Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and those folks. Thanks once more to Sanity Fair for providing all the beta work on this story. Thank you to all the readers whose encouraging reviews spurred me on. Hope you enjoy how it turns out.

**************************************

Chapter 25 – Days in a Life

**************************************
 
The walk back to the boarding house was over much too soon for either of their tastes although it took nearly an hour. Buffy told her story about how she had recently arrived from America, an orphan of good stock fallen on hard times. She hated to lie to him, but at the same time, she worried about freaking him out. The feel of his arm under her fingers was different than before. He was warm, for one thing, and not as completely ripped as Spike had been in her time. But those eyes and cheekbones were the same, and the refined accent still had that marvelous baritone that just melted her insides. She wanted nothing more than to knock him to the ground and jump him right there and then, but she counseled herself to patience.
 
William on his part was still waiting to wake up from what had to be another dream. There was no way he could have gone from being dejected and rejected in an alley to having the very woman he had dreamed of all these years on his arm. Her accent and manner of speech were strange at times, but she was a picture, this Elizabeth Summers, and her conversation was unaffected and straightforward. After a night of insults and putdowns, it was quite a revelation to be with a beautiful woman who actually seemed to want to talk to him, who acted as if she couldn’t get enough of his company.
 
When at last they reached her boarding house, Buffy turned to face him. “Thank you so much for helping me. I would have been wandering the streets forever.”
 
“You are quite welcome, Miss Summers.” He looked down for a moment, as if trying to decide something, then screwed up his courage and straightened up. “I would… I would like to see you again, if I may.” His blue eyes held a sort of desperate hope.
 
Buffy’s heart pounded in her chest. “I would really, really like that.”
 
“May I call for you tomorrow, at tea time perhaps?”
 
“That would be wonderful. The matron here is rather strict about male visitors, but I will meet you out here, if that’s all right.”
 
William all but breathed a sigh of relief. “That would do very well,” he said. On impulse he took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Until tomorrow, Miss Summers.” Then they both made their way home, floating on a cloud of wonder and anticipation.
 
*****************************
 
Their relationship progressed steadily, and both of them felt the need to pinch themselves regularly to ensure that this was not in fact a dream. They took long walks together, talking for long hours, taking tea in cafés, and the rare days that they could not meet seemed interminable. After a few weeks William explained to his curious mother that he had met someone. He was vague about how, explaining instead that she was a distant American relation of a friend of a friend. He was not entirely certain that his mother believed him, but she did not seem to object. She had noticed the change in her son’s manner since he had met Elizabeth, and although she didn’t at first know why she was pleased to see him looking so happy all the time. Her illness was a constant source of worry to him, and she was often concerned that he was working too hard to please her and support her. Seeing him so obviously smitten with this girl did her heart good. When William finally brought Miss Summers home to meet her, Anne Pratt was impressed with the girl’s pleasant, intelligent manner. True, she was a bit of a mystery, and sometimes seemed queerly ignorant of certain things, but she clearly adored William and looked at him as if she would never tire of the sight. Soon it seemed that Miss Summers was calling nearly every day for a visit. Anne found she liked the companionship. On her part, Buffy enjoyed having a mother figure to talk to, as it helped ease the remembered loss of her own family.
 
On one beautiful summer day William took her rowing. She laughed under a borrowed parasol as William headed out to a small island in a country lake. The sky was a beautiful clear blue, and when they lighted on the shore they found a wooded grove that was cool and shaded. They found a rock on a little promontory and sat there, taking in the view, holding hands in contented silence. Finally after several sideways glances and a few nervous throat clearings William spoke. “Elizabeth?” Buffy turned to him, her eyes curious at the tone of his voice. “I… well you know that I…”
 
Buffy reached out and took his hands in hers. “You never have to be nervous around me, you know that.”
 
“Just because I know that doesn’t mean that I’m not,” William replied with a little bit of a smirk. “But I will endeavor to be brave.” He took a deep breath and fixed her eyes with his. “I love you, Elizabeth Summers. You would make me the happiest man on Earth if you would agree to be my wife.”
 
“I love you too, William.” She leaned over and kissed him gently. His eyebrows shot up momentarily, and then he closed his eyes and reveled in the kiss, bold and unexpected but wonderfully sweet.
 
“So does that mean…” William asked with rising excitement. Buffy bit her lip and hesitated for a moment. William’s chest felt tight, and he babbled, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to presume, I only thought…”
 
Buffy kissed him once more to quiet his nervous rambling. She looked down and addressed her remarks to their linked hands. “Before I say yes, I want to tell you something.”
 
It was William’s turn to hesitate. “What is it?” He wondered what this pronouncement could be that clearly worried her so much.
 
Still avoiding his eyes and studying his long, graceful fingers she said, “I haven’t told you my entire story. I want to tell you, because I always want to be honest with you. I don’t want to build our life on a lie. But I am afraid that by telling you the truth I’m going to frighten you away. The truth is… the truth sounds insane.”
 
“Elizabeth.” His voice was deep and sincere, and she looked up to see him focused completely on her, studying every inch of her face. “I cannot imagine anything you would tell me that would destroy my love for you.”
 
“I hope that is true. But I don’t think anyone could imagine what I’m going to tell you.”
 
“Why not let me be the judge?”
 
Making her decision, Buffy took a deep breath. No more secrets. “It is true that I was born in America, in California, to Joyce and Hank Summers. But my name is really Buffy, and I was born, rather I will be born, in the year 1981.”
 
“I beg your pardon?” Of all the things that William expected to hear her say, this was definitely not on the list.
 
“You wondered why you felt like you knew me? Why we seemed to be destined to be together? Part of it is because I have known you before. In a way, I was your wife already.”
 
William shook his head in confusion. “I don’t… I don’t understand. What are you saying?”
 
“Just listen, all right. This is a bit of a long story.” As the sun worked its way across the sky Buffy talked and talked, while William listened with wonder in his eyes. She told the story of her life as Buffy the Vampire Slayer, her calling, and their meeting. He looked slightly horrified as she described his career as Spike, the Slayer of Slayers. Other than the occasional clarification he listened in rapt silence as she talked herself hoarse, finally explaining how she had come to find him in his time. “When you found me in the alley, I was almost ready to give up hope of ever finding you. I have all I want, right here.” She squeezed his hands for emphasis. “But I don’t want to have to pretend. I want you to know the whole story before you take me as your wife. And… “ Her voice broke a little, but she spit out the rest of the words. “And if you feel you can’t marry me, after hearing all this, I won’t… I’ll still love you. I’ll always love you.” She looked up into his eyes, waiting for his reaction.
 
Dumbfounded, he released her hands and stood up. He walked to the edge of the hill and stood with his back to her looking out over the lake, his arms wrapped around himself as he tried to make sense of all he had heard. Buffy watched him, trying to be patient as her stomach clenched in trepidation. She had to tell him. She knew that she couldn’t live a lie, not with him, not with this man that she loved every bit as much as she had loved Spike. There were differences, to be sure. The speech, and the mannerisms were slightly different. But his habit of telling the truth, his dry humor, and his love for her were the same. Please. Please don’t leave me. He stood there for a long time, seeking something within himself, wrestling with the notion of vampires and mystical deaths and traveling through time. Finally, Buffy couldn’t stand it anymore. “Please, say something. Anything,” she begged, fighting tears.
 
When he spoke, it was Buffy’s turn to be stunned by what he said. “You came for me.” He turned to look at her with eyes both humbled and full of awe. “You left all you knew, everyone you loved, to come here to find me.”
 
“Yes, it’s true. I wasn’t… whole without you.”
 
“Why?” He was utterly bewildered by this amazing, strong, beautiful woman and the fact that she would travel through time and space for him, William Pratt, the useless poet son of a banker. “If what you say is true I should have been your enemy. Why come for me? I hardly think I am worth it.”
 
Buffy stood up and came over to him, putting her hands to his face and stroking his cheeks. “I love you. You sacrificed yourself for me again and again. You kept faith in me when even my family abandoned me. You died to save me and the world. We shared a bond like no two creatures ever had. It’s like we merged our souls somehow. No one in the world has ever done all that for me. How could I not come for you?”
 
William closed his eyes and leaned into her touch for a moment. Then he brought his hands up to her face, tracing her features tenderly. “I don’t know what I did to deserve your love,” he whispered. “And to find that one has lived an entire other life, full of fantastic things – it is difficult to conceive. But I tell you this: No man in all of England has a woman like you. A brave, strong woman, who would risk everything for him. And if you will have me, I would be quite honored to call you my wife.”
 
“Yes. Oh William, yes,” she cried, and they fell into a kiss that felt as if it would never end.
 
**************************************
 
They married on a splendid autumn day. The wedding was a small one, with only the matron of the boarding house as a guest of the bride. Buffy walked herself down the aisle, having no father to give her away, to where William stood, resplendent in a dove gray suit. Mrs. Pratt and a smattering of friends and cousins made up the rest of the party. As they walked from the church the bells rang out, and all the assembled guests remarked at how happy both bride and groom looked. In a world where love matches were rare and marriage was more of a business arrangement between families, their obvious devotion to each other was fresh and charming.
 
After the last guest had left they retired to the third floor of the Pratt household, which had been freshly repainted and arranged for the sole use of the newlyweds. William swept her into his arms and carried her gallantly up the stairs to their new bedroom where he kissed her breathless once again.
 
“Shall I call Rose to help you out of your gown?” William asked, moving to summon the maid.
 
Buffy stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I believe I have all the help I need here, Mr. Pratt.” They had been very proper, as expected, before their marriage, but Buffy found herself wanting him so badly that it was almost painful. She pulled him down into another kiss and guided his hands to her waist. He wrapped his hands around her slim hips before his hands drifted upward, feeling around and trying to figure out the hooks on the back of her wedding gown. Finally she laughed and broke away, spinning around. “Here, start at the top.”
 
“Good Lord,” he exclaimed. “How the devil did you get into this?” She giggled, but he persevered and soon was able to slide the dress from her shoulders with shaking hands. “Oh my darling,” he murmured, touching her bare shoulders for the first time. His dreams were nothing even remotely close to the reality of her warm soft skin.
 
Stepping neatly out of the dress she picked it up and draped it over a chair, coming to stand before him in her corset and underskirt. She helped him to doff his gray suit coat, which soon joined her gown, followed by his cravat and vest. Their desire grew as she got him out of his shirt and sighed with pleasure at the feel of his skin. It was unusual for his body to feel warm but otherwise it was pale and very much as she remembered. With fumbling fingers he unlaced her corset and bent his head to nuzzle her breasts. “Oh God. You’re so beautiful.”
 
“Come to bed, William.” She took his hand and led him to the bed. Slowly she stripped off the rest of her clothes as he watched, panting with desire. She slid beneath the covers and he followed suit, divesting himself quickly of the rest of his garments and sliding in beside her. “Hold me close, darling.”
 
William did not need to be asked twice. He pulled her to him and groaned at the feeling of her body touching his. They kissed and stroked until they were ready to burst. In a moment of shyness he whispered, “I’ve not done this before. I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”
 
“You won’t,” she reassured him with a smile. She took him in hand and guided him, and he entered her depths with a groan. “Oh yes. Oh God.” It was perfect, just as she remembered. All the months of searching and courting and waiting melted away and she was here, with her mate again.
 
Instinct took over and William moved inside her, babbling with pleasure. “So warm, my love. I’ve never… oh God. Love you. Love you, Buffy.”
 
Her eyes flew open and her face glowed with pleasure. Her true name was a lovers’ secret between them, and it came out in that same reverent tone that Spike had always used. “I love you, William. It feels so good. Please don’t stop.”
 
“Call me by my other name,” he murmured into her neck. “Let me live those dreams.”
 
“Spike,” she whispered. “Take me Spike. Yes!” She convulsed in an orgasm as he drove deep into her. I’m home. This is home. He’s William and he’s Spike and he’s mine, and we’re together. She cried aloud as the waves of ecstasy built and crested and built again.
 
William’s orgasm built until he too could stand no more. “Buffy!” Their eyes locked as they went over the edge together, but instead of fading the sensations grew stronger and stronger, and something locked between them. Mine, you’re mine. The same thought echoed in both their brains, and suddenly William found his mind expanding. He remembered. He remembered the old timeline, and the new, and Drusilla and Angel and Buffy and the First and dying and returning and this was his mate. They flew on and on together until at last they came down, panting and gasping.
 
When they came to their senses, William looked into her green eyes with amazement. “That was…” His poet’s tongue was for once lost for words.
 
“Yes, it was,” Buffy agreed. Are you with me again? she asked silently, sending her thoughts out, seeking his.
 
Yes my love. William’s blue eyes widened at the sensation of her thoughts in his head. Was it as you remembered? he asked, searching her face for her reaction.
 
No. It was even better. I love you, Spike.
 
Oh Buffy. And they pulled the blankets higher and shut out the world.
 
**********************************
 
“In sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commit the body of Elizabeth to the ground…”
 
Anne hardly heard the minister’s words as she stood close by her husband, one hand holding the hand of her youngest son. It was so hard to believe that her mother was finally gone. Her father had been dead for five years, but until this last illness it had seemed her mother would go on forever. She had always been strong – small and delicate looking, but fierce and steely underneath. Anne looked across the grave to her brother William. Although he was doing his best stiff upper lip, as befitted a man of his station, she could see the tears welling in his eyes as well. Neither of them had ever wanted for love or affection. Their parents had worked hard to give them opportunities, insisting that Anne get every bit as much education as her brother, unusual as that was in their circles. They had both married for love, with their parents’ blessing, and the succession of grandchildren had been greeted with joy. Their love for each other was even more all-consuming than their love of their progeny. Anne had never known a couple more completely besotted with each other, even after so many years together. The world seemed emptier with them gone.
 
The minister finally finished, and with the last “Amen” the gathered friends and family began to take their leave. Anne received their sympathetic murmurings and embraces with as much control as she could muster, but her handkerchief was soaking by the time the last of them left. She stood beside her husband and her children with her brother and his family, and they all stared at the stones before them.
 
                                                          William Pratt
                                                           1852-1925
                                                      Elizabeth, his wife
                                                           1860-1930
                                                        Beloved of God
 
“Mama?”
 
Anne shook herself as a little hand tugged on hers. Henry, the youngest of her five children was only four, an unexpected late addition to their brood and the apple of her eye. He had his grandfather’s bright blue eyes, and he looked up at her with a furrowed brow. “What is it, dear?”
 
“Are Grandmother and Grandfather together again now?” he asked in his piping little voice. Although he had never met his grandfather, he had listened attentively to all of Grandmother’s stories and had looked intently on the pictures of the man whose middle name had become his.
 
Despite her grief, Anne smiled, and pulled her little son close. “You know, Henry. I think they are. And I think they’re probably very, very happy.” Somewhere in the depths of her heart, Anne felt absolutely certain that this was true.
 
The End