Thank you to Angel sumoritos, Mikki and WhiteDragonWolf, for reviewing. We hope we haven't lost too many of you with the long wait between chapters, we'll try to get better in the future. A very special thank you to Im bloody English for your big help with the William part, it made all the difference. :D

In this chapter: Giles and Spike have a conversation, Spike visits Joyce and a little more on William.

Chapter IX

At Giles' apartment

Still not fully awake after his afternoon nap, Giles walked down the stairs of his apartment and almost had a heart attack when he realized that he wasn't alone.

"Well, well, it seems that not only we vampires like taking a nap during the day," Spike commented after noticing the sleepy expression the Watcher wore, as he sat comfortably on the armchair that had been his bed up until a few days before.

"Huh? Spike... how..." Giles attempted to ask, but he was hindered by a big yawn.

"It's sunset. You didn't revoke the invite. And you also left a window open," Spike explained patiently, pointing at the window in question. "So, what, do you need more clues to decipher what happened?" he added, in a teasing tone that pissed the Watcher off.

"What the hell do you want, Spike?" he snapped, totally awake by then.

"A cup of tea won't be enough this time. I'm here for my hard-earned cash and you should know better. We have a deal, remember?"

"Unfortunately I do." He rolled his eyes. "But first tell me, how was patrol last night? Did you meet any dangerous demons?" he wondered.

"The Slayer didn't tell you anything yet then?"

"Please, don't even mention her to me. I swear I don't know what to do with that girl anymore. She was supposed to bring me the letters this morning and she didn't even come or call. I fell asleep waiting for her! I wonder what she keeps thinking about to be so absent-minded!" the man grumbled.

'Oh, maybe I know...' Spike thought with a satisfied smile that quickly turned into a confused frown when he recalled something Giles had mentioned before.

"Huh? Letters? What letters are you talking about? And why do you have to see them?" Spike got more and more curious.

"It's sort of a long story, but the important part is that she got an antique desk from her mother's gallery and it seems that she has been able to exchange letters with a man from the past through it... anyway, it's not of your business! And now tell me about last night's patrol."

Spike made a mental note about finding more about that issue, maybe Joyce could help him in that. He didn't like at all the thought of Buffy…er, the Slayer, exchanging love letters—because he had the odd certainty that they weren't of any other kind—with a perfect stranger.

"Uh, right. Well, there weren't any bloody Frakor-dudes or any other kind of dangerous demons; matter of fact, there was not even a demon in sight all night."

"So, you did nothing...""Quite the contrary! Let's say that I took advantage of the quiet night to make her realize that things weren't as calm as they seemed... to help her improve her reflexes, you know?" he justified, thinking about his joke.

"Well, I guess that's a good move, her reflexes need some training." Giles nodded in agreement.

If just a couple of years ago someone had told him that one day Spike, a Master Vampire, feared killer of two Slayers, would be discussing with him about the strategies to improve the abilities of his Slayer, he would have laughed in that person 's face, but now... oh God, he could believe that anything was possible!

"Yes, and I... well, I also tested how she reacts to... er... unexpected situations. And I really liked how she reacts, by the way." He sneered, very pleased with himself. "You know what? I liked it so much that, on second thought, I won't take your money this time. It's on the house. Bye, Rupert, see you around!" Spike said, and remembering that he had a much more important appointment that evening, he turned around and got out of the apartment, leaving a very confused and puzzled Giles wondering what the hell had that been about.

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At the Gallery

"Oh, good, you're finally here. I was starting to think that Buffy had lied to me and hadn't told you to meet me here," Joyce said as soon as she saw Spike come into the gallery.

"No, she did tell me; I'm sorry if I'm a bit late," he apologized, lowering his head bashfully.

"Well, don't worry, you're here now. Come with me, I have some pretty things to show you," she informed him, leading him into another room.

"You do realize that, due to the simple fact that it's pretty, I will never ever like that stuff?" he pointed out.

"Believe me, Macho-Man, once you see what I have to show you, I bet you'll adore it!" she answered, with a knowing smirk.

And true enough, after just twenty minutes, the very 'macho' vampire was enumerating all the ways in which he could arrange his crypt with all the pretty furniture that Joyce had very patiently showed him, while she listened to him with a big smile of victory in her face that he was too engrossed to see.

"This armchair is at least ten times better than mine and will fit perfectly in my room. And that small table over there could be pretty useful, too, I could put it near the armchair, so I can put my blood over it while I watch TV," Spike commented with a pleased smile, but then he frowned when he noticed the disgusted face that Joyce had made after his last sentence. "Oh, I'm sorry, that was a little too much information, wasn't it?" he added sheepishly.

"Yes, dear, and I'd really prefer if you don't share that with me. I know you're a vampire, but there's no need to remind me like that, okay?" she replied calmly, smiling to Spike as he nodded. If it weren't for the vampire's off-handed comments every once in a while, she could almost forget what he was whenever they talked. Then again, who could blame her for wanting to imagine that her hopefully-very-soon daughter's boyfriend was as normal as he could be? "Anyway, no matter how strong you are, I think that even with your vampiric strength it could be a problem to take all this stuff home."

"Yes, it's quite a lot, but I can manage, little bit by little bit."

"What if I send some of my employees with the furniture to your cemetery tomorrow around sunset, hmm?" she suggested. "You could meet them at the gate and guide them to your crypt and they could even help you to put everything in place."

"Oh, that's brilliant. But won't your employees be a little bit puzzled when you send them to a cemetery?" Spike wondered.

"Oh, don't worry about that. My employees do whatever I ask them to do without any questions," she stated.

"Alright, then. Well, I have no words to thank you. You've always treated me like I'm a person and not just a monster."

"That's because you are a person, darling, it's just that sometimes you wear yellow eyes and sharper teeth, that's all." She smiled at him.

"Joyce, you know it's at times like this when you remind me most of my mother," he said, smiled adoringly at her.

"I know, honey. Plus, I give you furniture for free and I make the best hot chocolate in Sunnydale and its vicinities. So, wouldn't that also made me the perfect mother-in-law?" She smirked, mentally crossing her fingers hoping he would take the bait.

"Yes, you would definitely be... Hey. Wait a minute. WHAT? Calm down, what the bloody hell are you blathering about?" he snapped.

"Watch your language, William!" Joyce scolded him.

"Uh, right. I'm sorry, ma'am. Anyway, I don't know what Buffy told you, but you're unquestionably getting the wrong idea here. Okay, so Buffy and I kissed, but that doesn't mean any—"

"OH MY GOD! You two kissed!" the woman squealed in delight.

Spike's eyes almost bulged out as his face morphed into a terrified expression. "Didn't you..." He cleared his throat, not sure how he had gotten into this mess. "Didn't she tell you about that?"

"She kind of did, but she made it seem like it was just a joke. That little liar... so, there was some truth in that then," Joyce mumbled almost to herself as a big, satisfied smile bloomed in her lips.

'Right. So now the Slayer will have one more reason to kill me,' the vampire thought and immediately after he looked down at his crotch in a threatening way. 'And don't even dare to find that exciting!' he scolded himself, or rather a certain part of his anatomy, and then he turned his attention back to Joyce.

"Please, stop that, I know that smile. You shouldn't be happy about that. I'm Buffy's mortal enemy!" he tried to reason with her.

"Mortal enemies don't kiss each other!" she answered, her smile never wavering.

'Touché!' he observed silently, rolling his eyes to himself.

"I knew that sooner or later you would end up together. And to know that Buffy is with you assures me that she's safe..."

"Argh! No, take that back, take that back! You're killing me here!" he answered, deeply disappointed that Joyce seemed to have such a high opinion of him. Had she forgotten that he was evil? E. V. I. L. As in someone that couldn't be trusted, let alone considered as perfect boyfriend material for the Slayer. "Once and for all, I'm not the knight in shining armor you seem to think I am. I'm not the kind of guy mothers desire to see their daughters dating. You know, back on the good old times, whenever I dated a girl, her mother would saw them come back a few days later... in pieces..." He interrupted himself when he noticed Joyce's raised eyebrow. "Okay, you caught me, I usually disposed of them as quickly and as painlessly as I could, the 'sending them back in pieces to their mothers' was more Angelus' style. But that doesn't mean anything, I'm still evil!"

"But don't you see? Despite your evil nature, you didn't drag on your victims' suffering unnecessarily or torture them, even if you had the means to do it, you chose not to. And added to all that, it seems that you just gave me one more reason to dislike Angel, not that I needed it or anything, he'd done a pretty good job of that all by himself," Joyce explained, with a wink.

"And it seems that I have one more reason to adore you, Joyce!" Spike grinned at her. "But that doesn't mean that I adore your daughter, too, quite the contrary!" he rushed to add.

"Believe me, I think you do, you just haven't realized it yet or if you have you just haven't accepted it," Joyce said. "Anyway, I have another reason why I'd like you two to be together." She smiled inwardly when she noticed that Spike didn't voice his objection again. "I think that will help to take Buffy's mind off from that mysterious man from the past," she added.

"You're talking about the one she is exchanging letters with, aren't you?"

"How do you know about that?" she asked surprised.

"Well, Giles told me something about that, but not everything. And now I'd really like to hear everything you know about this mysterious guy," he asked politely.

"How about this? I'll tell you all I know about him, if first you tell me what happened last night in patrol. And no jokes!" Joyce summoned him.

"Deal, I'll tell you what happened, but you must promise you won't ask me no further questions about this after I finish," he replied.

"Deal."

And so, they began exchanging their precious information.

----------

A little while later

"... and then she ran away, as if nothing had happened. And that's fine by me, because no matter what it was that made us kiss, I can absolutely assure you that it won't happen again," he finished, with what he hoped had been certainty lacing his voice, even when he was the first one who doubted his own words.

'Especially when I still feel her soft and sweet lips gliding over mine, when I still can taste her kisses, when I can recall how eagerly and passionately she responded to my kisses and my caresses, how her lower lip felt as I nibbled on it, so bitable and… oh, bloody hell, you're definitely not helping yourself here, mate!' Spike admonished himself, he had to stop with this train of thought now if he wanted Joyce to actually believe in anything he'd been saying and judging by the disbelieving looks she was throwing him, she wasn't buying his 'it won't happen again' speech. Time to change gears and distract the attention from himself or else he'd find himself in deeper problems that he was already in.

"Well, I'm done. Now it's your turn," he exhorted her, hoping she wouldn't back out from her promise of not asking any more questions.

"All right." She took a big breath, shifting in her seat. "It started about a week ago, Buffy was helping me unload some boxes here at the gallery and when we came into one of the rooms she saw an antique desk and begged me to give it to her. She was very convincing, so I agreed to give it to her. It turned out that the desk had a secret panel with two drawers on it and in one of them she found an envelope with a letter inside, supposedly written in 1880, by the desk's former owner, an Englishman called William...er, something, sorry, I don't seem to recall what his last name is." Joyce shrugged.

"Don't worry, I don't think I want to know anyway," Spike answered a little too evenly, his knuckles whitened by the strength with which he was holding the chair he occupied. How dare the little twerp have the same name that he had? Not that he cared, nope, not a bit.

"So, Buffy found a poem along with the letter in the secret drawer ..." Joyce continued.

At the word 'poem' Spike jolted, tuning Joyce out for a minute. 'It couldn't be, could it? Nah, that'd be too much of a coincidence,' he thought, reminding himself that there must have been at least hundreds of William's throughout the years that had entertained the idea of being poets and anyway, wouldn't he remember it if he'd been the same William? No one could forget something like that, could they?

'No, they couldn't,' he answered to himself, already hating this mysterious William guy more than he ever thought possible for stealing Buffy's attention away from him.

"She was so mesmerized by the romanticism of the letter and the poem, that she had the crazy idea to respond to it, not that she thought he would actually get it, she was so moved by his words that she couldn't help herself," Joyce explained.

'Bloody lucky guy, at least there are some poets whose work is appreciated by someone,' Spike thought morosely, grieving a little bit at the thought that his work had never been appreciated like that.

Joyce noticed his immediate change of mood. "Are you okay?" she asked him, concerned.

"Huh? Yes, it's nothing important, please, go on." He shrugged, trying to act nonchalantly as he reined in the feelings of jealousy and self-doubt that were growing within him with each word Joyce uttered.

"So, she put the letter in the same drawer where she had found his... and then the most astonishing thing happened, when she decided to retrieve her letter and destroy it, she found another letter, this time addressed to her! So, she answered and again she found another letter of his the next day. It seems that the drawer is some sort of time machine that has allowed them to communicate through time, but I'm not completely sure if it's a good thing. That's why I told Buffy that she should tell Rupert about the desk and the letters, I think this whole thing should be investigated carefully," she commented."Why? Do you think that there is a demon behind all this stuff?" Spike wondered.

"Who knows? It could be anything. Anyway, William seems like a nice guy... but I don't know, there's something about all this that I don't like, I just can't trust him or whatever is happening," Joyce admitted.

"You know what? I don't trust him either, so I think I'd better keep an eye on Buffy..." Spike commented, arousing Joyce's hope. "Mostly because Rupert pays me for it, it's not because I care, of course!" he added immediately after, not fooling Joyce for even a second. "So, where is she now? At her dorm?" he asked.

"She's home. Since she got that desk she hardly leaves her room," Joyce informed him.

"Uhmm... good to know..." he mumbled through gritted teeth. He'd have to investigate this matter further. It wouldn't do that the Slayer got all interested in this William bloke, who knew what type of man he was! Not that he cared, not really or maybe just a bit? He just wanted to make sure that Rupert kept paying him for taking care of the Slayer, nothing to do with the fact that he was insanely jealous of a man that most likely was dead and buried by now.

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London, 1880

William felt…perplexed. He'd been wandering about for hours, too distraught to even think of returning home. He wasn't sure what was happening to him or why or even if he liked the person who he seemed to be turning into. Never before had he reacted towards anyone, especially a lady, like he'd done today with Cecily Addams... of all people.

Up until last week he'd been hopelessly in love with her. But now? Now there was Elizabeth, not that that provided him with any hope. The fact that some one hundred and odd years separated them meant there was no chance of them ever meeting face to face. But one hundred plus years had no bearing on the undeniable connection between them; a connection that he and Cecily… He snorted, than he ever dreamed of achieving with her. He'd always been little more than nothing to Cecily, just someone that she knew would drop at her feet and adore her if she so much as glanced his way.

Good Lord, but he'd been a fool. But never again, not ever, not even if there were no chance of him ever meeting Elizabeth. Bloody hell, he didn't even know what she looked like. Didn't matter either. Somehow, in his heart, he knew that she could easily become, if she hadn't yet already, the one person he could love more than life itself; the one person he'd bravely defy every law of science, of nature, of God even, for one chance to see her... just once. If only for a minute, a second... anything that he could get, he knew that if they could meet, she would complete him, make him a better man. He would willingly do anything and everything within his power, if only he knew what is was to bring about that turn of events.

Logically he knew that it should be impossible that any of this could actually happen, but then again, if anyone had told him a few days before that he'd be corresponding with a lady that hadn't even been born yet, he probably would have thought that person needed to be committed and locked up in a mental hospital for life.

Nothing he'd experienced so far, could have ever prepared him for the bittersweet reality of knowing that there could be someone he could feel so strongly for, of knowing that this person might actually return his feelings and realizing that she was almost as unreachable as Cecily Addams had once been for him. Almost, because it wasn't that Elizabeth didn't care for him, she did, he knew it in his heart. It was just a matter of finding a way so they could be together and he wouldn't rest until he found one. If a desk could be used to send letters back and forth in time, shouldn't there be some way he could be sent into the future?

Odd, ever since he read Faust for the first time, he'd always wondered how Goethe's could have come up with the notion of anyone wanting to sell their soul to the Devil in exchange of anything. Now he understood. He would do it in a heartbeat; live out eternal damnation in exchange for being sure that there was a way he could meet his Elizabeth.

He was so lost in thought that he never saw the woman he bumped into, not that he saw her much after he did. He muttered an, "Excuse me," before continuing on his way. The woman noticed him however, and smiled as her beloved stars sang to her what the young man had been so preoccupied with.

tbc