Willow smiled at the shop keeper when she entered the magic store. She'd finally found the right spell to fix everything. She'd go back in time to warn Buffy and Angel that he could lose his soul preventing all the badness of the last several months. Buffy would still be here and so would Angel.

Today the spell and tomorrow the haircut followed by a date with Oz. She hummed as she picked up the supplies she needed. "Do you have any blessed jet?" Willow asked when the shop keeper asked her if she needed help.

The woman peered into Willow's basket. "Time travel? Those spells require a lot of concentration and power. Are you sure you're up for that?"

"I am. And this is a matter of life and death."

"Let's get you the right supplies then. Blessed jet is a good start, but you should also add some tiger's eye to help with concentration." The shopkeeper walked around the store picking out everything Willow would need then rang her up. "That'll be fifty-six twenty-four."

Willow paid. "Thank you."

Two hours later and Willow was setting up the spell in the chemistry classroom. The door flew open and the tiger's eye flew out of her hand as she whipped around to see who was there.

"Spike!" She tried to run out the other door, but he caught her and slammed her against the wall.

"You're going to do a spell for me. Make it right again." The stench of whiskey hit her face with every word.

She nodded emphatically. "I'll do whatever you want. What kind of spell?"

He let her drop back onto her feet. "We're going back in time. You're taking me to Prague and we're going to get me and Dru out of there before the mob gets her."

Tears pricked her eyes. The spell could only be done once, and she would lose her chance to warn Buffy and Angel. But what choice did she have? Spike would kill her if she refused. "I need something personal to get us there. Something from that time."

Spike pat himself down and pulled a tarnished ring out of his pocket. "Will this do?"

"It's a little small, and if we're both going we both need to be touching it when working the spell."

"What if I got a matching ring?" He pulled a larger tarnished ring out of the same pocket.

"Th-that should work." She pushed her hair behind her ear and walked over to where she had the spell set up. When she ripped a page out of the book, he grabbed her wrist.

"What's this then?"

"It's the spell to return. You can only do these spells once and we need that to get back to this time."

He wrenched it out of her grip and read it over. When he was done he crumpled the paper and lit it on fire. "I'm your only way back. Call it insurance so you don't try to leave me behind." He shoved the ring on her finger and shoved her into the table. "Let's get started, shall we?"

With a nod she slipped her arms through her robe, something that had been in her mother's family for centuries. It was a black wool cloak that she'd been using as a ceremonial robe. She clasped it at the collar with an emerald and sapphire brooch with trembling fingers. "Keep the time and place you want to go to in your mind. If you don't concentrate we could end up anywhere in the past. Maybe we should wait until you're sober."

"I'm fine. Do the spell." He snarled at her until she started to chant.

She pinched herbs over the flame as she recited the spell, held the jet over the same flame until she said the last words. There was a flash and another punching her back into Spike.

At once she landed on him and they were a tangle of limbs. It was a lot darker now and when she scrambled off him, she hit wet stone. The old buildings didn't look like pictures of Prague she'd seen. "Where?" She looked at Spike. "Where are we? When are we?"

"Not a clue, pet." He got to his feet, and she stood as she tried to figure out where they were.

"Spike? What were you thinking about during the spell?"

He growled. "I concentrated on Prague like you told me to but I kept thinking about how Angelus ruined Drusilla. How he was just as much of a prat alive as dead. Darla used to talk about how magnificent he was before she turned him."

A man rode by on a horse, wearing short breeches. Spike and Willow watched him until he was out of sight. "I think you sent us to when Angel was still human. I can't remember anything other than Ireland in the eighteenth century somewhere."

"Galway. And Darla turned him in 1753." Spike said on a groan.

"Well then we're in Galway sometime before she turned him, but after he was born, I think." This would suck, but she took a deep breath then asked, "Can we just go home now?"

"We need spell ingredients first, but yeah, we can leave as soon as we get them." Spike kicked a rock. "Need to find an inn."

She covered her head with the hood of her cloak and wrapped her arms around herself to hide her jeans and sweater. "Which direction should we go?"

He turned around and then pointed. "This way."

"You should button up your duster." She kept at least a foot between them. This was hell to her. Spike always had to ruin everything.

He did as she suggested.

The sun was about to come up when they finally found an inn. "Let me do the talking, Red."

"Yeah, sure, whatever. I just want to sleep for a month."

They entered to the smell of food Willow couldn't place. Spike saw a man near the fire, and said, "Good sir, would it be possible to rent a room?"

"Aye, it would." The man got up and looked them over with a suspicious eye. "Where do ye hail from?"

"England."

"I'm Ian, and you'll have to take the only room we have left. The festivities leave little room." He opened a book and dipped a quill in an inkpot. "What be your names?"

"William and Willow Ashdown."

"And what a handsome couple you make." Ian was staring at Willow's brooch. "I didn't think to offer, but we do have a larger room if you have the means."

Spike raised an eyebrow and followed the man's eye. "The smaller room is fine, I'm sure."

"If a ya say so. Would your luggage be outside?" Ian asked coming round the counter.

"Our luggage was destroyed during the journey here. We'll need directions to a fast modiste."

"No need. My wife Brigid is right quick with a stitch. Makes handsome clothes, she does." He handed Spike a key. "I'll have my wife see you to your room and she can get your measurements." Over his shoulder, Ian shouted for his wife to bring her measuring supplies.

Ian's wife appeared from a back room with a well worn tape in hand. She was young, not much older than Willow by the looks of her, much younger than her husband. "Yes, Ian?"

"These customers be needing some new clothes as fast as ya can make 'em. All theys got is whatcha see. Show 'em to the small room while you're at it." Ian sat back near the fire and picked up some wood and a knife.

Willow yanked Spike's arm and hissed in his ear, "I'm wearing jeans."

"So am I. It'll be fine, trust me." Spike opened the door when Brigid stopped.

"How many dresses and suits will ya be needin'?" Brigid asked as they filed into the tiny room.

"Three of each. And is there a decent cobbler in town?" Spike closed the door and Willow felt like she would suffocate for how small the room was. The bed took up most of the space. There was a nightstand on one side and a wardrobe on the other. Sun streamed in through cracks in the shutters. And before either of them could stop her, Brigid threw the shutters open all the way.

"More than one, sir. But I always go to O'Connor's. His last the longest in me experience."

Spike wasn't listening because he was staring at his hands in the dawn. "Bloody hell."

"Sp-William!"

"What is it sir?" Brigid asked in worry.

His brow furrowed as he noted his ring. It was melted into his skin. "Just one of my rings are missing," he said absently. He grabbed Willow's hand, and they both stared at the ring fused to her finger.

Willow fluttered her hand away. "We'll talk about it later."

"Right then. We still need to have clothes." Spike turned to the seamstress. "Who would you like to measure first?"

"Dunna matter to me, sir."

"Before we take our cloaks off, I need to tell you that our luggage was destroyed during our journey here. Our clothes aren't what you would call proper."

"I'll not judge. Off with them so I can get an idea of what I'm workin' with."

Willow shrugged and slipped her cloak off as Spike tossed his coat across the bed.

"I can see why you need me to hurry. There might be a dress and suit all made that'll just need taken in. I can have those to you by the end of the day. Would that be good?" Brigid posed Willow so she could measure.

"That would be grand." Spike tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

It took literal biting of her tongue to keep Willow from asking a lot of questions. She wanted to know why they needed three outfits and did she have to give up her sneakers? How long were they going to be stuck here?

When Brigid finally left, Willow crossed her arms over her chest. "How long are we going to be here?"

"You think getting all your supplies will be easy? Remember the time you're stuck in, Red. Some of those items you used to get us here would get you killed. We'll leave the second we can, but that might be longer than either of us like."

"I'm tired."

"Me too, love."

"You take the floor." Willow toed off her shoes.

Spike grabbed her by the hair and wrenched her head to face him. "If anyone takes the floor it'll be you." He let her go. "But I'm willing to share."

She fought back the tears. The bed wasn't that big, and she'd have to sleep with him pressed up against her if they didn't want to fall off. But the floor had large splinters sticking out of the rough wood. Not looking at him, she climbed into the bed.

He closed the shutters and slipped in next to her. After some awkward attempts at getting comfortable, he faced her toward the wall, spooned around her and held her around her waist while his other arm was under her head.

Her hand in front of her face with a small spot of light from a crack in the shutters lighting it, Willow studied the ring. The pattern was demolished, and the surface was smoothly rippled tapering into burnt looking skin. It didn't hurt, but she'd never be able to get the ring off. It was on her left ring finger as if permanently marrying her to Spike. Until now she'd gone through everything as if it were a dream, but this was real. She was hundreds of years in the past with a vampire as her only way to get back to her time. She cried herself to sleep with Spike saying nothing of it.

It was dark when Willow opened her eyes. She couldn't see a thing, but she knew she was alone… or at least alone on the bed. "Spike?"

Nothing. She got off the bed and felt her way around. On the nightstand there had been a candle. She got it lit and saw the wardrobe open with a dress hanging in it. It was a pale green with lace edges. She looked in the open drawer and saw it stuffed with undergarments. She went through them and couldn't figure out where to start. Did the corset go on first? Wasn't there a gown that went under that?

She hadn't figured it out when Spike returned. He was wearing a white shirt under a vest that matched her dress, white short breeches, stockings and his combat boots. His hair was soft and tousled, no longer rigidly slicked back. He appeared pensive.

"Spit it out." Willow continued to try to make heads or tails of the clothes.

"I ran into human Angel."

Her head shot up. "What?"

"He's in the pub across the street. And it got me thinking. What we stopped him from being turned? He'd never be able to take Dru from me." Spike absently sorted through her clothes and tossed her the undermost dress.

"Turn." She twirled her finger at him.

Spike didn't argue and turned his back. "We'd have to stay longer. But Angelus was always a bastard and the world would be better without him, yeah?"

Willow undressed and pulled the shift over her head, smoothing it down her body. The full gravity of what he said cut through her brain. If Angelus isn't turned then neither is Drusilla. Angel had saved her life sophomore year. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Should she save him or let countless people die so she could live? "Sounds good. We save Angel. Sure." She hoped he didn't hear the quiver in her voice. "How am I supposed to get this thing on?"

He turned and said, "Here, I'll help you. Corsets are a two person job." She already had it around her waist, she just couldn't lace the damn thing. He turned her toward the bed. "Hold onto the bed frame."

"This is going to suck isn't it?"

"Yep." He pulled the laces tight then tighter then tighter still. When she gasped, he pulled them even tighter before tying them off.

"This hurts."

"It's supposed to." He helped her into the rest of her skirts and then finally the dress. It buttoned up the back.

"How should I wear my hair?"

He knelt on the bed and pat the bed in front of him. "Hand me a pins when I ask."

"You know how to do women's hair?"

"Vampires. No reflection, who do you think did Dru's hair and makeup?" He twisted her hair around and then up. "Pin."

She handed him pins until he said she was presentable. "Did you find out the year?"

"Seventeen fifty two."

"We're going to be stuck here for a year?"

"More like eight months."

She sighed. Eight months of keeping her resolve to die for the greater good sounded like torture. "We can't stay in the inn that long, can we?"

"No, it would be suspicious. But I sold your brooch and we've got enough to live high on the hog for eight months or be comfortable if we need to stay longer." He jingled a pouch at her. "We're looking at a cottage tomorrow."

"Do you have a plan on how to save Angel?"

"His name's Liam right now, but all I can think is that we need to insinuate ourselves into his life and when the time comes, keep him out of alleys." Spike drank her in. The corset pushed up her breasts and with the dress as low cut as it was he felt his trousers get tight. He didn't want to tell her that they would be around for at least fifty years. Easy for him, since he born in the Victorian era, but a little computer hacker would have trouble with it. "You hungry?"

"No."

"Me neither."

"Should we go to the pub then?" She asked as she stretched trying to make herself comfortable in these clothes.

"Stay with me at all times. It's not proper for a lady to be out at night without an escort. And certainly not in a pub." He jumped off the bed and offered her his elbow. "Shall we?"

"Shouldn't we come up with a story? He's going to ask us questions about our lives at some point if we get friendly with him. We should get our facts straight first."

"Good point. We're married. We have the matching rings melted to our skin, so we're stuck with that. Though men don't take rings in this age, but it's the only explanation that makes any sense."

"So why are our rings melted onto us then? Evil parents that were afraid we'd try to leave each other without a permanent reminder that we belong to each other?" Willow sat, but the corset meant having to keep her posture perfectly straight and it still dug into her lap.

"That's not a bad story. The burns are healed, so this was some time ago, so we were young when we were married. But now we get on well. We've found solace in each other now that we're away from them." Spike leaned against the door. "Liam would find that fascinating. And he'll hit on you. He was always a womanizer. Ever attracted to the lout?"

"No. So if he hits on me what should I say?"

"Say nothing. Slap him. I can take it from there." Spike raised an eyebrow, "And don't forget to breathe. You don't have a heartbeat and you stopped breathing when you fell asleep, I assume it's a side effect of the spell. But people notice if you don't breathe."

"That explains why you do it. And yes, it's a side effect of the spell. I'm essentially frozen. So are you. Our hair and nails won't grow, we don't need to eat, and we can't be killed. So at least there's that. We don't have to explain why you never go out in the day."

He picked up his pack of cigarettes from the nightstand and lit one up. "Going to miss these when they're gone. Cigarettes don't get invented any time soon. Wait, we don't need to eat? But can we eat? People might notice if we eat nothing."

"No. We can't. Well, we can chew and swallow but our bodies will reject the food and it comes back out the way it went in."

"What about drinking?" he asked, scowl on his face.

"I assume the same. Maybe we should try before we try to meet him at a pub?"

Spike drank several gulps of water straight from the pitcher. The water didn't come up immediately, so they waited. "I don't think drinking's a problem."

"It might come back up later."

"We'll risk it. We need to worm into his life sooner, not later." He offered her his elbow again, this time she took it.

"Ashdown?"

"My human last name."

"And here I thought it was Pratt."

"Fine it's my mother's maiden name. But I can't go around with the last name Pratt."

Willow giggled her nerves. She could pretend ease with Spike but he still terrified her. "I won't breathe a word to anyone."