Title: Shadows of the past
Author: Kur
Disclaimer: nothing is mine. Only the plot.
Rating: ???
Pairing: Buffy & Spike
Spoilers: Season 2
Summary: Buffy gets more than transformed by the costume in S2's Halloween and discovers the reason she couldn't ever beat Spike.
Thanks: to Melissa, my wonderful, extraordinary beta. She’s the best!!!

CHAPTER 3

“I told you to wait! I told you I have something important to tell you!” – Willow paced across Giles’ living room twisting her fingers as if they were made of rubber. “He escaped and now… are you sure he escaped? Maybe he was hidden under a box, or dressed up as, don’t know, E.T. Okay, okay, just asking…”

She fell on the sofa covering her exposed legs with the white sheet. She wished she could covered herself entirely but there was no time to get all blushy and embarrassed when Buffy was lost and no one would probably be paying any attention to her too far exposed body anyway.

“What are we going to do?” – Angel demanded looking at Giles from a corner. “We don’t know where she is. Or how she is. There are tons of hellish dimensions out there, you know?”

Giles rubbed his eyes, sighing deeply in order to remain calm. “Obviously, it was a work of magic. And, you know it, - he stared at the vampire just to stop him from talking, - a spell requires another spell. So, if we manage to open a door…”

“How? Where? Show me a wizard here. A witch; somebody!” Angel yelled throwing his arms in the air as though he had seen some wizard flying near the ceiling for him to catch.
Willow coughed softly. “Well… as a matter of fact…”

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She felt like a balloon. She was sure not even the mad hatter himself had ever had so much tea in one single breakfast.

The polite lady had excused herself and Buffy was left alone in the gleaming room. The rhythmical tick-tock of the clock was the only thing that stayed with her. William had come back with The Times rolled under one armpit as if he was carrying a paper weapon and had dismissed her apologies with a quick nod. The clock struck eleven sharp bells.

“You should go to rest now. Or perhaps you want to stay here and read something?” - he had said, his eyes fixed above a point over her right shoulder, maybe the fawn double curtains or the opened wooden shutters. “I have certain things to do and my mother spends the afternoon resting. She is very ill” - he had added in a sorrowful whisper. She had wanted to hug him. Again.

So now she was standing by the window in HIS room, looking at the row of houses in the opposite block, at the suited men with ivory-handled dark sticks and prominent bellies, at the women dressed in long outfits with strange little hats that looked like Christmas ornaments, at one kid pushing a hook. They were moving figures in a painting. Moving silhouettes in an old sepia movie.
Buffy unfastened the row of hook and eyes of the mantle and sat cross-legged on the bed, the nightdress rolled up to her thighs. Weird. They had undressed her and they’d never noticed the lack of underwear. At least not the current fashion underwear. They had undressed me…

A sudden flash of heat climbed to her cheeks. His hands were big; his fingers were long and delicate as if he had spent all his life only playing that piano. An artist. Buffy’s fingers traced one of her thighs briefly. Goosebumps on her skin. Forbidden images behind her shut eyelids. She knew his mother had been the one in charge of the undressing thing. Yet, there was something in her heart that jumped crazily at the possibility… “He’s a gentleman! I wish… I wish he weren’t…” She shook her head astounded by the strange longing.

“I wonder why they hadn’t said anything…” But they hadn’t said anything about any of the odd things she represented. Her lack of memory, her sudden appearance from nowhere, in a middle of a street… A presumed lady. Dressed up in a smart silk dress and borrowed accent. Alone and helpless. “I don’t want to hurt them, really, but I need to go. I have to plan something. See if I can get a way out. Everybody must be so worried about me. Probably they think Spike had killed me and dumped me among the trash. Angel… How stupid of me!”



The cardboards shook uneasy before revealing a pale angry face. “Bloody Slayer! Wait till I put my hands on you! I’ll…Oh, my, there’s a tap dancer in my head. Shit! Soddin’ box! Get out of… Ouch! Can’t believe it! The sun is out there! I spent the whole night…”
A sudden sickened wave made his entire body shivered and he lay down again. “Wait till the sun is gone… Dru must be worried… What was that bloke made of? Iron?”


Buffy woke in time to see the door opening. She bounced on the mattress grabbing the mauve mantle, covering her body with it. There was a fire squeaking on the iron fireplace and the whole room was wrapped in a golden warm light. Buffy frowned at the pile of silk hanging from the lady’s arm. Not other of those gowns, please. Next portal will probably send my ass to Venus.

But no matter how she plead, refused or argued, after fifteen minutes in which she had to clean herself with a cloth and the rose-water that the lady had poured in a lovely porcelain basin, she was made to face one of the wooden posters of the bed. The woman had found some sort of torturing device to make her shut up for good. The corset was strangling her midriff better than a demon grip.

“They are not that old – she apologized and Buffy couldn’t but smile at her among hot tears and deep gasps – the dresses I mean. Only a couple of years…”

“They are gorgeous, really, - her green eyes waved along streams of colourful silk – but I don’t want your son to be upset or angry and…”

“He has accepted it’s a good idea. Besides, my dear, wait till he sees you in one of these! He’ll be so proud of having such a beauty as you as his partner… So, which one do you prefer?”

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“Okay. So we open a new portal and hopefully it will be opened at the same dimension in which she is. But… will SHE be there?” Giles sipped from his glass of whisky, ignoring the first pulsating signs of a next massive headache.

“Meaning?” Willow’s eyes raised from the book in which she had sunk herself for the last three hours.

“Meaning that she might have moved. Don’t know, run from some monsters, demons, or whatever might attack her.”

“Run away? She never runs away.” Willow frowned confused.

Xander sucked the last threads of raspberry jelly from his thumb before jumping into the talk, in spite of Giles’s previous warning. “Well, maybe there were too many. Besides, she doesn’t remember anything…so there’s the possibility of the running away thing.”

“Oh, oh, an idea! – Willow leapt from the green sofa as if it had pinched her butt- “Big idea forming here! The door can find her. What? Some kind of moving door… It can be done…”

“A moving door…” - Giles sighed begging for the pulsating bud in his temples to recede-
“And where exactly will it open here? Are we going to scan the city the entire night just to find the bloody door? Please…”

“No, no. Moving door there, alley door here.”

Giles briefly scowled at Xander before whispering. “Let’s start then.”

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Fascinated, she swayed in front of the mirror for the fourth time. Well, THAT was a DRESS! The green and the blue silk shone like jewels under the lamp. It had a slim line style that made her look as thin and long as a rose stem. The gown neckline was generous enough to show the beginning of her full breasts pushed up by the corset. And the flounced rippled train, …as those of wedding gowns she admired in her mother’s magazines, sure that she would never be able to wear one in her more than sure short existence. The layers of embroidered petticoats murmured under the skirt as she moved. The proud display of a peacock.

Buffy ran two fingers on the exquisite necklace the lady had fastened around her neck. She was so shocked by its beauty that had rejected the offer immediately. William’s mother dismissed all her words with a smile and a wave of her delicate hand. “It’s not that you aren’t going to bring it back, is it dear?” “No, I won’t – she had wanted to scream- I’m only going with him far enough to find some sort of thing from where I can jump back home.” Of course she had remained mute and now all she could do was getting nearer to the mirror just to admire that little work of art. A necklace with a pendant made of gold. Twenty-five –she counted them- rose cut diamonds, and twelve seed pearls surrounding an emerald, matching the extraordinary pair of earrings hanging from her earlobes. She felt like a princess. A real one. A princess in a fairy-tale that would end in a not so happy way. No prince there for her to be awoken by a kiss. No pumpkins turning into dashing carriages. Neither a wedding nor a castle. Only a portal and back to violence. Back to normal, if she could use that word in the same sentence that had her name in it.

William’s eyes washed all her gloomy thoughts away. Buffy stopped at the bottom of the stairs. She was now a Queen. His eyes had crowned her and for the first time in her life a furious blush covered her cheeks.


Silence wrapped them as soon as they got in the carriage. William was astounded. He couldn’t take his eyes of the ravishing female sitting in front of him, although he was pretty aware that he wasn’t exactly behaving as a gentleman. But the round moulds of her breasts were luring him on. Up and down, up and down as a charming tide. Her beautiful eyes sparkled along with the emeralds. Her neck… he had a sudden flash of his lips tasting it. He averted his dark heavy eyes to the window as a way to ignore the uncomfortable hardness between his legs. Never in his life had he felt such powerful emotions nor had he considered a lady in such low manner. His gaze may be away but his brains remained stuck on her wet and smiling lips. On her hands crossed on her lap. His fingers ached to just reach out and touch them.

If I weren’t in love with Cecily I’d probably fall for this fairy, this Queen Mab who is making me dream of forbidden things. Cecily… I hope she won’t be jealous…

William offered his arm for her to cling of it. All faces turned round stunned at his sight. William? Who is she? How he possibly…? Puzzled gazes shut up sniggers. For a while, at least.


The music was calling him, pulling him. William was looking at her from a corner, stupidly jealous of the circle of men around her. He shouldn’t have been… Cecily would appear at any time. So why? Why did he want to surround her waist with his arms, to get lost in the embrace of the music, to smell her perfume, to press her body against his? Buffy glanced at him over her crystal glass feeling an odd wriggling movement in her stomach. She’d like to kick all those stuck-up asses that were surrounding her. She’d like to shout, too tired of rejecting each and every invitation to join the couples that were dancing in the room. Not that she didn’t want to but…waltz? She doubted she could make a whole round without ripping someone’s foot off. Besides, the mere thought of one of those arms on her waist…

His arm on her waist. He had asked and she hadn’t refused. Never paid attention to the frowns and the irritated murmurs but to the blue soft gaze fixed on her. His eyes, behind the ridiculous glasses were kind and soft and sad. His craggy cheekbones on which the gas lights stopped for an eternity just to enjoy their beauty. His hand was a hot point on her back and God, she felt as never before. Why was that? Would everybody flee in horror if she leant her head on his shoulder? Probably. She didn’t give a damn. He’d have and that prevented her from doing it. Her hand pressed his arm instead, her fingers held to his more intensely. His lips drew a little smile. Full lips. Her green eyes were fixed on that particular spot. Would he taste as morning tea? As sweet as cream? Or as a sour candy, of the kind you enjoy and suffer at the same time? His forearms were strangely strong. As though they could hold her for all the eternity. Buffy inhaled deeply. Her chest was about to explode.

Hands, rude and offensive, pull him away and others arms were now on her waist, other fingers, cold and rough. Dark eyes she wanted to tear off and above everything, the woman sashaying downstairs, William’s face glowing in ecstasy, as she had never existed.
So I was right. He’s in love with that…that… and look at her, strutting about as if she were the owner of Heaven and he is nothing but a stupid jerk.

All of a sudden there was a heavy feeling hanging from the air. A strong sense of loss and tragedy. The twist in her guts was unbelievable. All that night was unbelievable. What was she doing there anyway? Why was she feeling an empty hole in her belly? She couldn’t feel threatened by another woman as he meant something to her… Besides, why on earth was she attracted to someone else who wasn’t Angel? Big mystery. Not the first one. “Makes me feel all manly”. Her mouth and her panties had wetted at the sight. Evil, yes, but undeniable sexy. And why was she thinking of him now? Too many questions and I don’t have a clue to any of them. Yes, oh please. I’m really thirsty. No, I’m sorry. I want to rest for a while and this Scarlet O’Hara act is getting a little boring. Not to mention annoying.
Three glasses of champagne and yet she was sober. Well, quite. And he wasn’t in sight. Why am I all dressed up here if I can’t flaunt myself around appropriately? Listen to me, this Giles’s way of speaking is getting sticky. I should tell him I want to go back to the house. That I feel bad or something and spoil his night for good. Idiot!

Buffy finally spied William’s shape. A few of those pent-up aristocrats good-for-nothing fellows were laughing at something and that I’m Miss Prissy in long gown woman was joining them with a lopsided smile. William stepped back and became almost invisible.

“And that’s actually one of his better compositions” Buffy’s fast approach was refrained by the alcohol in her veins.

“Have you heard? They call him William the Bloody because of his bloody awful poetry!”
Buffy blinked and shook her head. The disgusting woman wasn’t around.
“It suits him. I’d rather have a railroad spike through my head than listen to that awful stuff.” Buffy frowned. They were criticizing William? Bastards.

Bubbles buzzed in her tongue and her temper. “Oh, because listening to you nagging and pestering about somebody’s else skills is a hell of fun, ah? If you ask me I’d shove a bloody spear up your brains myself.”

Five shocked pair of eyes followed her not too steady pace. The curtains would serve for support. Wait, curtains. I’m coming.

“I know I’m a bad poet but I’m a good man and all I ask is that…that you try to see me”
I was seeing you, stupid man and you left me for this… this…

“I do see you. That’s the problem. You’re nothing to me, William. You’re beneath me.”

This bitch! This cruel, mean, fucking bitch! Buffy’s jaws fell to the floor along with her sick stomach. Tears plundered the air in her throat and she couldn’t but take a few steps into the parlour. William’s face was greyish. William’s face was a river of tears. William’s face was a mask of pain and sadness. William…

The bitch almost knocked her down when she left the choking room. Buffy strengthened the grip on the curtains as her head made a quick swirling move.

William was gone. Again. The door in the opposite wall swung as a waving hand.


Buffy ran outside and caught a glimpse of his back as he shambled down the street. The fresh air cleared her mind as she ran after him. Fresh air, fresh thoughts. Clear mind and… She stopped on her tracks as hit by a train. Wasn’t that Angel? Her eyes travelled over his dark figure avidly. How different and…ugly he looked! Long hair definitively didn’t suit him. His eyes seemed to be sink deeply in his face and yet, under the street lamp, they shone with a dark threat. Killing eyes. Murdering eyes. Eyes of a shark. And those women… The blonde one; she knew her. A faded memory but still there. She knew the other one as well. She was in the park with Angel…

“Oh, God, think.” Buffy closed her eyes to summon the memories. They came altogether as a waterfall of dark images. The photograph, Giles speaking, Angel standing in the library, that stupid costume. William the Bloody… have a railroad spike… William… William! Her heart was a wolf howling under the cypresses. The blonde and Angelus, not Angel, not Angel… were leaving and the dark one… She wasn’t anywhere. A dreadful, definitive, appalling sensation clasped her throat as she ran towards the narrow street ahead; her ankles twisting on the cobbled stone pavement. She was floundering; floundering in thick, silky petticoats. She had considered them beautiful. Had torn them to the ground in one minute if she’d have stopped her crazy race. Faster. Faster. A screech. No, it can’t be late! It can’t! He helped me! He saved me!

The dark head was fixed to his neck as a gigantic leech. Like one deformed Siamese head from hell. Buffy took out one of her high heel shoes and hammered Dru’s head with all her ordinary strength. A shrill escape from her grotty mouth as she stepped backwards with squinted yellow eyes.

William’s mouth was full of blood. William’s neck was horribly chomped. William’s body was falling, falling and despite all her training Buffy jumped forward to catch him before he crashed on the hard stones. Disregarding her own safety, she held him, hugged him, cradled him in a futile embrace. She dared to gaze over her shoulder but the grotesque demon was gone. Buffy swallowed the murdering wishes that were jumping in her guts like untamed marionettes with severed strings.

His hand grabbed her forearm and her head whirled around.

“Don’t go. Don’t leave me now…”

Buffy held him tightly, her eyes tightly shut, her once beautiful outfit wreathed in splodges of blood, of tears, of fear. Voices were coming nearer. Sounds she couldn’t understand. They faded away as whizzing midges flying away in a murky sunset. Then a whistle pierced the night.

She was beyond everything. She was made of sobs and unintelligible whispers, staring into his fading eyes till they were nothing but a bottomless pit. Nothing to be seen there but a quiet blue pond with dead golden fish lying still within them. A trick of the street lamp that was guarding her back in a stoic, silent way. She hugged him even more strongly against her heaving chest; her fingers traced the golden strands of hair, her fingertips stained with laughing dots of deep red.

“You! Stay there! Stand up now, madam. Slowly.”

Buffy pulled her eyes away from his dead ones and raised her head. Perfect. A police officer. The most accusatory look in his flinty grey eyes. Buffy doubted for a second but complied.

The officer bent over the body and placed two fingers on the pulse spot. Finally he shouted with his gaze fixed on her bedraggled dress. “Call the undertaker!”

Buffy stood still, ignoring the officer questions. She was too shocked to make something up. She only waited. Wheels hitting the pavement. Horses. Three men shouting. Two horrible men with dirty suits raised the corpse from the floor. Her knees acted by pure instinct, collapsing against the surprised officer. With the skirts rolled up to her thighs she fled away. Not too far away, though. She knew she had to stay. Stay and perform her duty. As terrible and cruel as it sounded it was still her duty. Hidden behind a narrow crack of a crumbling doorstep, watching the sinister wooden cart where William was thrown as a useless bag of dirt. The sound crossed the street, heavy and definitive as a lid closing forever. She flinched, floating in a borrowed cloud.

The officer skimmed the street and shaking his head got on the cart with the others. Buffy followed them from a safe distance, sometimes taking the nearer street from which she could listen to the clattering wheels. Finally they came to a halt. A door squeaked. A few thumps and a hammer smacking nails.

“Wot? It’s night na. ‘Sides ‘e’s no’ goin’ anywhere! Don’t ya worry mate! Got three more to the bloody lil’ trip to Rookwood, ‘morra firs’ thin’!

Buffy crashed her back against the wall. She looked down and for the first time in that awful night she realized she still had his broken glasses clutched in her hand. As a tiny piece of him. To treasure for all the years to come.


“Come on Willow. How much longer?” Angel paced back and forth along Giles’ living room.

“Wouldn’t you be there? In that alley instead of here asking the same thing one second after another?”

“I just want to know it’ll work.”

“Well, better way to know is going to that alley and let me do my job.” Without you freaking me out more than I am.


His mother’s image was everything Buffy had in front of her eyes as she walked towards the house again. She had time. They hadn’t needed that carriage to take them to the meeting in first place. Only ten blocks from his house. “No lady is supposed to walk in the night. Not even with a gentleman by her side.” Watch me now. I’m walking alone and I’m not crying anymore. Instead I’ve got this cold fist inside my chest. I’m numb.

Facing the light behind the curtains she tried to find the words to explain something that was impossible to be explained. How could she? She was covered in his blood. Her dress was a mess and her gaze was a scatty one. The lady would probably change her mind about police stations… No, she couldn’t do this. Perhaps the officer… perhaps she’d know by other means… “She is very ill…” Oh, William! I’m so sorry!

She turned round feeling as a stitched doll loosing its padding, loosing its shape. Empty. The necklace was as heavy as an anvil. Back to the dead people store. Back to where he was waiting for her staking hand. The door was opened and the splintered wooden lid of the coffin scratched her dirty face.

A bright light appeared behind her right on the threshold. The portal. Blue and blinking. Stretching its welcoming arms. But she couldn’t. She had a task… that could easily be performed back at home. Buffy allowed the dazzling light to enfold her.

tbc...