Title: Two Weeks With William
Author: Edith Campbell
Section: 9/10
Relationship: Spike/Buffy
Disclaimer: Alas, they all belong to the mighty Joss, except for
the ones I made up to use in Spike's memories (ie. his sister).
Those are mine. :)
Distribution: I don't mind, but please let me know where it's being
distributed. :)
Rating: PG 15 for language
Spoilers: Up to 'The Gift' Please note that Buffy is back. How?
Use your imagination. :) Major 'Fool For Love' spoilers. Oh, and
in this chapter pretty much the whole entire series is game.
Feedback: Oh please! Yesterdays_Child4@y... Thank you for all the
lovely comments last time. :) You're all too nice!!
Summary: While fighting a pack of vampires with Buffy, Spike gets
knocked unconscious. When he wakes up, Buffy is presented with a
slight problem: Spike thinks its 1880. In order to repay Spike for
attempting to save Dawn, Buffy brings him to Giles, who determines
that he is suffering from a temporary amnesia. Will the gang be able
to accept William? What will happen when Spike comes 'back'?
**********************************************************************

==
A eerily high woman's voice was echoing about in his head, whispering
the same three words in a flowing Cockney accent: "My heart expands."

"Did you knock over the cabinet in the basement?"

Uncle Tom's voice was low and dangerous and his breath was heavy with
alcohol. William shied away from him, backing up until he was
pressed against the wall. The older man wouldn't let him escape,
however, and he too moved in closer, leaning right in his nephew's
face. William tried not to look at the beady eyed man with the
bulging belly and red cheeks, and tried his hardest not to inhale.
He concentrated all his attention on the tips of his shoes.

His uncle wouldn't have that. He grabbed William's chin between his
fingers and wrenched it in his direction, causing the boy to wince.
He gave him a harsh shake.

"I will ask you only one more time, boy. Did you knock over the
cabinet in the basement?"

Over his uncle's shoulder, he could see Kitty crouching behind the
huge, wooden desk in the centre of the office. She looked terrifed,
and he knew why. She hated the noise involved in yelling. She'd
cried endlessly when the bleedin' cabinet had collapsed, partly
because she'd smacked into it and had whammed her knee good and
proper, and partly because of the crash all the liquor bottles had
made as they broke.

"Did you knock over the soddin' cabinet?" This time his uncle's
voice was louder, and William found himself pinned to the wall by his
throat. He gasped and gagged and felt his eyes water, but he tried
not to struggle. Doing so only upset Uncle Tom further.

Kitty was screeching again, and her brother cringed. At the same
time, a cold fury settled in the pit of his stomach. He knew if he
lied and said he'd knocked over the cabinet, he'd be belted so bad he
wouldn't be able to lay on his back for almost a month. Not to
mention the thrasing his cousins were sure to give him. But if he
told the truth... His uncle would backhand Kitty, despite the fact
that she was only two, and she wouldn't be allowed to come and visit
anymore. He didn't want Kitty and Mother's visits taken away. And
he didn't want Kitty hurt. Ever.

"Yessir," he said at last, his voice tight with the strain of talking
past his uncle's hand.

The shout that erupted from Uncle Tom would have scared William
almost as much as it scared Kitty, if he wouldn't have found himself
tossed across the room. He struck his mouth on the desk on the way
down, and tasted blood. For a minute, he wondered if he'd broken his
jaw, but then he felt the first lash of the belt, and thought nothing
at all.

"You. Stupid. Soddin'. Boy," his uncle roared, marking each word with
a lash, "Clumsy. Waste. Of. Space. Just. Like. That. Whore. Of. A.
Mother, No. Good. Bitch."

1, 2, 3, 4, 5... the hits were endless.

Bordering on consciousness, William imagined his mother coming into
the room hellbent on vengenance. She had done so once a year ago,
and had coldcocked her brother-in-law so hard he'd fallen
unconscious. She'd then swooped to her son's side and held him,
crying and promising to go to the courts. She'd get him back, she
promised on his father's life. His uncle was shady, he'd pulled a
funny deal with fancy lawyers, but Mummy would fix it, William would
see.

He just had to trust her.

6, 7, 8, 9...

He just had to trust her.

And suddenly, the hits stopped. William lay for a moment, face down
and dazed. His back felt sticky with blood and it was on fire. He
winced and hissed, and then cried out despite himself when his uncle
roughly pulled him to his feet. He gave his nephew a harsh shove in
the direction of the door, nearly sending him sprawling. William
caught his footing at the last possible instant, grabbed his baby
sister in a tight hug, and made a beeline for the door.

He slammed it shut behind him, and set Kitty on the ground. She was
crying still and was clutching at his leg with her pudgy baby hands,
but his back was in too much pain for him to do more than pat her
head. Gingerly, he leaned his side against the door and inhaled a
shaky breath that ended in a sob.

Apparently, his sob was too loud. A moment later, something
shattered against the back of the door, and he heard his hated Uncle
Tom scream mockingly, "Run to your poetry, William! It's the only
bloody thing that loves you, you fucking son of a bitch!"

==

The voice changed. It was softer and the accent was more musical.
Cecily. "'Tis grown a bulge in it."

"Mother said you weren't to go in there, Kitty. Don't you ever
listen?" William asked, slumping against a tree in the park that his
sister had insisted on dragging him to. Supposedly, everybody would
be attending the fair there and it would look good if she was there,
as well.

"I didn't go in there intentionally," she promised, patting self-
consciously at her burgandy cloak. She loved her older brother
dearly, that was not to be mistaken, but sometimes William simply had
no sense of fun. Or, at least she didn't find his stuffy old books
particularily amusing. When he secluded himself as he had a tendency
to do, she worried about him endlessly. "Perhaps you should try it,
Will. Find out if you have a certain Cecily's affections?"

"Oh, I don't believe in all that rot," he affirmed, searching his
pockets for money. He could smell the taffy at a nearby stand, and
figured he was allowed to have some.

"Are you going to buy taffy?" Kitty asked, peering into her brother's
hand.

"Yes I am, and no, you may not have some." He smiled curtly at her
but winked, and she knew that he would come back with two bags full
and not just one.

Without her brother peering endlessly over her shoulder, Kitty turned
her attention back to the small, curtained tent that she had just
vacated. She hadn't known what had drawn her there, and surely the
old woman inside had given her a fright. She, however, had been
filled with a desire to seek answers to questions which nobody would
ever believe, and seeing a fortune teller had seemed like the thing
to do.

"Your candy, sis," William said, joining her again. He noticed her
watching the tent and sighed. "Shall we go then?"

Suddenly, she turned to him with pleading eyes. "You won't tell
Mother, will you? She wouldn't hold for me seeing that. Hard to
marry me off if everybody believes I put stock in all that."

"Which you do." Since she didn't seem to be moving, he grabbed her
arm, and steered her in the direction of the exit, where their
carriage was waiting.

"Well, William, I am sorry, but you try waking up with a vampire in
your bedroom. Perhaps then you'd believe me." And with that, she
wrenched her arm free and huffed off ahead of him.

He caught up with her in moments. "And the fortune teller believed
you, did she?"

"She did!" Kitty cried, defiantely, turning to her brother in a whirl
of heavy skirts. "And she told me what to do if I see one."

"And what's that?" he asked, dryly.

"Why, stake it, of course."

"Stake it? Kitty, are you out of your bloody mind? You can't
believe all that rot!" William was incredulous.

"I am not, and I do." For a moment, she appeared to be struggling
with what to say next. At last she heaved a huge sigh and
whispered, "She said something odd, William."

Wearily, he muttered, "Did she."

"Yes, she did. She told me... told me a certain Spike already had an
invitation into our home. Do you know who that is? Spike?"

William shivered and was filled with an uncanny feeling. It was as
though somebody had walked over his grave. He shuddered.

"Spike? For heaven's sakes, no. You musn't believe in that. Now,
come. Let's go. Wouldn't want to be caught out at night, what with
all those vampires."

Kitty glared at her brother, socked him soundly in the arm, and then
hurried to the carriage ahead of him.

==
This time she was American, and he found himself liking her voice
best of all. It warmed him for the first time in what felt like
centuries. "Inspired by your beauty, effulgent."

"And I wonder... what possible catastrophe came crashing down from
heaven and brought this dashing stranger to tears?"

William just about jumped off the bale of hay in surprise and fright
at hearing the voice of a woman. For a fleeting second, he thought
Cecily had come out after him, having changed her mind. And then
reality hit. He tried to sit a little straighter and hide the fact
that he'd been blubbering like a bloody baby.

"Nothing. I wish to be alone."

"Oh, I see you. A man surrounded by fools who cannot see his
strength, his vision, his glory. That and burning baby fish swimming
all around your head."

Burning baby fish? He backed up slightly, away from the woman with
crazily enchanting eyes that scared him like nothing else.

"That's quite close enough. I've heard tales of London pickpockets.
You'll not be getting my purse, I tell you."

The woman blatantly disregarded his protest, moving closer with an
amused smile. From out of nowhere, William noticed that she was
unusually pretty.

"Don't need a purse." She laughed as she said it, and then pointed
from his head to his heart. "Your wealth lies here... and here. In
the spirit and... imagination. You walk in worlds the others can't
begin to imagine."

Her insight into what he quite obviously was and the hand on his
chest that was traveling lower faster than he could think momentarily
made him forget himself.

"Yes," he purred. And then it all came crashing back. "I mean, no!
I mean... Mother's expecting me."

The dark haired woman didn't seem overly concerned. She busied
herself with unbuttoning his collar, and all thoughts of his mother
flew out the window.

"I see what you want. Something glowing and glistening. Something...
effulgent."

Effulgent! William's eyes widened and he unconsciously moved closer
to her as he repeated it in a whisper.

She had him and she knew it. She gave him a sultry smile and
whispered, "Do you want it?"

He couldn't remember a time when he'd wanted anything more. Finally,
somebody saw him... saw him for what he really was, and felt as
though she could love him.

"Yes," he paused, hesitantly placing a hand against her chest, "Oh
God, yes."

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

William awoke with a start. Breathing heavily, he counted to fifteen
and forced himself to think logically. Unfortunately, that was
something he had always been terrible at, and before he knew it, he
found himself moving to check and see if he had a pulse. His fingers
hovered hesitantly over his wrist, and he urged himself on fervently.

"Just check, and stop being such a nancy about it," he whispered, angrily.

His harsh whisper disturbed the young woman beside him and she
snuggled closer. William, who had forgotten her briefly as a result
of his dreams, smiled tenderly and placed his hand on her arm
instead. The love he felt for her nearly bowled him over, and he too
cuddled in closer, planting a soft kiss on her cheek.

The feel of cool lips against her skin prompted Buffy out of her
sleep. Smiling, she found William's hand under the sheet and gave it
a gentle squeeze. She absolutely refused to feel awkward, because
this... with Spike... felt good. And for the first time upon waking
up, the Slayer felt safe.

"Mmmm," she sighed, dozily, "What time is it?"

"Time?" William turned over, taking her with him, and glanced at the
clock. "2:30."

"Ohhh, 2:30," she yawned, cuddling closer still. And then it hit
her. "2:30!!"

Before William could say Spike, Buffy had sat up in bed and was
frantically trying to claw her way out of the sheets. She made it,
stumbled up, realized her state of undress, and snatched the blanket
off the bed.

"Get up!" she cried, desperately, "It's 2:30!! We've been up here
for an hour and a half!"

William was less than impressed with her hasty attitude, but seeing
her for that brief second before she'd grabbed the blanket had
improved his spirits greatly.

"Oh relax," he sighed, stretching out, "I'm sure they were too busy
dancing to notice anything amiss."

Buffy stopped trying to get into her petticoats and turned to glare
at him.

"William, my friends notice everything," she said, dryly. Then, she
made her break even longer by pausing to admire the very naked
vampire on her bed.

William noticed this and flushed. Blushing like the naked fool that
he was, he stood up and began to search for his pants. Respectfully,
he turned his back on the Slayer and began to dress. Buffy rolled
her eyes at this, but didn't comment. Instead, she began to fiddle
with the cursed corset.

"Dammit," she muttered, before turning back to William, who was
dressed now and sitting on the bed. "Do me up, would you?"

He nodded absently and moved over, deftly tying on the undergarment.

"Do you put corsets on a lot of girls?" she asked, climbing into her
dress again. She let him handle the buttons.

"Nah," he mumbled, leaning down to kiss her softly, "I only take them
off."

"Which you are very good at," she whispered, "About this though-"

"I know, I know, and I'm sorry. I don't know where my thoughts
were. I've soiled your virtue and... and I'll make it all better.
I... I love you, Buffy."

Soiled her virtue? She smiled and tried to imagine a duster clad
Spike saying that. Then his words registered, and she melted.

"You love me?" she cooed, reminding herself of a character from a
romance novel.

"I do," he repeated.

"And I..." And she what? Couldn't pretend any longer. "I love you
too, William." I love you too, Spike.

William laughed loudly and then grabbed her. They were in serious
jeopardy of never going downstairs at this rate, and Buffy knew it.
Pouting, she gave him a push in the direction of the door and
whispered a promise for later.

He was almost out when he stopped and turned back to her. Buffy was
about to hurry him on again, but shut her mouth when she saw the look
on his face.

"What's wrong, William?" Somehow, she found his hand.

"I... well, this will sound silly, Buffy. But I had this dream..."

"As you do."

"Am I... I mean, could I possibly be a... a monster?"

Buffy looked alarmed for a moment, but then she caught herself. She
gazed up into his eyes and smiled.

"William," she said truthfully, "Somebody else- somebody very like
you- told me that once, and I was stupid enough not to answer. Too
busy, thought I had time. You're not a monster."

His smile was contagious and he caught the Slayer again for another
kiss. She let him deepen it this time, and forgot all about her
friends. William, however, did not. And, when he left the bedroom,
his step was much more jauntier than when he'd gone in.

**

If the Scoobies had noticed their absense (which Buffy was one
hundred percent certain they had), they were too tactful to mention
it at the time. She received a few raised eyebrows, all of which she
pointedly ignored, and simply took a seat by William, who had once
again lapsed into a shy silence.

"Anybody want anything to drink?" the Slayer offered, noticing their
empty glasses.

"Yeah, Buff," Xander smiled, "Kinda thirsty."

"Just don't disappear for an hour and half again okay?" Willow added,
but she was smiling too.

Buffy nodded, blushed, and gave William's hand a pat in farewell.
She was halfway through the door when Anya caught up with her. The
ex-demon held her tongue until they reached the kitchen, but then it
proved to be too much.

"You had sex with Spike!" she cried.

Buffy's cheeks were on fire and she knew it, but she made a point of
quietly getting glasses and drinks instead and not answering.

Anya wouldn't have it. "Well, you did. You have that glowly look."

"Glowly look?" Buffy laughed nervously.

Anya's smirk was all knowing. She leaned against the counter and
said, "And?"

"And what?"

"And am I right?"

Haven gotten the Coke in record time, Buffy picked up the glasses and
turned to leave. Over her shoulder, she called, "Corsets are fun to
take off!"

**
William glanced around the living room, entirely confused. Every
time he glanced at one of his Buffy's friends, he saw flashes of...
memories. The looks on their faces when Spike had broken into the
school years ago, Willow's oddly timed, yet still comforting, words
when Spike couldn't bite her. Drinking with Anya. And Tara... Spike
had punched her in the face. He shook his head and blinked, willing
the thoughts to leave.

"I'm back with beverages!" Buffy announced, sitting by him with a
satisfying swish of her skirts, "And, William, I brought you your
favourite."

He took the glass of disguised blood she offered and gazed at the
clear liquid in it. The tangy fumes drifted up towards his nose and
suddenly... something happened. His skin felt too tight, and it was
much too warm in the room. He felt his face change, but couldn't be
bothered to figure out why. He felt violent and powerful and
strong. It overpowered him and he threw back the liquid with a
savage desire that should have terrifed him.

The Slayer looked at the vamped out William and gasped. The soft
sigh seemed to send him back to reality and he hesitantly patted his
face. His blue eyes grew wide with panic.

"Buffy, what's wrong with my face?" His voice sounded strange to his
ears, muffled and harsh. He couldn't stop touching the odd ridges
disfiguring his forehead and jumped to his feet. "I need a mirror.
Where's a bloody mirror?"

She was on her feet too. Quickly, before he could find one, she
grabbed his arm. "We have no mirrors. Bad for... self-esteem."

And then he growled. Surprised and horrified, he stumbled backwards
and half-fell half-sat on the chesterfield behind him. He could feel
his teeth with his tongue and they were different too. They were...
pointy.

A voice came back to him, soft and hazy with time. It taunted him
and nagged at something he couldn't- WOULDN'T- acknowledge. "She
told me... told me a certain Spike already had an invitation into our
home. Do you know who that is? Spike?" The dreams... the people...
Buffy...

Wild eyed and frantic, he clawed his way up again and raced to the
centre of the room, almost plowing over Xander. He crouched over
defensively, and backed himself into the wall. Then, he began to
babble.

"Oh, quickly! I'm the very spirit of vexation. What's another word
for 'gleaming'? It's a perfectly perfect word as many words go but
the bother is nothing rhymes, you see... My heart expands/ 'Tis grown
a bulge in it/ Inspired by your beauty, effulgent... 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..."

Buffy turned to Willow and yelled, "Do something!"

The witch shrugged and shook her head in confusion and Xander
exclaimed, half teasing and half surprised, "He's a poet?"

William caught this, and his tone became mocking and light. "Have
you heard? They call him William the Bloody because of his bloody
awful poetry!... It suits him. I'd rather have a railroad spike
through my head than listen to that awful stuff!"

"Make him stop!" Anya insisted, frightened by the frenzied look in
his eyes.

Buffy caught his hand in hers and forced him to sit down. She
couldn't, however, end the torrent of words escaping his lips.

"Oh yes! I mean no. I mean, Mother's expecting me... Oh yes, God
yes!... It's Spike now... What's a Slayer?... Sorry, luv, don't speak
Chinese...!" His voice was climbing. He turned to Buffy and
preened, panicking, "Sorry, luv, don't speak Chinese!"

"Spike!" she shouted, shaking him hard. When that didn't snap him
out of it, she pulled back her arm and coldcocked him. Surprised, he
fell to the floor and continued rambling, facing the roof.

"Someone's in the ceiling," he taunted, crazily, "...I'll dance with
you, pet, on the Slayer's grave!"

"Not loving the imagery here."

"I want to stop Angel. I want to save the world... Why did you do
it, baby? Why did you leave me? We were happy here... Oh, forever and
ever, mon petite creme brulee."

"'Mon petite creme brulee'?" Willow whispered to Tara, "Who's he
talking about?"

"Dru?" Buffy offered incorrectly, crouching again by Spike.

He turned to look at Willow, who smiled despite herself.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'd bite you in a heartbeat... Buffy, I love
you. God, I love you so much... No, God no!... You think I like
having you in here? Destroying everything that was me, until all
that's left is you, in a dead shell?... 'Cause Buffy- the other, not
so pleasant Buffy- anything happened to Dawn, it'd destroy her. I
couldn't live, her bein' in that much pain... I know you'll never
love me. I know that I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man. And
that's..."

They were all staring down at him, as though he'd lost his soddin'
marbles. And maybe he had. His bloody head was pounding with a
headache so fierce, he wondered if the chip had zapped him.

Slowly, he sat up, only noticing that Buffy's hand was squeezing his
when he tried to run it through his hair. He gave her a confused
look.

"Gettin' kinda touchy, aren't you, luv?" he asked, shaking her off and rising
to his feet.

It was Anya who said the word on everybody's mind. "William?"

Spike blinked, baffled, and seemed to notice for the first time that
he was dressed like a Victorian gentleman. He took a hesitant step
towards the door, shaking his head.

"No, no, no, NO! What's all this rot about William?"

The Scoobies stared back at him in utter silence. His bleedin'
poetry was almost written across each one of their faces, and
suddenly that awful knowledge was too much. Spinning, he grabbed his
duster off the hook and strutted to the door, fighting for his cool.

It slammed on his fiercely loud, "Bloody hell!!"

TBC