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A Wish Your Heart Makes by Alexannah
 
Enter the Vampire
 
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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 …
 
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