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 4

When the next morning dawned and sunlight streamed through the window of her tiny room, Fred wasn't certain exactly where she was at first. The bits and pieces of the day before came back to her like fragments of a strange dream, but then she remembered everything fully, and it felt like a stone had gone crashing into her chest. She let out a soft sob and buried her head in the unfamiliar pillow.

"Miss Burkle?" asked Mrs. Gordon from the hallway. "May I come in?"

"Oh, um, yes," Fred responded, wiping the tears away with a fist.

The door opened, and the older woman came in and knew at once Fred had been crying.

"Poor child," she said softly, patting her hand. "I can't even imagine how foreign this place must be for you."

"Oh, you've all been real nice," Fred assured her. "Just as nice as can be. But I do miss my family and my friends, and thinking that I might never see them again hurts."

"Of course it does," she said soothingly. "But you are among friends here, if that's a consolation, but you go ahead and cry if you have a need to."

"Think I'm about cried out for now," Fred said firmly.

"Then why not come downstairs and we'll see about getting you some breakfast, and perhaps later the two of us might go shopping for a few necessaries for you."

The day moved quickly. Fred quickly ate a piece of bread and a few strips of bacon with William and his mother, savoring the taste as though she hadn't eaten in months. Afterwards, Fred and Mrs. Gordon went shopping in a very small, rather moth-eaten looking store that sold second-hand garments. Fred had a difficult time finding anything that would fit because she was so much taller than the average woman of the time, but eventually she found a plain dress made from a brown and gray plaid cotton. It wasn't really her taste, but she was simply happy to have a dress of her own, though admittedly she had to borrow against her first month's salary to buy it. Her shoes were odd-looking for Victorian London, but they would do well enough in a pinch.

After a long day out searching for the best bargain they could find, the two women came home to find William gone and a pot of stew simmering over the kitchen fire.

"William is still working at his job as a clerk in a dry goods store until a week before the school begins classes," Anne explained. "He works entirely too hard. I'm quite glad you arrived on a Sunday."

"Which reminds me," Fred said, "what is the date exactly?"

"It's July 28, 1879," Anne told her.

"Well, at least I hit the year almost smack-dab in the middle," she thought glumly. Good aim; wrong target.

Just before dark, William's voice rang through the doorway, and Fred and Anne greeted him. He looked tired.

He accompanied the two ladies into the kitchen, where the stew was at last ladled out into bowls and eaten with great appetite. It was only then that Fred realized she had never eaten lunch. The day over at long last, she once more found herself in bed, though this time clad in a nightdress rather than falling asleep in the same clothes she'd worn that day.

The rest of the week went by quickly, and Fred quickly began to learn the chores and tasks that needed to be done each day. After nearly lighting the house on fire three times, she caught the trick of kerosene lanterns. The manual labor of washing day was so exhausting that she began to realize why gyms were completely unnecessary in the 19th century. Her cooking skills over the kitchen fire and the wood-burning stove were still quite bad, though. Everything she tried turned out blackened on one half and raw on the other. Anne just laughed and said everyone had to have difficulty with something. The two quickly became fast friends.

When Saturday rolled around once again, she was able to pause for a breath. William was home, and Fred was thrilled to see him again. Often, he was so tired from his work that he began to doze at the kitchen table, and he was far too exhausted to talk for long. Saturday, though, was a happy day. It was when William could at last set aside his work and take the weekend for his own pursuits. When he asked Fred if she would accompany him to the park again, Anne smiled behind her hand and hoped that she was right about the pair of them.

William loved the park dearly, and Fred could see why. It was a little oasis of green in the middle of the city, and the air felt cleaner here. Awkwardly, he offered her his arm, and the two walked companionably down a quiet path, listening to birds chirping in the morning sunlight. Everything seemed extremely pleasant.

"Well, if it isn't William Shakespeare," yelled a voice behind them.

William jolted to a stop, but didn't turn around. Fred distinctly heard a quiet, "Bloody hell, not now," come from him, and she raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"I say, William, you aren't being at all polite," said a different voice, laced with nasty laughter. "Oh, wait, he's got a ladyfriend with him!"

The pair of them turned around to confront a group of seven young men, all roughly William's age, smiling in a way that wasn't the least bit friendly. Fred disliked them immediately.

"I've no wish to speak with you, Robert," William said very clearly. "Leave us alone."

"No wish to speak with me?" said one of the larger men, and it was easy to sense that he was the ring-leader. "That hurts, Will, it really does. Or it would if you mattered one iota, which you don't. But who's this with you? Cousin? Only way a pretty thing like that would be seen with you."

He eyed Fred appreciatively, and William's arm tensed under Fred's hand.

"You'll leave the lady alone," he growled.

"Let's let her decide that," Robert said, ignoring him. "Who would you rather spend the day with, lovely? William the flat-broke charity case, or me?"

Fred looked him up and down coldly before very clearly enunciating, "William. And I'm not a cousin."

The males catcalled appreciatively.

"American by the sound of her," Robert said, stepping closer into William's space. "What you do, momma's boy? Go down to the cheap end of town and buy yourself a bit of fluff for a few hours?"

William turned to face Fred directly.

"Excuse me for a moment," he said between clenched teeth, then turned around and socked Robert so hard in the nose that the larger man wound up sitting on the ground.

"Well, what are you lot waiting for?" he yelled from the gravel path, still holding his nose. "Get him!"

William, in spite of his size, proved to be rather good in a fight. With six men attacking, he was still able to keep his feet for quite a while. Things weren't looking good for him, though, until Fred jumped on one of the men from behind, winding up riding him piggyback style and choking him until he joined Robert on the ground. William looked up in amazement, though he was sucker punched for it. As Fred moved on to yet another opponent, this time throwing him off balance with a martial arts move Angel had taught her more than a year ago for self-defense, William grinned broadly.

"Let's just get out of here," one of the men said suddenly. "I'm not hitting a girl, even if she is half-animal!"

As William and Fred watched in amusement, the rest of the gang of wealthy young men with too much time on their hands all found similar excuses for leaving, until only Robert, still holding a bleeding nose, was the only one left.

"You're as freakish as he is," Robert declared resoundingly. "The pair of you deserve each other. I hope you give him the pox!"

With that, he joined the rest of his group in their hasty retreat. Fred and William looked at each other in amazement.

"Oh, your mother isn't going to be happy about this," Fred said, running her finger over a ripped seam in his jacket.

"I suppose not," he agreed, but couldn't help smiling. "Was worth it, though, to see Robert sitting in the dust. And you! Where did you learn to do that?"

"If a girl lives in L.A., she needs to be able to take care of herself," Fred said with a note of pride. "Do I look a mess?"

"No," William said truthfully. "You've barely a mark on you, thank heavens."

"Then let's just continue our walk," Fred said. "I don't want that kind of garbage ruining our day."

"I quite agree," William said, and in a moment they were once more walking along the path, though they were talking and laughing over what had occurred and looking a bit the worse for wear.

"So, why did he call you William Shakespeare?" Fred asked.

William stiffened again for a moment. "I… um… I'm a poet."

Fred was utterly stunned. Never in a thousand years would she have guessed that Spike as a human had written poetry.

"Really?"

"Yes, though I must admit I struggle with my verses," he said, turning red. "They're quite, ehm, bad. The others found some of my writings at school once, and I've never heard the end of it."

"They can't be that bad," Fred said with a wave of her hand. "If you mean what's behind it, they'll be fine."

"Perhaps that was the trouble," he thought to himself, remembering his feelings for Cecily. Could it be that the reason his poetry about her was so stilted and poorly written was because what he felt for her wasn't enough to inspire poetry? And why was it then when he looked at Fred, phrases and lines and whole poems seemed to float effortlessly into his mind?

"I believe my problems have intruded quite enough into this day," William said quickly. "I should very much like to hear more about you. What is Texas like?"

"Oh, it's pretty," Fred said with a smile. "The country just feels so big, you know? It's like there's plenty of room to breathe."

"It sounds wonderful," William said. "And what did you do there?"

"You mean besides studying constantly?" Fred laughed. "When I had a few hours free, I'd go down to the local stable and ride. My dad let me take lessons when I was little because I begged and begged."

"You enjoy riding, then?"

"Oh, sure! It makes everything else seem far away," Fred said. "Do you ride?"

"Yes," William said, "though I rarely have time for it."

"Well, we should make time!" Fred said decidedly. "Is there a way we could go riding next Saturday?"

"I believe there is," William said, delighted that she wanted to spend another Saturday with him. It almost sounded like she hoped it would be a regular outing. "Another fellow at work owes me a favor. I'll ask him if he'll allow us to borrow his horses for the day. He has two; I believe a wealthy uncle left them to him."

Fred smiled winningly at William, and he felt his knees go weak.

Their Sunday passed in blissful rest, with a chicken dinner served, the only real meat of the week. It was as pleasant and happy a meal as any three people ever had. Fred watched William animatedly speaking with his mother, gesticulating with a chicken leg in his hand, discussing the master poets he would include in his lesson plans for the new school. The firelight glinted against his glasses, the shadows of the flames throwing his cheekbones into sharp relief. Fred suddenly realized that it had grown extremely quiet and noticed with a start that Anne and William were both looking at her expectantly.

"Sorry?" Fred apologized, realizing a question had been asked to her and she had absolutely no idea what it was.

"I was just saying to mother that I thought we should hold off on Milton until the older classes," William said patiently, "as it's a bit much to take in all at once. Do you agree?

"Oh, um, yeah," Fred said in embarrassment, knowing she must have been caught staring. "Better to build them up to the harder stuff."

Anne said nothing at all out loud, but she ate her dinner with a great deal of enjoyment thereafter.

On Monday night, William came home tired but happy. He had managed to get the co-worker to loan the horses to him for the day.

"There's only one problem, though," William said. "I'm afraid the only saddles he has are the ones his uncle left him along with the horses."

"So what's wrong with that?" Fred asked.

"They're Western saddles," William said with a shudder. "I've never ridden on anything so huge and bulky as those monstrosities!"

Fred laughed at him. "Well, at least I'm in luck. I don't understand how you guys can ride on those teeny-tiny little saddles here. Western is the only way I've ever ridden."

"Yes, but, they aren't sidesaddle," he said delicately.

Fred rolled her eyes. "I know it's hard to believe, William, but in my time, women actually wear pants. I've never ridden in a skirt and wouldn't know how to ride side-saddle."

William blinked rapidly at that declaration, then said, "But, ehm, that's rather a problem."

Fred suddenly realized that she was indeed going to have to ride in skirt or risk being arrested for indecency. "Well, you'll have to deal with the saddle, and I'll have to deal with the skirt. Between the two of us, at least the horses will laugh a lot."

When Saturday came, William left before dawn to collect the horses from the other man and bring them back home. About an hour later, he arrived at the front door with a pair of horses. He was riding, albeit obviously uncomfortably, one that was charcoal gray, and the other, which was brown with one white sock on its left foreleg, was following along behind. Fred patted the brown horse's forelock gently, talking softly to it.

"Good morning," she said. "And what would your name be?"

"That's Princess you're speaking to," William said, "and I'm riding Dodgy."

"Dodgy? That's not exactly a confidence-inspiring name," Fred said with a wry face.

"I'm hoping it means he dodges trouble," William said, shifting again in his saddle. "So, shall we away?"

Fred looked up the saddle, trying to figure out just how she was going to manage riding in her dress, but eventually she shrugged and swung herself up by the stirrup, choosing to straddle and let the skirts bunch as they would. William had blinked a bit, and she knew it was a little indecorous and that a few inches of stockings above her ankle were exposed to the world, but she wasn't going to let that spoil the day. She gave William a wink, then took off down the quiet morning street at a good pace, leaving him to follow in her dust.

They arrived quickly at the park, which did have a set of bridle paths, though they were considerably tamer than the grasslands Fred had ridden across as a teenager in Texas. Still, they were enough to get up a bit of speed, and she and William found each other riding next to one another a brisk trot, enjoying the feel of the wind on their faces.

Or rather, Fred hoped William was enjoying himself. He did seem to be having some trouble adjusting the different style of saddle. There simply seemed to be so much more of it than the small English saddle he had always used before.

"What on earth do they need this thing for?" he said, pointing to the horn.

"That's supposed to be where a rope would go," Fred explained. "That way a cowboy would always have a lasso ready to rope a stray cow."

William looked at it uncertainly. "Well, I suppose on the other side of the world it might have a function, but here it's just plain awkward. Who ever heard of putting a handle on a horse?"

Fred giggled at the way he put it, but promptly stopped laughing as a tree branch they had both ignored due to their conversation whacked William squarely in the chest and knocked him cleanly out of his saddle and onto the ground.

"William!" Fred cried in alarm, dismounting so quickly that she got the hem of her dress caught under her shoe in the stirrup and fell herself, landing directly on top of William with a loud "Ooof!" from both of them.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yes, except for my dignity," he said, stretching his sore back. "Are you quite alright?"

"Pretty much. Just a bruise or two," Fred said. "Uh, William? Don't look now, but you're beneath me."

The two of them remained exactly where they were, Fred half-laying on top of William, and William's arm resting lightly around her waist where it had automatically sprung when she had fallen. William was blushing rose red, but he couldn't imagine wanting to move from the spot. For once in his life, a girl wasn't laughing or calling him a fool. She didn't care that he wrote bad poetry or that his jacket elbows were patched. She was simply looking down at him through long lashes, her brown eyes filled with warmth. Cautiously, as though afraid she might disappear into smoke, William moved his arm slowly up her back until it was tangled in the curls at the base of her neck, then guided her face down to his.

The kiss was soft, sweet, gentle, everything he had hoped it would be, and she wasn't pulling away from him or slapping him or any of the nightmares he had had about kissing her. Her eyelashes fluttered lightly against his cheek, and he could believe the warmth of her.

Fred, for her part, was all but ready to hire a marching band and declare a national holiday to celebrate William finally getting up the nerve to kiss her. She'd been hoping for this moment for weeks now, and she was happy to find out that he was every bit as good a kisser as she had thought he would be.

Eventually, their lips separated, and William gave Fred's forehead a light kiss before she laid her head back on his chest.

"I'd no idea," he whispered softly. "Everything else, the girls I'd thought I cared for, all of it, they pale in comparison to you. Fred, I love you."

"That's sweeter than any poetry I've ever read," Fred said, lifting her head up to look into his eyes, practically swimming in the blue depths. "And I feel the same. I love you, William."

"My love," he crooned over and over, dropping soft kisses on her face. "My beautiful love. My fiery one. My darling of utter perfection…"

Just as it seemed William was on the verge of an explosion of bad poetic endearments, Dodgy chose that particular moment to steal Fred's bonnet from her head and run away with it down the path.

"Stupid horse!" William yelled, but he had to laugh as the two of them chased the horse, managing to rescue the hat before it was eaten. "Your chapeau, my lady," he said, whisking it back onto her head.

"Thanks," Fred said, trying to straighten it. "Now, what were we doing before Dodgy here interrupted us?"

"Oh, do let me think," William said, putting a finger to his chin and pretending to consider the matter carefully. "I recall riding and then falling…"

"Is that all?" Fred smirked.

"Falling head over heels in love," William said, grinning, then gave her a quick kiss before offering a hand up to her saddle. "As much as I'd like to extend this lovely day, I'm afraid I promised Alfred I'd return his horses to him by one, and time is getting away from us."

Regretfully, Fred and William rode back to the Gordon home, where William took his leave to return their horses to their owner. As Fred went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea, a habit that was quickly growing into an obsession for her, she was greeted by Anne, who was just taking the kettle off the fire.

"Did you enjoy your ride, my dear?" asked Mrs. Gordon with a knowing smile.

"Yup," Fred said as she took the teacups down from a shelf near the sink. They were the same ones she had managed to overturn on her first day there, and William and she had spent a Sunday evening carefully gluing handles back on and making them relatively waterproof again. "We had a real nice time."

Anne continued to smile as Fred started to blush.

"I've got a problem," Fred finally said, sitting down at Anne's feet and handing her a cup.

Anne said nothing, but poured the tea into the cups carefully, waiting for Fred to tell her what was on her mind. Fred fidgeted on the threadbare hearthrug, her arms and legs suddenly seeming awkward and gangly as they often did when she was trying to find the right words to explain a situation.

"I'm in love with your son," she finally blurted out.

Anne sighed in relief. "I'm extremely glad to hear it, Winifred," she said, putting a hand under her chin and raising the girl's face to her. "I liked you from the first moment I saw you, and I believe the same could be said for my son, only moreso. He's had a series of disappointments of the heart, and I'm happy to find that his feelings are returned at last, and by one worthy of him."

Fred hugged the woman impetuously, succeeding in breaking the teacups yet again in the process.

"Oh, sorry m'am!" Fred apologized as she tried to gather the broken bits. "I didn't mean to…"

"That's more than alright," Anne said, dismissing the mess with a wave of her hand. "Now, I feel that this was not the problem you wished to discuss. At least, I don't see a problem in what you've said."

"No," Fred said quickly. "William and I have told each other how we feel, but…"

"It's your home, isn't it?" Anne said, reading the thought in the girl's face.

"Yeah," Fred said, staring into the fire. "I love William, really, but I miss my family and my friends and, well, my world."

"I can see that you would," Anne said.

"I don't think I can ever get home. I've even drafted out some plans for a possible inter-chronological teleportation device, but none of them are even vaguely feasible," Fred said wringing her hands in awkwardness. "But if I ever did find a way to get home, I do know one thing. I'd be the only one who could go."

"You'd have to leave William behind you," Anne said, understanding. "I see. So you must make a choice: your world or your heart. I don't envy you the decision. But you are certainly the only one who can make it. I beg only this of you. If you believe that you will someday leave, please don't hurt my son."

"I know," Fred agreed. "I never intended it to go this far, but when we kissed today…"

"You kissed?" Anne said, slightly shocked.

"Oh, um, probably breaking the rules of propriety again, aren't I?" Fred said, her nose wrinkling at her own slip. "Whoops."

Anne blinked and got herself another cup, filled it with tea, and drank it extremely quickly, followed by another cup that soon followed it.

"Yes, I believe I've recovered now," she muttered quietly to herself. "What you and William choose to do is quite your own affair, and as William told you, he has never lied to me. He, and you as well, needn't feel you must tell me everything, though, either."

Fred winced, but Anne patted her hand comforting as William entered the room, and the usual evening stew was ladled out.