Disclaimer: The characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer are owned by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox studios. This story is not meant to infringe upon anyone's rights, only to entertain.

**

Chapter 13 - Family

They arrived at the Pratt estate, just around dinnertime and both Mr. And Mrs. Pratt were more than happy to see their son and meet his guest. Dinner was pretty much uneventful, which both Spike and Buffy were thankful for. When dinner was over, Mrs. Pratt enthusiastically gave them a tour of the estate, pointing out to Spike all the changes she had made when he was gone and all the changes she was thinking of making. Spike tried to take everything in politely, smiling and giving his “mother” encouraging remarks. The last room they visited was the library and it was there that things started to get interesting. Mrs. Pratt excused herself from their company, thinking that perhaps they wanted to be alone.

The library was a fairly large room, books lining almost every wall with a few comfortable chairs in the center of the room. But what took both Spike and Buffy by surprise were two painting – one was of a man in his middle twenties that looked uncannily like Collin and the other looked like that girl in the painting in Collin and Emily’s receiving room. Spike stared at both paintings dumbfounded, like something about them were very familiar.

Buffy leaned forward and tried to see if there was a date on either painting. “This one says 1874. Okay.. so I guess that definitely can’t be Collin.”, she said looking over at Spike only to find him staring at it, as if he’d seen a ghost.

Spike took a few steps back, trying to take the whole painting in. He knew who it was – the hair, the eyes, the somewhat scholastic look. “I look like a bloody ponce!” he said unknowingly out loud.

Buffy looked at him wide-eyed. “You?! You mean that’s …”

Spike nodded slowly, not taking his eyes of the painting. This revelation answered a whole lot of answers and brought forth just as many questions. He tried to remember the time when he posed for the painting, but it was so long ago that all he got was more like fleeting images. But the existence of this painting, in this house, just meant that Collin was definitely related to him. He had his suspicions when he first found out that Collin’s last name was Pratt, but he dismissed it as just a possible coincidence. For one, he never bore any children and when he was turned, there was no one else to carry on the family name, as far as he knew.

The doors to the library creaked opened, and Collin’s father entered the room. “Staring at her again, I see Collin?”

Spike gave him a questioning look.

“Your Lady of Summer. Ever since you were six you’d be over here looking at her.”

“I was?”

“Almost everyday, son. That’s why I wasn’t surprised that you wanted to take her other portrait with you to America. I just don’t know what it is with you and your Uncle William always wanting to be in the company of beautiful women, present company included.” He said sweetly looking at Buffy.

Buffy replied with a smile, hiding the confusion that was wracking her brain. Uncle William? Could he be referring to Spike? Could this be Spike’s family?

“Uncle William Da?”

“Are you daft boy? Yes, your Uncle William Pratt. Actually I should say your Great Great Grand Uncle William.” He said pointing to the painting that earlier Spike revealed was of him. “He was a bit of a recluse, though quite gifted in the arts despite what other people may say. He painted your Lady of Summer though no one to this day has been sure who she is really. Anyway, I just came down here to tell you that I found another one of your Uncle’s journals.” He said, unceremoniously handing it to Spike. “I know you were always interested in them.”

“Uhm.. Thanks Da!”

“You’re welcome son. Anyway, it’s getting late. I have to be in the office early tomorrow. Buffy, Collin… Good night.”

As Mr. Pratt left the room, the door closing seemed to echo throughout the whole library as Spike stared at the journal in his hand, and Buffy looked in awe at the painting of Lady of Summer. Things were starting to get really eerie now. It was one thing for the girl to look somewhat like her, it was another for Mr. Pratt to affectionately call the girl Lady of Summer. But none of it made any sense. If William Pratt was indeed Spike, then how would a painting which was signed and dated in 1885 be part of this household. She doubted that once Spike was turned that he’d actually visit his human family. From what he had told her, he never looked back on his human life.

“So Spike, did you paint her?”

“I guess… I don't know... I mean the stroke seems familiar. But ... " he moved closer to the Lady of Summer, his fingers slowly tracing the strokes. There was familiarity there... a lost memory perhaps or wishful thinking of maybe coming closer to what had happened. William Pratt... a name he had left and forgotten now comes to full view but what comes with the name? It comes with a life, with dreams, with memories beyond the day he was reborn. How can that be? Is his existence then in question? All his deeds both good and bad a joke? A story created in someone's mind. No, that was not possible. He existed, he mattered. He was there when he stood by Buffy’s side as she fought against the First. He heard her utter those three words that had made his unlife complete. He came back and fought beside his grandsire, hoping that this time he would find peace. He was there. But then, what was in his hand? In his hand was testament to a life beyond his rebirth. But why can he not remember? Who was this William Pratt that lived a human life?

Spike slumped down into one of the chairs and stared at the hard cover, unsure if he wanted to know what was inside.

Buffy sat down in the chair beside him, her hand resting lightly on his. “Spike?”, she asked with concern. She could only imagine the thoughts that were going through his mind. It all seemed impossible. How could William have existed and apparently lived a full human life when he was turned in 1880. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense, but then again, with the things Buffy has seen in her life as the Slayer, she had learned to never rule anything out. She could only hope that Giles had better answers for them.