Disclaimer: Joss, not me, owns Dawn, Buffy, Xander, Willow, their mothers, their cousins, they're half-brothers, their mom's sister's boyfriend's mother, and Spike.(despite my wishes to the contrary) Reviews: please Distribution: Just tell me
Looking around, Dawn could tell she definitely wasn't in Kansas anymore. There were no cars, there were horse drawn carriages. Her jeans made her feel extremely out of place compared to the surrounding women's dresses. She managed to hide in the shadows near a house so she could think. Where the hell am I? Was her only rational thoughts. She didn't even know how she got there. One minute she's talking to Spike and the next. poof. gone. here.

"Who are you?" Dawn heard behind her. She gasped and turned around. A frail old woman stood behind her. She was a sweet looking woman that reminded her of her mother. But since Dawn was on her property most likely, she didn't really know what to say.

The old woman at the strangely clothed girl in front of her. She was wearing pants of all things! She was very, very beautiful, and very scared. "Don't worry," she said, "I'm not going to hurt you." The woman looked saw the girl's large frightened eyes soften and she approached her.

"What has happened darling? Are you lost?" Dawn looked at her, trusting that she meant her no harm.

"Yes, I think so," Dawn replied. The woman looked at her sympathetically.

"Come on, then. Come inside, we'll find you some clothes. Goodness, child, what are you wearing?!" the old woman exclaimed, reaching out her hand. Dawn took it, unsure, but trusting.

The woman sounded English, as well as faint voices, so Dawn assumed she was in England somehow. She must have done some time traveling due to the excess amount of cloth on the old woman's dress. Also, the woman was so trusting. Just inviting her in? Please! Not that Dawn was complaining, but she could get hurt. It was something Joyce would have done. The thought made Dawn swell up inside.

She found her self in a huge house, like ones she read about in books. It seemed like it would have twenty bedrooms and those rooms that rich people have. like a 'drawing room' and a 'parlor'.

"Sit down, darling," the woman said, which Dawn did. "First things first. We simply must get you some attire. Who put you in that ensemble anyway?"

"I'm not sure," Dawn said, deciding to play the amnesia-ridden lost girl.

"Where's your family, child?"

"I don't know," she replied.

"Oh," the woman replied sympathetically. "You will stay here then, until your family is found."

"Oh I couldn't-"

"Nonsense," the old woman said. "London is a dangerous place. Especially for a pretty young dove like yourself." Ah ha! So she was in England. Dawn felt glad that at least she knew where she was. The woman took her hand. "Come along, darling. We must get you dressed." It was evening, so Dawn saw no reason for putting on one of those things, but she didn't want to be rude. Her thought were lost on the way up the stairs.

William walked down the streets of London. He had been so close to telling Cecily of his feelings for her, but shied away once again. He'd poured over his poems for hours to make it perfect, but it wouldn't come out right. He finally reached his house. A few more minutes and he'd be dreaming about his love where everything he wanted would be his.

He opened the door to his quiet house. His mother was usually knitting in the parlor, but he could find no one.

"Mother?" he asked. No answer. He walked into the foyer up to the staircase. "Mother?" he called upstairs.

"Ah, William!" she said. "Your home." She came down the stairs, a young woman trailing behind her.

And oh what a woman she was.

She looked younger than Cecily, about sixteen or seventeen. She had long, flowing brunette hair he had a sudden urge to touch. The two women reached the end of the stairs so he could look her in the face. It was a beautiful heart-shaped face that glowed with radiant youth and purity. Her large blue eyes were complimented with long dark lashes. Her pink lips were parted slightly. The vision of her made words of poetry much prettier than his usually flow through his head. Oh dear, was he staring?

Oh god! Oh god! Spike's human! Oh god! Spike's not turned! Oh god! This is when Spike was human! Thus was Dawn's only intelligible thoughts.