Confusion
By: Lynn
Disclaimer: I own nothing, please don't sue.
Summary: see chapter 1
Rating: still PG-13, but it may change.
A/N: I realized the first chapter might have been a little confusing, so from now on all characters' thoughts will be in italics.
Chapter 1
Willow and Buffy walked down the sidewalk, quietly talking. Buffy twirled a stake in her hands, while Willow held a cross. Buffy was teasing Willow about Tara, and the redhead's face matched the color of her hair. Desperate to get on another subject, Willow latched onto the fact that they were walking outside of Spike's cemetery.
"So, speaking of the lovelorn…"
Buffy looked at the cemetery's gates, then back at Willow, and groaned.
"Still lorn."
Willow was about to ask more, when she saw a person lying in a heap right outside the gate.
"Buffy – look!" The two girls ran toward the body. Buffy naturally reached him first and gently rolled him over onto his back. Without really looking, she bent her head down to check for a pulse and breath sounds. Satisfied that he wasn't dead, she leaned back to look at Willow. She found the girl staring at the guy.
"Buffy…?"
"Yeah?"
"Take away the weird clothes,
and the hair, and the…you know, un-undeadness, and it's…"
Buffy looked back at the body, confused.
"Spike?"
* * *
Spike stood, staring at his former room for a good five minutes before shaking his head to clear it. Explanations came second. First came survival. He had to close the drapes before the sun rose too high. He carefully made his way around the sunbeam and over to the window. Breathing a sigh of relief when it was closed, he made his way over to the desk. According to the date on the calendar and the poem sitting on the desk, it was about a month before he had been turned.
Hard to forget your deathday, after all…
Spike didn't understand how or why he was there, but he did understand that no one in the Victorian time would be expecting a jean-clad, leather coat wearing, bleach blond William Carlisle. Striding quickly over to the wardrobe, he pulled out the clothes he used to know so well, frowning at them in disgust.
Bloody poof clothes, these are.
Quickly changing and throwing a hat on his head, he was done just in time for a soft knock on the door.
"Master William?"
"Yes…" Drat…what was her name? Nora! "Nora?"
"Breakfast is served, sir"
Breakfast…in the bright, sun-lit dining room. That would certainly give his swooning-prone mother a surprise.
"I'm feeling rather ill, Nora. Please apologize to my parents."
"Of course, sir. Would you like me to bring anything up?
How about a nice glass of A-pos?
"No, thank you."
Listening to the sounds of the maid walking down the hall, Spike sat at his desk, searching his mind for possible answers. Drawing a blank, he knew he needed help. But who could possibly help him?
What would I do in Sunnydale? Talk to Giles. Can't here – he's not THAT old. Watcher's Council? They'd stake me on sight. All of William's "friends" will think I've gone insane. All of my friends…I won't meet for another month.
Wait a sec…
Giles said once that being a Watcher was a family business. Perhaps someone in the Watcher's Council might help me…
Now, he only had to waste time until sunset. Sitting back down at the desk, he began to write down everything that happened. Giles might want to know…and helping Giles always was a surefire way to get in Buffy's good graces…
* * *
William fought through the darkness, trying to regain consciousness. He vaguely felt someone shaking him.
"Nora?"
Buffy looked at Willow, mouthing "Who?". Willow just shrugged.
"Spike…SPIKE. Wake up!"
William groaned, raising a hand to his head. Sitting up, he looked over at the two girls, then out at the street where, thankfully, there were no more machines. Turning around, he looked back into the cemetery and finally once more at the girls. And groaned again.
But then Victorian, not to mention Carlisle, manners kicked in. Rising quickly to his feet, he offered help to the blonde that had been kneeling next to him.
"Please, allow me. My deepest apologies for startling you; I can assure you, I'm quite alright. May I be permitted to escort you ladies home?
Buffy crossed her arm and stared at him with barely concealed annoyance.
"Cut the crap, Spike. What is this – another Gem of Amara type thing? And what's with the clothes…and hair…and accent?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Spike!"
"I fear you must have me confused with someone else. My name is William Carlisle. And you are?"
Buffy stared at him for another second, before turning to Willow.
"What's going on?" She whispered, as Willow kept looking back and forth between the two.
"Well… either it's amnesia or something, and he really thinks he's William Carlisle…or he really is William Carlisle."
"How
can there be a William Carlisle that looks so much like Spike?"
Willow just looked at Buffy
for a second, with the expression that Buffy always associated with asking a
math question in high school.
"Buffy. Spike…IS William Carlisle. William the Bloody…ring a bell?"
Buffy stared at Willow for a second, then back at the equally confused – looking Spike.
"Huh?"
A/N – Thanks for the reviews! Yes, it's going to be B/S. Also, sorry if this chapter was a little weird/bad – I didn't have a lot of time, but I still wanted to get a start on the good parts of the story.