Author: Meltha
Rating: PG
Feedback: Yes, thank you. Through Angel season 5.
Distribution: The Blackberry Patch and If you're interested, please let me know.
Summary: Fred is attempting to give Spike a corporeal body in season 5 of Angel, but things go extremely wrong… or is it extremely right?
Author's Note: Written for Eurydice 72's Williamficathon. The request was from tobywolf13 who requested Fred/William, no more than an R, a comedic/fluffy romance, time travel, Texas barbeque, and horseback riding Western style, with no character death, graphic sex, or slash. The fic sort of ran away from me and wound up being several short sections long.
Disclaimer: All characters are owned by Mutant Enemy (Joss Whedon), a wonderfully creative company whose characters I have borrowed for a completely profit-free flight of fancy. Kindly do not sue me, please, as I am terrified of you. Thank you.
Out of the Blue
Part 2
Fred landed with a dull thunk on a hillock covered in soft grass, and the spiraling lights that had surrounded her dissipated into nothingness. For a long minute, she remained with her nose pressed against the earth, panting in terror, trying to calm the racing of her heart. The soft smell of dew-covered earth and the green grass pressing into her face calmed her a little, though she would have been much happier to see the white tile floor of the lab below her instead.
"Okay, Fred," she said to herself out loud, "think. Are all your parts here?"
She tried to move her arms and legs, fingers and toes, and found that all of them seemed to be in working order. With a sigh of relief, she rolled over onto her back and stared up at the sky, breathing deeply. She was just starting to calm down enough for her brain to function when a familiar face came into view above her, upside down.
"Miss? Are you… are you quite well?" asked the man in a delicate English accent.
Fred stared up at him, her mouth hanging open from shock.
"Spike?" she asked, her brain refusing to wrap itself around the only logical explanation for what she was seeing.
"Spike? Did you fall on something sharp?" the face said, its brows immediately knitting in concern.
Fred groaned, but it wasn't in physical pain. She knew where she had to be.
"It's 1879, isn't it?" she asked gruffly as she pulled herself up into a seated position.
"Yes, of course," the young man said assuringly. "I don't quite understand what I've just seen, but are you certain you are alright."
"I'm okay," Fred said, rubbing a bruised elbow. "But what exactly did you see?"
"You… um… you'll forgive me I hope if you think this quite mad, but I saw you fall out of the clear sky, surrounded in a spider web of light," the man said as he carefully helped her to her feet. "You're not an angel, perchance?"
"Nope, just a plain old American girl," Fred said, stretching her aching back. "I just happen to be from the future."
"The what?" the man said, his mouth hanging open as hers had a few moments before.
"I'm from about a century and change from now," Fred said, "and, oh boy, I guess I probably shouldn't have mentioned that. Quantum Leap was right. Time travel really does Swiss cheese your brain a little."
"You're a time traveler?" the man said, and there was an undeniable note of excitement. "Oh, but this is wonderful! This is utterly unheard of! How simply splendid!"
"You don't have any trouble believing this?" Fred asked.
"Well, I did see you drop from nowhere with my own eyes, and I've always believed that humanity is capable of great creations, so why shouldn't a time machine be possible," he replied thoughtfully. "After all, who would have believed in locomotives before they had come about. Is it so far-fetched to believe that we might invent something to harness Cronos as well?"
Fred blinked and took in what was undoubtedly the human version of Spike. A pair of wire-rimmed spectacles perched on the tip of his nose, knocked slightly askew in his haste to see whether she was alright. His clothes, a simple pair of brown woolen trousers with a matching coat, a pale cream shirt, and a maroon ascot, seemed worn in places, but they had obviously been mended with great care. His hair was much longer and a warm, light-brown shade that showed reddish highlights in the sun and curled into soft waves over his forehead. He was adorable. There was no other way to put it, and she smiled a little at the thought of what Spike would say to that.
"Oh dear," he suddenly said and went several shades of red at once before immediately turning his back to her. "Ehm, Miss, you seem to have a rather large predicament."
"You mean besides being in the wrong century?" she said wearily.
"Yes. It appears that your, um, your clothing didn't all travel with you," he said, stuttering.
"What!" she said, glancing down. She was relieved to see her lab coat, the hem of her gray skirt peeking out from under it, and even her shoes exactly where they should be. "Yes, they did."
"B-b-but, your, em, limbs," he said, gesturing frantically with his back still towards her. "They're quite visible."
"My limbs? Oh, geez, what am I thinking! I must be half-naked for Victorian England," she said, smacking her head.
"Quite," he replied in a voice that squeaked a little.
"I don't suppose you could help me with that at all, could you?" Fred asked, feeling suddenly very embarrassed.
"I'll do whatever I can to help a lady in distress," he assured her. "Perhaps it would be best, though, if you moved off the green? You're in the middle of a public park. It's sheer luck that no one else has come along yet. The hydrangea bushes over there may provide suitable, ehm, privacy."
"Thanks," she said, quickly dashing the thirty or so feet to a thick row of hedges. "I'm, uh, all covered up now."
"Thank heavens," he breathed quietly before he turned around rather stiffly. "I live not far from here along with my mother. I could run home quickly and return with one of her gowns for you, but I fear leaving you alone in your current, ehm, predicament."
"Oh, I'll be okay for a minute. If anyone tries to hurt me, I'll just slug them," Fred assured him. "I can hit hard for a little thing."
"Well, as there's no other alternative, I'll return as quickly as my legs will carry me, you may be certain," he said, then was as good as his word as he sprinted down the park path with a speed that was extremely encouraging.
Left alone in the bushes, Fred began to go over in her mind all her options. She had, after all, been through a portal once before this, and she'd managed to come home again in one piece, relatively safe and sound, though not particularly sane for a while. She slowly came to the realization that this time, though, was intensely different. While Pylea had been in another dimension, it had at least existed in the same time frame as Earth. The same number of years had passed in Pylea as passed in her world. But now she was in the past, and it had happened entirely by a fluke. She supposed she might be able to build another device and attempt locking it in on her own molecules to send her back to her own time, but trying to find a power source, the equipment, the materials, the basic components…
"I've returned," said the voice from outside the bush. Immediately afterwards, she heard a soft rustling of leaves as a dress was laid across the bush's branches. "I think this will fit well enough."
"Thank you," she said as she grabbed the dress and threw it awkwardly over her head. It took her quite a while to do up all the buttons and hooks and laces, and she'd had to start over twice because things weren't matching up, but at long last she managed to complete the task well enough to be decently clothed by the Victorians' standards.
She finally came out from behind the leafy screen to find the one-day-Spike still standing with his back to the bush, obviously keeping a look out for any possible passers-by.
"Thanks again," Fred said, tapping him lightly on the shoulder.
"No trouble," he replied and smiled at her warmly if shyly. "Well, that much is taken care of, at least."
"Yeah," Fred said. "Now all I have to worry about is… everything."
With a shuddering gasp, the full enormity of her situation, the fact that she was stranded in a time when the only person she knew had never seen her before, when her parents hadn't even been born yet, when she had no home, no friends, no family, and wasn't even in her own country came crashing down around her all at once. She tried to think of any possible solution to her problem, but there was none. With a small cry, she felt herself returning to that horrible, panicky place her mind had been imprisoned in for so long on Pylea, and her legs collapsed beneath her. Tears poured down her cheeks, and she found herself weeping uncontrollably, curled into a ball on the ground.
"Miss?" the man said, obviously horrified. He crouched beside her on the ground, tentatively searching for her hand.
Fred could only continue to cry until finally one coherent sentence passed her lips: "I don't think I can never go home."
"Oh, no," he said, and the pity in his voice was obvious. "Oh, that's dreadful! You poor thing. But, come now, Miss. We can't have you stay out here in the park. As I'm the only person you must know in London, I'm responsible for you. Please, come home with me. Mother and I will look after you, and we'll sort all this out."
Fred blinked up at him, her tears distorting her vision, but she managed to give him a small smile as he handed her a handkerchief. She dabbed her eyes furiously and then blew her nose before allowing him to carefully help her to her feet.
"I don't see what other choice I have but to say okay," Fred said with a sniffle. "Thanks again."
"Pardon my forwardness, but may I enquire as to your name?" he asked as he led her along the path.
"Fred Burkle," she said, holding out a hand for him to shake. "Pleased to meet you. Well, sort of."
Instead of taking her hand, he awkwardly caught it in one of his own and gave it a light kiss.
"William Gordon at your service, Miss Burkle," he replied, then paused a moment. "They name women Fred in your time? how extraordinary."
"My real name is Winifred, but my friends all call me Fred," she explained, "and you're the only friend I have in this place."
"Then I may call you Fred?" he asked hesitantly.
"You sure can, William," she said. She took his offered arm in hers and began to walk through the streets of Victorian London, determined to find a way to make her life here work.
