en-suite, even checking inside the empty wardrobe. When he ran out of places to look, he sat down on the bed, wondering what else to try, and it suddenly occurred to him that he had not found a single case. Lizzie’s only possessions in the en-suite were her discarded clothes. And my heart, he added silently. Suddenly his mother’s words rang in his head: You shouldn’t have told me that! Now it won’t happen! “It’s just superstition,” he said out loud, trying to convince himself. Still, he couldn’t help but wish he had proposed before now, or that he hadn’t told his mother his wish. Where was she? Suddenly determined, William finished dressing, left Lizzie’s things where they were, removed the table from against the room door and headed down to the foyer, where he rang the bell at the reception desk. “Has Miss Elizabeth Winters checked herself out this morning?” he asked. “Just one minute, sir.” The receptionist looked up at him. “What room is it?” “Room 109.” The receptionist frowned. “Are you certain, sir? That room is not occupied this week.” “Pardon?” William had checked the room number before coming down. “Yes it is, it’s Miss Winters’ room. There must be some mistake.” “One moment please, sir.” The receptionist ran a finger down the list of guests. “There is no Miss Elizabeth Winters in this hotel.” “I’m telling you, there is,” William said, starting to get angry. Another receptionist murmured in the first’s ear, and he nodded at him. “Would this Miss Winters be the young American lady in pink?” At last, success. “Yes, that’s her.” The receptionist snapped the book closed. “Well then, I cannot help you. She does not stay at this hotel.” “I – she – what?” ----- Sunnydale, Present Day Buffy returned to the library, feeling rather shaky. The others all looked up as she entered. “Buffy! Are you all right?” Giles asked in concern. “I’m fine, thanks,” she lied and looked around for a change of subject. “Where’s Angel?” “He left,” Xander said. “But his information has been very useful,” Giles said, turning back to his books. “We’ve found our new friend Spike in here at last. He earned his nickname by torturing his victims with railroad spikes. Very pleasant …” Buffy clung to a table for support and took a few deep breaths to try to stop herself from throwing up again. “He’s also known as ‘William the Bloody’.” Buffy couldn’t help it; she exploded into giggles. Giles and the others stared at her in astonishment, but she knew that if she stopped laughing, she would burst into tears instead. “Buffy, I hardly think this is a laughing matter,” Giles said in his sternest voice. “I-I know,” Buffy choked out, struggling to control herself. If only they knew how that name had really come about, they would never be able to take Spike seriously. “I’m s-sorry.” “He may well have something planned for this Saturday,” Giles continued once she had calmed down. “This is going to need some preparation.” Buffy just nodded. ----- London, 1878 It was dull and grey outside. William had lost track of where he was walking several hours ago. Rain had started to fall, and there was a distinct rumble of thunder. He took no notice. Lizzie had gone, and he had no idea where she was or why she left, or why she had lied to him while she was there. He’d tried interrogating the hotel guests and people who lived nearby, but the only ones who didn’t tell him to go away said the same thing: they had seen him and Lizzie together, but had never spoken to her, or even seen her on her own. It was as if she only existed when she was with him. The rain soaked him through, but he didn’t care. Eventually, he came to a stop by the Thames. For a long while, he just stood there, letting the world go on around him, watching the patterns the rain made on the water and trying to stop his heart from aching. But the more he tried, the more thoroughly miserable he became. “Why did you do it, love?” he murmured to his rippled reflection. “You promised you weren’t leaving.” William dug in his pocket and pulled out the velvet box. He opened it and stared at the glittering diamond inside. It had been expensive, but it wasn’t the money. He stretched his arm out over the water, intending to drop the ring into it. Just one throw and Lizzie Winters would be out of his life forever. But he couldn’t let go. He threw it to the ground beside him and let the tears come. He didn’t care who saw him. The rain running down his face and dripping off his eyelashes would hide them anyway. William just needed to let it out, or he feared he would burst. As he cried, only one clear thought came to him – that he couldn’t go on like this. It was over. He had lost his love and, without her, what was the point? William just wanted his heartache to end. He’d had enough. This was it. William only took a moment to whisper goodbye to the world, before jumping into the Thames. ----- Sunnydale, Present Day “Honey, it’s time to get up.” Joyce pulled her daughter’s covers off her. “Come on, sleepyhead, or you’ll be late for school.” “Huh?” Buffy emerged sleepily. “Mom?” As her brain woke up, she realised with a jolt just what felt so wrong. There had been no dream that night. TBC …

Chapter #5 - On the Edge of a Knife

London, 1878 “William?” Anne’s anxious voice sounded as if from very far away, and he struggled to open his heavy eyelids. “Mother?” “Oh, thank heavens.” Gentle hands cradled his face, and his mother began to come into focus. “I was so worried!” “I …” William reached a hand up and took hold of one of hers. “Where am I?” “You’re safe at home, dear.” Anne kissed him on the forehead. “You’ve had a frightful chill. Doctor Gull didn’t know if you would make it.” He felt her shudder, and he squeezed her hand in comfort. “I’m not going anywhere, Mother,” he assured her, smiling slightly despite his broken heart. William resolved in that moment to keep his word. Lizzie may be gone, leaving a gaping, aching hole, but he would hold out. For his mother. She had no one else either. ----- Sunnydale, Present Day Spike did not show up again for the rest of the week. Neither did William in Buffy’s dreams. They had stopped altogether. Life, however, kept steadily on, causing problems as it went. Parent-Teacher Night had been a complete disaster. Despite Buffy and her friends’ desperate attempts to keep Joyce and Principal Snyder away from each other, they had had a talk right at the end of the evening, and Buffy was not only grounded forever but under serious threat of expulsion, thanks to not having helped prepare for the evening. As Sheila had also ditched, Willow and Xander had ended up doing most of the work, for which they were now in detention and rather sore at Buffy. Giles and Ms. Calendar were busy researching both Spike and St. Vigeous, and Buffy helped. Unfortunately, she got so caught up in research on Monday that she missed one and a half classes and got called to Snyder’s office. He looked positively gleeful. “You were warned, Miss Summers, that any more rule-breaking would result in severe disciplinary tactics,” Snyder gloated. “These are the moments you want to savour. You wish time would stop so that you could live them over and over again. You’re expelled.” ----- Despite having left the school before the official day ended, Buffy did not return home until the evening. Still in shock, she did not know whether the school office had called her mother or if she had to tell her what had happened. Either way, Buffy could barely bring herself to face her. In the end, the only reason she made her way home was because she finally decided she ought to get the inevitable confrontation over with. Buffy tried to unlock and open the door as quietly as she could, and let herself into the kitchen. She could hear the murmur of voices in the living room, and decided to try and get upstairs unnoticed. The last thing she wanted was the inevitable confrontation in front of company. As she placed her foot on the first stair, however, she tuned into the conversation when she heard her name. “So, how long have you known Buffy?” her mother was asking. “A long time,” was the reply. Buffy thought she might be sick again as she recognised the voice. She charged into the living room, stopping dead at the scene. Spike was sitting back in the armchair, chatting politely with Joyce over mugs of hot drink. Both looked up as she entered the room. “Oh, there you are, Buffy. You were supposed to be home hours ago.” Although Buffy could tell immediately that her mother was annoyed with her, she could also tell that Joyce didn’t know she was expelled. She didn’t dwell on it, instead she stared at Spike. “What are you doing here?” she asked in a dangerously low voice. “Your mother invited me in.” Spike smiled infuriatingly at her. Buffy rounded on Joyce, who spoke before her daughter could. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend, Buffy. You should have introduced us before -” “I don’t have a boyfriend.” To Spike, she added, “Get out of my house.” “Buffy!” Joyce looked between the two of them, shocked. Spike just pointed to the mantle. Buffy saw a bunch of pink roses in one of her mother’s vases. “Those are for you.” Was he deliberately trying to provoke her? Buffy wondered, before thinking: yes, he was. He was evil now. Of course he would do everything he could to rub her feelings in it. “Mom,” she said, “Can you give us a moment? Alone?” “O-of course,” Joyce replied, standing and leaving the room. “Take as long as you need.” There was a long silence after she left, the two of them just looking at each other. Finally Buffy spoke. “If you go near my mother again,” she threatened, “I will kill you.” “Don’t worry, pet. Killing your mum isn’t exactly high on my list of priorities, ‘specially as it would piss you off to no end.” Spike sat back and rested his feet on the coffee table. “Wouldn’ exactly be the best way to get into your -” “Get into my what, exactly?” “Good books. Besides, Joyce is nice. She gave me hot chocolate with marshmallows.” He indicated his mug on the table. Buffy sat down opposite Spike. “What are you doing here?” “I thought we could talk,” he said, more softly now. He sounded more like the William Buffy knew and she felt her heart speed up. “About what?” She tried to keep her voice neutral. Spike shrugged. “Us.” “There is no ‘us’, Spike. I am not an idiot. I know who you are – what you are,” she corrected. He gave her one of his searching looks. “That’s the thing. See, you know me, but I really don’t understand you, pet. You’re the Slayer, huh?” “That would be correct.” “I was supposed to kill you,” Spike stated matter-of-factly. “That’s what the local vamps want. That was what I wanted too – till I recognised you.” “Like you killed two other slayers,” Buffy said softly. He nodded. “Someone’s been doing her homework.” He paused. “Now, maybe you can clear something up for me.” “You’re going to ask how I’m still alive after a century.” Buffy smiled slightly. “You always could finish my sentences.” Spike grinned at her. Buffy swallowed. “I’m just a regular slayer; I’m not immortal or anything like that. All I know is that months ago I start having these dreams – where I’m somewhere else, somewhen else. If that’s even a word. Then, a few days ago, the vampire you shows up in real life and the dreams stop.” She paused. “Obviously, they weren’t just dreams, but I can’t tell you exactly what they were. There, you have your answer. Now go.” “That’s all?” Spike was almost gaping at her. “There was no feeling? What about all the things we did together? All the things we said. What about that last night when we made love?” “None of that means anything now,” Buffy whispered, feeling her heart break as she said the words. “Like hell it doesn’t!” Spike stood suddenly, his face contorted in anger. “Lizzie -” “If you must call me by name, it’s Buffy.” “Buffy. Right,” Spike ground out. “Are you telling me your feelings have changed so much in the last – what – three days, that you’re not even willing to consider--” “Consider what? Spike, there is nothing to consider. I don’t know why we’re even having this conversation. Why don’t you just try and kill me now, so I can dust you and be done with it?” “You wouldn’ do it,” he whispered. “And neither would I. Bloody hell, woman, what’s got into you?” “It’s not me that something’s got into, Spike,” Buffy retorted. “For goodness’ sake, you’re a demon.” “Oh, I get it.” Spike glared at her. “You don’t think I’m still capable of love.” “That would be because you’re not.” He glared at her, fists clenched. “Lizzie, you were the only woman I ever, truly loved! I’ve been with Drusilla for decades, but it’s not the same – she’s not you. I have loved you all these years. I couldn’t stop, and believe me when I say I’ve bloody well tried to! Not even becoming a demon stopped it!” Buffy remained silent. Inside, she desperately wanted to believe him – in her head she screamed I know, I love you too, let’s work this out, I love you! But before she could voice her desires, her self-preservation kicked in and spoke up: Don’t be an idiot, Buffy. It’s a trick, he’s just trying to get you to trust him so he can kill you. He’s evil. She opened her mouth at last. “Please leave my house, Spike.” He looked as if she had slapped him and started to protest, but stopped himself as Joyce entered the room, looking anxious. “I thought I heard shouting. Is everything all right?” “Everything’s fine,” Buffy lied in a quiet voice. “Spike was just leaving. Weren’t you, Spike?” For a moment, she thought he would not respond, but he slowly turned and opened the front door. “Thanks for the chocolate, Mrs. Summers,” he said over his shoulder and left. Buffy dropped to her knees and wept. ----- Joyce didn’t think she had ever seen her daughter cry so hard. Not knowing exactly what was wrong, all she could do was hold her in her arms and murmur empty words of comfort whilst keeping up a steady supply of Kleenex. When Buffy’s sobs finally gave way to soft hiccupping, Joyce carefully dried her face and kissed her on the top of her head. “Boyfriend trouble?” she questioned gently. “He’s not my boyfriend,” Buffy repeated in a thick voice. “Oh.” Joyce paused. “Well, that’s a relief. He seems a nice young man, but I think he is a little too old for you.” Buffy let out a dark laugh into a wad of tissues, but Joyce couldn’t see the joke. “You have no idea, Mom.” She looked up at her. “Thanks.” “You’re welcome, honey. If you want to talk about it …” She shook her head vigorously. “I think I just wanna go to bed. It’s been a long week.” “All right. Would you like some hot ch -” Buffy almost flinched. “No. Thanks.” Neither said much else while Buffy got ready for bed, and then Joyce came in to say goodnight. Buffy was falling asleep already. Joyce turned the light out and retreated downstairs. After washing up, she remembered that she had forgotten to check the messages from that day. There were two about the gallery, and the then the third, recorded that morning, made her gasp in shock. “Mrs. Summers, this is the Sunnydale High School office. We regret to inform you that your daughter, Buffy, has been expelled from this school. Principal Snyder requests that you come and collect your daughter as soon as possible. Have a nice day.” ----- When Buffy woke up the next morning, it took a moment for her to remember why she felt so tired and nervous. Then the memories of Spike’s visit and her expulsion came back and she thought she was going to be sick again. Instead, she forced herself to get up as normal, and face her mother. Every step on the staircase sent a fresh wave of nausea through her, mingled with cold dread. When she came to the bottom, she was nearly hyperventilating and had to take several deep breaths before she entered the kitchen. Joyce was sitting at the table, her eyes focused on the mug of coffee in front of her. “Morning, Buffy.” She didn’t sound as if she was in a good mood. “Um, morning, Mom,” Buffy tried. She hovered, unsure what to say. There was no breakfast on the table or cooking. Joyce spoke again. “I didn’t do any pancakes because I thought you might not be getting up yet.” She paused. “On account of your not having to go to school this morning.” Buffy sighed with relief. She didn’t have to tell her after all. Joyce finally looked up at her daughter. “I got a message on the answering machine after you went to bed last night.” Buffy hung her head, unable to meet her mother’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’ve let you down. Again.” She let out a muffled sob. “Oh, honey.” Joyce hurried over and drew Buffy into a hug. Neither of them spoke a word. There seemed to be no words that could describe the whirl of emotions between them. ----- “I had to come by when I heard,” Giles said before Joyce had even finished opening the door. “How is Buffy?” She stood aside to let him in. “Buffy is … I’m not sure. I don’t really know what to say to her. Thank you for coming over. I know it will mean a lot to her.” “Do you think I could talk to her?” “You can try. I don’t think she would come out of her bedroom for anyone right now. Wait in the living-room a moment, I’ll try and get her downstairs.” “Honey?” Joyce called into Buffy’s bedroom from halfway up the stairs. “It’s Mr. Giles to see you.” There was no reply. Joyce sighed and climbed the rest of the stairs. “Buffy, Mr. Giles is downstairs to see you. Will you come down?” There was a grumbled “Fine” and after a moment Buffy appeared in her bedroom doorway. She followed her mother downstairs, and Giles saw that her eyes were red and she was still in her crumpled pyjamas. Buffy sat down on the sofa, not looking at either of the adults. “Buffy?” he said gently, sitting down opposite her and reaching out an arm to touch her shoulder. She flinched away, surprising him. Joyce sighed. “You’ll probably be more successful if you try the wall,” she told Giles. “Do you want a drink?” “That would be lovely.” “Tea?” “Yes, please. One sugar.” Joyce moved into the kitchen and put the kettle on. After a long silence in the living room, Buffy finally spoke. “Guess you’re pleased now.” “Pleased?” Giles said, confused. “Why on earth would I be pleased that you’re expelled?” “Now I don’t have school holding me back, I can work for you full time.” Buffy’s voice was strangely bitter. “Buffy!” For a shocked moment, that was all Giles could think of to say. “I, you, you don’t work for me! And of course I’m not happy about this. Snyder is not being fair, and I will be having words with him.” “So will I,” Joyce said as she came in with a mug of tea for Giles. “Don’t worry, honey, we won’t let this go without a fight.” “Don’t bother,” Buffy said, so quietly they had to strain their ears to hear her. “We all know I’ll just get expelled again. And again. It’s all part of who I am.” “Buffy …” Joyce tried, while Giles simply sat with his mouth hanging open, a stance most unlike him. “Guess I should just be grateful that I don’t have to sit in another Chem class, and resign myself to the fact that I’m going to be working in the Doublemeat Palace for the rest of my life.” Giles found his voice and addressed her in his sternest variation. “I won’t hear of it.” “Buffy, what’s got into you?” Joyce questioned. “Nothing. I’m just being realistic.” Buffy paused. “You can’t live in a dream world.” ----- Buffy grimaced as Giles attempted to explain her chemistry work to her. Several weeks had passed since she had been expelled. Giles, who after his attempt to ‘convince’ Snyder had failed, had informed the stubborn principal that he was on strike until Buffy was allowed back at the school, and was teaching her during the day with work Willow brought over. Joyce, meanwhile, was researching other schools in the area despite her daughter’s misgivings. Although her bitterness about being expelled had diminished somewhat, Buffy found she was still going through mood swings. Some were connected to school, but most of the rest were connected to her recent heartbreak. She had not told anyone about William/Spike. In all honest truth, she had no idea what she would say. Buffy grieved silently for her dead boyfriend, and every night hoped that she would find an answer, or at least some kind of resolution, that could help her to move on. She wanted to keep up her relationship with Angel, but they had grown distant because of her feelings for William, and Buffy no longer felt much more for him than friendship. Spike had not shown up again in person, but a week after his visit Buffy had received a parcel in the post. It was anonymous, but she knew perfectly well who sent it as, inside, was the pink dress she had worn when she and William had met. Rather than burning it, which she had briefly considered as an attempt to purge him from her life, she tucked it away safely in the back of her wardrobe. Every few days a bunch of pink roses would find their way onto her doorstep. Buffy gave them all to the neighbours. Every time she received one of these tokens, she had to forcibly remind herself that Spike was nothing more than William’s walking, talking corpse. Any and all thought of Spike still made her queasy, and sometimes not even thinking about him did as well. Joyce was starting to worry that Buffy was coming down with some kind of bug. It wasn’t long, however, before Buffy realised that there was more to it than that. TBC …

Chapter #6 - Living Dreams

Time passed too quickly for Buffy's liking - ever since she had found out she was pregnant. She hadn't told anyone, still in denial that it was happening at all. She'd managed to pass off the morning sickness as a stomach bug, but now at five months along, she knew she couldn't hide the pregnancy for much longer. One day, whilst Buffy satisfied a craving for a cheese and chocolate spread sandwich, Cordelia looked her up and down and commented, “Buffy, you might want to start cutting back on all those carbs. You’re starting to get fat.” Buffy froze mid-mouthful, while her friends all spoke at once. “Cordelia!” Xander scolded. “Talk about tactless,” Oz said. “Buffy’s not fat,” Willow said. “Don’t be mean.” “I’m not being mean. I’m just being honest.” Cordelia gave Buffy her I’m-being-charitable smile. “Thanks, Cordelia,” Buffy said coldly. The last thing she wanted was more attention drawn towards the weight gain. “No problem,” Cordelia answered, as if pleased that she had done Buffy a great big favour. Despite trying to hide under looser clothing, Buffy knew she would not be able to keep her condition concealed much longer, and she still had no idea what she was going to tell everyone. How were you supposed to say that you’re carrying the baby of a man who’s been dead for more than a century? Buffy had been doing her best to avoid anything to do with her slaying, for fear of harming the baby. When Giles thought she was patrolling, she was actually at home and so far, she had managed to get out of physically fighting every time a crisis came up, leaving her armed friends to deal with it. She felt guilty about this, but knew that if they knew the truth, they may understand why she could not fight but she would have to deal with all of their questions. Probably because of her lack of active participation on the Slaying front, Buffy had not seen Spike face to face for a while, although she knew he had called at the house several times and been turned away by her mother. She couldn’t risk meeting him, because William had always been pretty observant. He was bound to notice her changing figure, put it together with her recent lack of ass-kicking and work out what was up. The last person in the world Buffy wanted to know she was pregnant was Spike. Although trying her best not to think about him, Buffy had not been able to stop herself from researching what could possibly have caused her dreams to become so … real. Her efforts had been rewarded when, finally, she came across a reference to something called “living dreams” in one of Giles’ difficult volumes, which defined them as a state enabling one’s astral self to take physical form in a different reality, place or time, whilst that person is asleep. No other useful details were given, but Buffy had read enough to know it was what had happened to her. It had been easy to research, because all the supernatural books that had previously been in the library were currently sitting in boxes in the Summers’ basement. After going on strike, Giles had removed them all from the library and politely requested that he keep them there, as his house didn’t have the room – or so he said. It wasn’t until Buffy came down early one morning to find Giles himself sleeping on the couch that it was discovered Snyder had fired him over the strike, and he had lost his house, and had hidden the fact because he hadn’t wanted Buffy to feel guilty about it. That was two weeks ago, and it already felt as if he had become a permanent member of the family. Giles had moved into the spare room and spent most of the time he wasn’t tutoring Buffy or helping out with household chores perusing the jobs section of the newspaper. Apparently, the salary paid to him by the Watcher’s Council was not particularly generous. Giles eventually managed to secure himself a job interview at the local library. The morning of the interview, Buffy watched in amusement as Joyce fussed over him at breakfast, straightening his tie and practically force-feeding him breakfast. Buffy was starting to wonder if there was something going on between Giles and her mother and was almost certain after he hesitantly gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before bidding them both goodbye and leaving the house. It was sweet, Buffy thought. If a little weird. Still, at least they seemed happy. It would be nice to see a happy ending, even if it wasn’t hers. She sighed and stirred her cereal. Joyce fixed her with a stare that began to make her feel rather uncomfortable. “Mom?” “Honey, is there something you want to tell me?” “Huh?” Buffy stilled, her spoon halfway to her mouth. “No. Why?” “It’s just,” Joyce said awkwardly, “you’ve been so down lately. I know things are difficult at the moment with school – or the absence of - and everything, but I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me.” Buffy opened her mouth. Now was the perfect time to tell her mother. But the words that ended up coming out were, “Nothing’s wrong, Mom. I’m fine.” “Are you sure?” Joyce looked at her closely, and Buffy hoped what she had heard about being able to tell a pregnant woman from her eyes was a myth. “Because - well - you just seem so tired, and you’ve been at the comfort food a lot recently, and – you had that argument with that nice young man Spike who keeps dropping by and you won’t let in -” “I’m fine, Mom.” Buffy’s voice came out sharper than she had intended. Joyce sighed. “Buffy, I’m your mother. I know when you’re fine, and you’re far from it. I just don’t know exactly what’s wrong.” She paused. “All right. I’ll drop the subject for now, but you know you can always talk to me, honey.” She kissed her as she stood up. “About anything.” Buffy thought about what her mother had said as she finished her breakfast and left the house for a walk to clear her head. She had missed the perfect opportunity to tell Joyce what was going on and she hated herself for it. But her fear of rekindling that disappointment in her mother had stopped her. She had been expelled twice, and even now that Joyce knew of the slaying and how it had been responsible for Buffy’s bad record, the scars were still there. Tears suddenly welled in Buffy’s eyes as she crossed the road, and she had to stumble to a stop for lack of vision. Before she could wipe them dry and hurry off the road, a horn sounded alongside a squeal of brakes, and she knew no more. ----- “Rupert!” Giles looked up as Joyce appeared round the corner, hurrying towards him. “Is she -” “Buffy should be fine,” he assured her, clasping her hand and squeezing it for comfort. “She wasn’t hit too hard – and she’s tough. She’ll be all right.” Joyce broke down into sobs and cried into his shoulder. “I was just so scared -” “I know,” he murmured, just holding her. “But Buffy will be fine. You’ll see.” Just then, the doctor came out. “How’s Buffy?” Giles asked as Joyce turned, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “Your daughter will be fine,” he addressed them together, obviously under the impression that they were both Buffy’s parents. “Just a mild concussion and a fractured wrist. And the baby is also fine, completely unharmed.” There was a pause. “Baby?” Joyce said blankly. “What baby?” ----- Buffy was sleeping when they entered the ward. There were dark shadows under her eyes, and Joyce suspected this was the first time her daughter had slept properly in a while. Pale and still, dressed in a white hospital gown that made her look even paler, suddenly Buffy’s previously secret pregnancy was obvious. Joyce collapsed onto a chair by her bed, tears starting to prick at her eyelids. “My poor, poor baby,” she murmured, cradling Buffy’s head in her arms. “Oh, Buffy, what have you done? You’re so young,” she said, choking back tears. Giles was hovering awkwardly and rested a gentle hand on Joyce’s shoulder. He didn’t speak – no words were needed. She clasped the hand on her shoulder with one of hers and completely broke down. Buffy slept for several hours. Joyce and Giles kept a constant vigil at her bedside, only moving when one went to get some coffee. Finally, she began to stir and Giles slipped outside to give Joyce and her daughter some privacy. “Honey?” Joyce murmured as Buffy’s eyes flickered open. “It’s Mom. How are you feeling?” “I -” Buffy looked around. “Where am I?” “You’re in the hospital, Buffy; a car ran into you. Don’t you remember?” Buffy slowly nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Am – am I okay?” Joyce smiled sadly, understanding the anxiety in her daughter’s voice. “You’ll be fine. You both will.” She squeezed Buffy’s hand, and Buffy’s eyes widened as she realised Joyce knew. “Mom, I – Please don’t be disappointed,” Buffy whispered, tears starting to well up. “Oh, Buffy, is that why you didn’t tell me? You thought I would be disappointed in you?” Joyce had started to cry again now. Buffy nodded. “Aren’t you?” “No, honey, I’m not. I’m upset and I’m shocked and I’m confused, but you should have come to me.” Joyce pulled Buffy into her arms and rocked her as if she was a baby herself. “How far along are you?” “Five months,” Buffy whispered. “And – the father?” “I don’t want to talk about that, Mom. Please.” Joyce thought for a moment. “Buffy, did you tell anyone you’re pregnant?” Slowly Buffy shook her head. “Not even one of your friends?” “No-one,” Buffy whispered. “So you were all alone,” Joyce murmured. “Buffy, please, next time you have a burden you don’t feel you can share with me, please talk to one of your friends or someone about it. I hate the thought of you bearing it all on your own.” But I’m always alone, Buffy thought. I’m always different. The Slayer. The first girl to have the baby of a man who died a hundred years ago. What’s the difference? It’s always me. ----- The inevitable conversation with her friends wasn’t quite as painful as the one Buffy had shared with her mother. Although they were shocked, especially Willow, who thought Buffy ought at least to have let her best friend know she was seeing someone, none of them burst into tears on her and they all promised to help out when needed, babysitting or just lending a hand. Buffy watched the expressions on their faces and when Xander frowned slightly and opened his mouth, Buffy saved him the trouble of asking. “Before you ask, I don’t want to talk about the father. He is not to be mentioned again on penalty of getting your ass kicked by me. We clear?” “Yes,” Xander assured her. Maybe leaving them wondering about the baby’s paternity was not the best course to take, but Buffy didn’t know what else she could do. She didn’t want the truth known. It was easier this way. Facing Angel, however, was torture. Buffy knew he would be deeply hurt by the fact that she had been seeing someone else (even if she hadn’t really known it was any more than just a dream at the time). She was not prepared for the look of utter betrayal that crossed his face when she told him. Angel stormed out of the room, leaving her in tears. At least it was out in the open now. Although she had kept William/Spike a secret, she figured after this last confrontation no one would ever need to know, or find out, the truth. She dug around in her wardrobe and found an old coat hanging in the back. It was thick and fur-lined and when Buffy buttoned it up, it just about concealed her pregnancy. Satisfied with her reflection, she headed towards the factory where she knew Spike would be. He looked up as she entered, his face in an expression of surprise. “Oh, it’s you. Lizzie – or would you prefer Buffy?” “‘Slayer’ will do fine,” Buffy said. “What do you want?” He gave her a searching look and Buffy shifted her weight slightly from one foot to the other, self-conscious. “Come to kill me?” “No. I’m giving you a twenty-four hour warning. Leave my sight, leave my town, get out of my life.” “Or what?” he retorted, a grin spreading across his face. “Or I will kill you.” “Will you really.” There was a touch of amusement in Spike’s voice. “What is your problem, Lizzie? Why is everything so different now?” “Are you kidding me?” Buffy exclaimed. “You’re a dead man, William. You’re a vampire.” “Your point being? You were willing to date Angel. Yeah, I know all about that. Why not me? I’ve known you for longer, loved you for much longer than he has.” “You’re evil, Spike.” “Aha!” Spike glared at her. “And so we have our answer, finally. That’s it? That’s the reason you’ve barely given me a chance? Well, so what? Oh, that’s right, you think I can’t love because I’m evil, right? Wrong! Wake up, Lizzie, I’ve been in love with you for over a century.” “Maybe you think you are, Spike,” Buffy said. “Maybe to you it still feels like it, and maybe to you the memories of William are as real as the ones of last week. But you’re not William, and you never will be without a soul. You’re beneath me.” Spike actually flinched and his eyes narrowed. “And so, we’ve finally hit the nail on the head.” He pointed an accusatory finger in her face. “I’m not good enough for you because I don’t have a soul.” “Without it, Spike, you’re just a demon in William’s body with his memories and some twisted semblance of his personality.” He grabbed her by the arms and pulled her closer. “It’s not all black and white, pet. Look in my eyes. I can be the man you want.” Buffy slowly shook her head. “William would never have grabbed me like that.” “Tell me you don’t love me,” Spike whispered. “Look me in the eye and say it, and I’ll leave your life forever, I swear.” Buffy tried to keep eye contact as she stammered, “I-I don’t.” Spike shook his own head in disbelief. “Your eyes say different.” “Just go, Spike. Please.” He stared at her for a moment, and then released her. “As you wish.” TBC …

Chapter #7 - Confessions

Author's note: I'm sorry about not updating for a while, Christmas came and an art project deadline ... anyway, only one more chapter to go after this! Chapter Seven: Confessions Things were easier with Spike gone. Buffy finally felt free to mourn William for who he had been, rather than suppressing confusing feelings that were tangled up in the existence of Spike. Some part of her brain kept trying to tell her that Spike had left a little too easily. He had to be up to something, but she wouldn’t listen. She had more pressing matters to think about. “So come on, Buffy, tell,” Willow’s eager voice sounded over the phone. “Boy or girl?” “Say pretty please,” was Buffy’s reply. “Buffy!” “Oh, all right.” Buffy couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face as she said, “It’s a girl.” The exited squeal at the other end meant she had to hold the phone two feet away from her ear for several seconds, before putting it back. “You done, Will?” “Yeah. Sorry. I just can’t believe it.” Buffy couldn’t believe it either. The birth was drawing nearer and everyone was feeling apprehensive, but also excited. Willow was telling everyone she was going to be an auntie, including all the teachers, the milkman and random strangers on the street. Xander had been demanding that Buffy name the baby after him if it was a boy. Joyce and Giles could not have been more supportive, and Buffy knew she would have had a breakdown by now if it had not been for the two of them. They were the best parents she could have asked for. So when Giles came into her room and started talking awkwardly about the weather, she knew exactly what to say. “Giles, was there something you wanted to ask me?” He met her eyes, and she smiled reassuringly at him. “Actually, Buffy, I wanted to talk to you about your mother,” Giles said carefully. “I think you two are great together.” He raised his eyebrows at her, and she grinned. “Really, I do. You make each other happy and I’m fine with it. Really.” It seemed to take a moment for what she had said to sink in, but when it had he beamed. “Well, that’s … good.” “You asked her out yet?” “Buffy, we live in the same house. Temporarily,” he added. Buffy pointed out that despite Giles being fully employed in the local library for the last few months, nobody had brought up the subject of him moving back out. He had become very much a member of the family and insisted on putting his wages towards housekeeping and a college fund for the baby. “You could do some overtime and take her out to dinner somewhere posh,” Buffy suggested. “Mom likes the romantic stuff.” “I’ll bear that in mind. Thank you, Buffy.” “Giles, there’s actually something I wanted to ask you.” Buffy paused, biting her lip. “When my baby is born … would you be okay with being called Grandad?” Giles pulled Buffy into a hug in response. ----- Giles put his head around the door. “Buffy? We’re leaving now.” “Okay.” Buffy looked up from Baby Names A-Z. “Have fun.” “You’re sure you know where the phone numbers are, in case -” “Giles, relax, you’re as bad as Mom. I’m not due for another couple of weeks. I’ll be fine on my own for a few hours.” He sighed. “Your mother and I are entitled to worry about you, young lady.” He turned his head slightly to read the cover of her book. “Have you still not decided, then?” Buffy shook her head. “You would think knowing that I’m having a girl would make it seem easier to pick a name. I mean, it does cut down my options by about fifty percent. But I just feel overwhelmed by it all. I can’t decide.” “I’m afraid I have no experience in that department. You could try asking your mother,” Giles suggested, before apparently thinking better of it. “Well, perhaps not.” Buffy threw a cushion at him and he chuckled. “Well, see you later.” “Where are you taking Mom?” Buffy asked, grinning. “I made reservations at the new restaurant in the town centre. All the papers had very good reviews of it.” “Rupert!” Joyce’s voice called up the stairs. “We’re going to be late!” Buffy bade them goodbye and they left. Once the house was quiet, she sighed, the smile sliding off her face. She was trying so hard to be strong, to keep going without looking back at the past, but it was exhausting. Every now and then, when she was alone – well, as alone as she could be – she let herself cry a little, just to prevent it all from bottling up and exploding. She missed William so much. There was a constant dull ache in her chest, which grew painfully sharp on the rare times she allowed herself to think about him. The book she had found the definition of living dreams in was still under her bed. Buffy picked it up and stared blankly at the cover, as if by holding it she could be transported back into the world where William was still living. Suddenly she needed to talk to someone. Buffy reached for her phone and dialled Willow’s number. ----- “Here.” Willow handed Buffy a glass of water. “Do you need me to phone someone? Your midwife?” Buffy shook her head. “I’m not in labour, Will.” She took a gulp of water and Willow sat down on the sofa next to her. “You sounded pretty upset on the phone. What’s wrong?” “I just …” Buffy closed her eyes as tears pricked at them. “It hurts.” “You mean something’s wrong?” Willow’s voice rose in tone as she started to panic, and Buffy shook her head again quickly. “Not like that.” “Well, like what then?” Buffy let out a sob, as tears streamed down her cheeks. Willow leapt up, grabbed a box of Kleenex and started wiping her cheeks for her. “Y-you know you’re my best friend in the whole world, right?” Buffy said thickly. “You’re pregnant,” Willow said in response. “I know that.” “Your hormones are making you emotional. It’s natural.” Buffy shook her head again. “Not hormones. Well, maybe a bit of hormones. But they’re only m-making it worse.” “Making what worse?” Willow asked in a gentle tone. “I miss him,” Buffy managed to get out before dissolving into tears completely. Willow wrapped her arms around her and rocked her like Joyce did. “The baby’s dad?” she clarified when Buffy was slightly calmer. Buffy nodded, and said, “He’s dead.” “Oh, Buffy,” Willow whispered. “I’m so sorry.” Somehow saying it aloud helped calm Buffy more. “Did you love him?” Willow asked. Buffy nodded. “What was his name?” “William,” Buffy whispered. “His name was William.” ----- Buffy had cried herself out and now she was lying asleep across Willow’s lap. Willow just sat still, not wanting to move in case she disturbed her friend. Silent tears were trickling down Willow’s face, as she dwelled on how much pain Buffy still endured each day. It was a relief that she had finally shared some of it, but Willow couldn’t help but wonder what else was still to come that her friend kept bottled up inside. Poor Buffy. She couldn’t imagine what she must be going through, having lost the one she loved, especially now she was having a baby. Had the father even known? Did Buffy carry around with her the guilt of not having told him before it was too late? Maybe he had known and had reacted badly? Or perhaps he had been thrilled at the thought of being a father, just not had the chance to be one. There were so many potential scenarios, each as hard on Buffy as the other, and Willow wished she knew what had happened so she could help Buffy more. All she could be was a shoulder – or lap – to cry on. Buffy had spoken to her in confidence, so when Giles and Joyce returned home in a deliriously happy mood to find Buffy asleep after a crying fit, she did not tell them the content of their conversation. If Buffy was ready, she would tell them herself when she woke. Giles began carrying Buffy up to bed and Willow opened the front door to go home, but a cry from the staircase stopped her in her tracks. ----- Giles was searching Buffy’s bedroom for her bag packed ready for the hospital. It took him several minutes, as she had left a jumper on top of it and he hadn’t seen it at first. “Ah-hah!” As he swung the bag onto his shoulder on his way out of the room, he spotted one of his books on her bed. It was lying open, and he glanced down to see what Buffy had been reading. Living dreams. Giles blinked, remembered what he was supposed to be doing, and left the room hurriedly with Buffy’s bag. ----- Twenty-four hours later, Buffy was sleeping in her hospital bed with a baby girl in her arms. Joyce gently picked her up and kissed her exhausted daughter on the forehead. “Isn’t she beautiful, Rupert,” she murmured. He nodded, awestruck. The baby reached up to its grandmother and he chuckled. “I think she’s trying to get your necklace, Joyce.” Buffy stirred and opened her eyes. “Sorry, honey,” Joyce whispered. “Did we wake you?” Buffy shook her head and sat up. “Hey, little one,” she said, gently stroking the baby’s almost-bald head. “Here you are, Mommy,” Joyce said, placing the baby back into Buffy’s arms. “Where did I put that camera?” Giles handed it to her and she took a snap of the two of them, mother and baby staring at each other in curiosity and love. “She doesn’t look a lot like you,” Joyce commented as she sat back down by the bed. Buffy shook her head, tears starting to prick at the corners of her eyes. “No. She takes after her daddy.” ----- Her mother had gone to find a coffee machine, and Buffy and the baby were alone with Giles. Silence had stretched for a moment before he spoke. “Buffy, why are you reading about living dreams?” She looked up, startled. “How did you know?” “I saw my book on your bed. It seemed an odd bedtime reading choice for a mother to be. Especially you.” Buffy hesitated. “Buffy?” he said, in a softer tone now. “If there’s something you want to tell me …” She swallowed, and finally decided to tell the truth. “It’s how I met the baby’s father,” she whispered. Giles stared at her and she continued. “I didn’t know it was real. I thought I was just dreaming. H-he was a guy in the 1800s and he was sweet and I just wanted it to be something private. But then -” “You got pregnant,” Giles supplied. Buffy shook her head. “No. Then he turned up here and now as a vampire.” Long silence. “Oh.” “I wanted to make the most of the time we had together in case I couldn’t save him, which was what I wanted. But after we – you know – I couldn’t get back. I was stuck with Spike.” “Wait – Spike’s the one?” Giles gasped. “Oh, Buffy. Why didn’t you just come to me?” Buffy started sobbing and the baby stirred. “Do you have any idea what it’s like?” Buffy whispered, trying not to wake her daughter up properly. “I was scared and, yes, maybe I wasn’t thinking clearly.” “Here, let me take her a moment.” Giles lifted the baby out of Buffy’s hands so she could wipe her eyes. “You should have talked to someone, Buffy, instead of going through it all alone. That’s what your family and friends are here for.” With his spare hand he gently brushed a stray tear off her cheek. “We love you. We should have been there for you.” “I know.” Buffy closed her eyes. “I screwed everything up.” “Hush, don’t talk like that.” Giles’ voice was soft but firm. “You made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes.” He lowered his arms and Buffy took her daughter back. “He kept bugging me,” Buffy murmured. “Saying about how he still cared about me and I wasn’t giving him a chance.” Giles’ eyebrows rose. “I want to believe him, Giles, I really do, and I think part of me does anyway – but I can’t take that risk! Especially not with a baby; if it all turned out to be a trick I’d have signed her death sentence as well as my own.” Giles sighed. “I wish I knew what to tell you, Buffy.” “Tell me if vampires can love without a soul.” “I don’t know.” Giles thought. “I’ve never met one who I know could – but, as a theory, I suppose I have heard of more implausible ones that turned out to be true. I couldn’t say, Buffy.” “Suppose it doesn’t really matter now. I already kicked him out of town.” The baby was awake now, her big blue eyes gazing around at the world. “She looks so much like him,” Buffy murmured. Giles put a hand on her shoulder and she smiled sadly, grateful for the touch of comfort. “You know, I think she looks a bit like his mom as well. She was a lovely woman.” She paused. “Wonder what happened to her.” “What was her name?” Giles asked. “Anne.” A thought struck Buffy, and she stared as her daughter’s mouth curled in her first smile. “Giles, look!” “She’s smiling,” he said, a huge grin on his own face. “I think she likes it.” Buffy glanced up at Giles. “Anne Summers?” TBC …

Chapter #8 - Bringing Them Together

Chapter Eight: Bringing Them Together Motherhood, Buffy quickly discovered, was even more difficult than she had imagined. One good thing about the effort it took was that she barely had time or energy anymore to dwell on the past. All her waking hours were spent caring for her daughter. Anne was five weeks old, and in the process of being fussed over by her grandmother while Buffy caught up on some sleep, when the telephone rang. Giles answered it. “Hello?” “Giles? It’s Willow.” “What is it?” he asked, withdrawing into the kitchen and pulling the door almost shut. “We’ve got Spike.” For a moment, Giles thought he had misheard. “Pardon?” “He’s in the cage in the library. Oz found him passed out in a ditch, didn’t know who he was, and offered to help him home. Then Spike told him his name, and Oz clonked him on the head and brought him here. We didn’t want to try and stake him without Buffy, even if he is knocked out.” Giles closed his eyes and bit his lip. “You need Buffy.” “Yeah. I know she’s, you know, on maternity leave, but Spike’s kind of a special case.” She had no idea how much of one. Giles hesitated. There was no way Buffy could stake Spike, and there was no way he was going to make her. But he didn’t know how to deal with Spike himself. “He’s definitely secure?” “Yeah, but he can’t stay here too long or Snyder will ask questions.” “Willow, just leave him there for the time being, all right? Someone watch him and have the tranquiliser gun at the ready just in case.” “Wouldn’t a stake be better?” “Willow.” “Okay. See you.” He was reluctant to tell Buffy the truth, but what other option did he have? The thought of staking Spike himself and just letting Buffy think he was still alive somewhere out of town did occur to him, but he didn’t want to be dishonest. She deserved to know what was going on. ----- “Buffy?” She put a finger to her lips and whispered, “One second.” Giles hovered in the doorway as Buffy finished tucking Anne into her cradle and turned out the light before leaving the room. “What is it?” she whispered, closing the bedroom door behind her. “I have something to tell you.” He sounded serious. “It concerns Spike.” Buffy froze. “Wh-what about him?” “He’s back in town. Willow and the others have him locked in the library.” She slid slowly down the wall, shocked. Giles let her have a moment to take it in. “I thought you ought to know.” Buffy buried her head in her hands. “What does he want?” “Sorry?” “He’s got to be back for a reason,” Buffy said, muffled slightly by her hands. “I told him to go and I thought he agreed. If he’s back … Maybe I should talk to him.” Giles frowned. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Buffy.” “I may be in love with him, Giles, but I’m not a complete idiot. I’m not going to let him out of the cage. No matter how much he tries to sweet-talk me.” ----- “Are you sure about this?” Giles pressed as they drew up outside the school. “Are you going to stop asking me that?” Buffy said. “I can do this. I need to know why he’s back.” She paused and gazed out the window. “I’ll stake him if I have to.” She’d brought a stake along with her. She had not held one in a while, and it felt strange. It would feel even stranger if she had to use it on Spike. She shivered and followed Giles to the library. “Hey, Buffy, you’re here!” Willow jumped up as they entered. Xander and Angel were also there, and Buffy didn’t envy Willow at that point. She didn’t dwell on it; instead, she looked around at the cage just as a voice said, “Lizzie?” A lump arose in her throat and she forced it back down as everyone else looked confused. “Guys,” she addressed them, “could you leave us alone?” “Are you going to be okay?” Willow started to ask, but Giles interrupted. “Willow, it’s all right. Come on. You too,” he directed at the guys. “Buffy?” She looked round. He gave her one of his Looks. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret.” “You mean like kill him?” Buffy laughed slightly. “Don’t worry, I know what you mean.” Spike had been sitting in a corner of the cage but as the others left, he crawled over to the door and placed his hands on the wire. “Lizzie?” He sounded so pathetic. Nothing like the tough vampire now. Buffy drew nearer and took a good look at him. His hair was a mess, curling again, and the roots had started to grow out. His clothes were ripped and there were scratches all over him. Buffy slowly knelt down in front of the cage. She had meant to demand why he was back in her town. What came out instead was, “What happened to you?” For a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer. When he looked her in the eye, she saw something different. First, he seemed half out of it. Second, he was pleading. “I got what you wanted,” he babbled. “I’m a – a man now, right? Right? What you wanted.” “I don’t understand.” “To be with you,” he whispered. “The missing piece. The spark – not just flesh now.” He placed a hand on his chest. “It hurts. It hurts. But – what you want. Please?” He stretched his hand out, as if trying to reach through the cage to her. “Worth it – for you.” Suddenly it clicked. “Your soul,” Buffy said breathlessly. “Bit worse for lack of use.” “You got your soul back. How?” “It’s what you wanted, right?” Spike whispered. Buffy didn’t know what to think or feel as he continued to babble, part of the time seeming to talk more to himself. Spike with a soul. He did that – put himself through the pain of feeling human guilt – for her? He had tried to convince her, she realised. Tried to persuade her that he really did love her and that it hadn’t been a trick. And now – now she could no longer deny it. “Oh, Spike,” she whispered. “What have you done?” He grinned up at her almost insanely. “Spike do good?” Buffy stood and raised the stake. Despite the wire between them, Spike flinched, but instead of using it on him, Buffy plunged it into the lock. The door slowly swung open. “Yes,” she said. “Spike do very good.” For a moment he didn’t move, and then it seemed to dawn on him that she was letting him out. “You’re not afraid?” Buffy pulled him to his feet and threw her arms around him, clutching him close. “No.” His arms tightened around her. For a few blissful minutes, it was just the two of them and time seemed to stand still. But before long it was broken with a “Hey!” They broke apart. Xander had re-entered the library and was staring at them with his mouth hanging open. “Giles sent me in to make sure you were okay, Buffy. What the hell are you doing? You let him out?” “Xander, do me a favour and tell Giles the circumstances have changed.” Buffy took Spike’s hand and led him like an obedient child towards the exit. “He’ll explain the rest.” “Where do you think you’re going with him?” Buffy looked back at her love. “There’s something he needs to see.” ----- “What is it you want to show me?” Spike asked as he and Buffy drew near her house. “You’ll see in a minute.” Buffy unlocked the door and entered. Spike cleared his throat. “Sorry – come in, Spike.” “Thank you.” He stepped inside just as Joyce came out of the kitchen. “Oh, good, you’re back – oh.” She blinked at the sight of Spike. “Buffy, it’s very late. Is everything all right?” Buffy smiled at her mother. “Everything’s fine. How is she?” “She was asleep last I checked.” Joyce was still eyeing Spike. “Buffy …” “Mom, can you give us a few minutes?” Buffy said. Joyce looked between the two of them, and the penny seemed to finally drop. “Oh. Oh. Is he -” “Mom.” “Of course,” Joyce said. “I’ll just … be in here. Take your time.” Buffy motioned for Spike to follow her upstairs, and he did so. His eyes widened as they entered Buffy’s bedroom, and she bent over the cradle. For a moment, she thought Anne was asleep, but her eyes opened and looked up at her mother. “You’re meant to be asleep, little one,” Buffy murmured. Anne gave a small smile. “Come here, you naughty girl.” Buffy reached in and picked her up. “Look who’s here.” Spike was standing frozen with his mouth hanging open. As Buffy turned towards him with Anne in her arms, he croaked, “Is that-?” “Yes.” Buffy adjusted Anne so she could see Spike. “You see him there? You know who that is, baby?” She gurgled. “That’s right. He’s your daddy.” “Daddy,” Spike whispered, awe-struck. “Do you want to hold her?” “How?” “Like this.” Buffy transferred Anne over to his arms, making sure he was holding her right. “That’s it.” “I can’t believe it,” Spike said, gazing down at her in wonder. A tiny hand grasped his t-shirt and her eyes closed. “She’s really mine?” “Ours,” Buffy corrected softly. “Wow.” He laid a light kiss on her forehead. “She’s so little. Look at her tiny fingernails!” “I know.” Buffy leaned on Spike, watching him with Anne. “What’s her name?” he asked suddenly. “Anne.” Spike looked up at her, and she nodded. “Yeah, after your mom.” “She would have loved that.” He grinned. “She always wanted grandchildren. Hope she knows her wish came true.” Buffy kissed him on the cheek, kissed Anne in the same way he had, and gently took her from him to put her back to bed. “I’m sure she knows,” she said to Spike as they watched their daughter sleep. ----- Somewhere Up High Three of the Powers That Be looked down upon the scene, and Cupid reluctantly handed a gold medallion over to a smiling Aletta. “All right. You did it. Congratulations.” Vesta, who had just arrived, asked, “What was the bet?” “I said that I could do Cupid’s job for him,” Aletta replied, not tearing her eyes away from the scene. “Matching a vampire and a human – especially the Slayer – is not part of his job,” Vesta said sternly. “There is a reason why it is called forbidden love.” “I told her that,” Cupid defended. “Look at them,” Aletta said in barely more than a whisper. “They are perfect for each other. Cupid said it would never happen in a million years, so I said I could bend the circumstances to fit.” “By giving the Slayer living dreams?” Vesta said with raised eyebrows. “It worked, did it not?” “And they have a child.” Vesta was studying Aletta closely. She just smiled at her. “I didn’t see that one coming. But I don’t regret it.” There was a long silence, all three Powers gazing down at the sleeping infant and her parents. Eventually, Vesta broke it. “Cupid, shouldn’t you be getting back to work?” He pulled a face. “I want to watch for a bit longer.” “I want to talk to Aletta alone.” “Fine,” he grumbled. “See you ladies later.” He vanished in a puff of pink smoke. “Aletta?” Vesta asked, hesitantly touching her on the shoulder. “Are you all right?” She nodded in response, although a tear slipped out unchecked. “Yes.” “Are you sure?” “William’s happiness,” she whispered, “is more important to me than any medallion.” “Anne -” Vesta tried, using her Earth name. “Don’t.” Aletta paused. “I think I finally know now why I’m here.” Vesta nodded. “I will leave you alone.” “Thank you.” Below, Spike and Buffy were drifting off to sleep, in each other’s arms on the bed beside little Anne Elizabeth’s cradle. Aletta cried silently, but mainly they were tears of joy. “Take good care of my son and grand-daughter, Buffy Summers.” The End A dream is a wish your heart makes When you're fast asleep In dreams you will lose your heartaches Whatever you wish for, you keep … No matter how your heart is grieving If you keep on believing The dream that you wish will come true - Cinderella Author’s note: I don’t plan on doing a sequel to this, but if I ever get the itch to explore what happened to them next, it’s likely to just be a drabble or one-shot. I do have a couple of things I ended up missing out of the fic in the end, and couldn’t fit in after I had written it out, so if I don’t use it in a sequel I’ll probably post it as bonus content on my Yahoo group (homepage in my profile).