Chapter 2
“So, Buff, tell me. Are you excited to beat the Dickens out of some Victorian baddies?” Xander sat perched on a chaise lounge in Buffy’s room watching the slayer get poked and prodded with needles for her dress fitting. When she ignored his very clever joke, he thought it wise to explain, “That’s Charles Dickens, for the record.”
“Yeah, I got it, Xan,” she smiled, lifting her arm for the old woman who was draping silk around her bodice, working quickly and silently to get it finished before their departure. “You know, Giles is taking authenticity to cruel and unusual levels of pain.”
Xander shrugged. “It’s good for ya. You look nice in a dress.”
Buffy rolled her eyes good naturedly. “Yeah, well, you’d be singing a different tune if you had to wear a corset.”
“That I would,” he said with a wide eye, “a very different, very scary tune.”
“Tim Curry could pull it off. Ow,” she yelped and scowled at the unapologetic hands of the old seamstress who’d just poked her in the ribs with a needle.
“Well, Tim Curry and I are very different men. Besides, he had the cool fishnets to go with the corset.”
“Xander,” she gasped in mock surprise, “are you trying to tell me something? Do we need to find you a support group?”
Xander chuckled with a warm smile. He’d been concerned for his old friend for some time now but ever since she and Giles started preparing for this mission a few weeks ago, her old personality was slowly coming up to the surface. He had some inkling of why she was acting the way she was, and while he was concerned, it was nice to see her a bit happier. She’d been eating more, laughing at his jokes, managed to drag a comb through her hair and put on some lip gloss, actually went shopping with the slayers when they went into town, and seemed…well, like Buffy. Like how he remembered her before her life turned to shit. He’d missed her.
“God, that noise is driving me insane,” he groaned, covering his ears as the sounds of the witches’ incantations echoed through the stony walls of the abandoned castle they’d been using to provide shelter for the slayers.
“I’ve been tuning it out.” She turned around so the seamstress could work on the hem. “I can’t believe it takes a week just to open the damn portal.” That bit of news was most disappointing. She wanted to go to William now, dammit!
“You think they’re working in shifts down there? Witches gotta eat sometime.” He shook his head with a smile, noticing that she hadn’t heard a word he’d spoken.
“Is this the right color? I mean, I like cream but…does it wash me out?”
Xander looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. “I like it. Big thumbs up on the cream from Team Xander.”
Buffy smiled prettily and inspected herself in the mirror. If it didn’t take nine years to put on a single outfit from the Victorian era, she might consider wearing dresses like that more often. “You really think so?”
“I know so.” He shifted nervously in his seat for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to ask her the question that had been on his mind for days now. “Buffy?” She looked at his reflection in the mirror and tilted her head. “You aren’t um…you aren’t planning on doing something stupid, are you?”
She quickly turned around, almost knocking the poor woman at her feet over with her billowing skirts. “What are you talking about?”
“Well, it’s just that…there’s a certain vampire? Who uh…y’know…might not be a vampire where you’re going?” At Buffy’s downcast stare, Xander knew his suspicions were right. “I knew it! You’re going to try and find him, aren’t you?”
“So what if I am? Why should you care?”
“Because…Buffy, I’ve watched enough time travel movies to know that this could be of the seriously bad. What if he never gets turned because of you and then everything that happened at the Hellmouth…well, doesn’t happen?! You could seriously be screwing up the mojo of the universe by even thinking of meeting him.”
Buffy’s eyes started burning with the familiar pangs of oncoming tears but she was tired of hiding them from everyone, tired of blinking away the emotions that she’d swallowed so many times for their benefit. This was her one chance, her only hope of ever seeing the man she loved and yet again, her friends were trying to talk her out of it. “I just want to see him, Xan. Just one more time. Don’t you understand that?”
“Yeah, I do,” he said softly, instantly thinking of Anya. “More than you know. But Buffy, he’s not Spike. He’s some Victorian goody goody and while that image is kinda funny and I wish I had a camera for it, I don’t think you realize what you’re getting yourself into. That William doesn’t know you. Who’s to say he’ll even feel the same way,” he trailed off, not wanting to state the obvious. Buffy knew what he meant.
“Xander, I have to try,” she said as tears streamed down her cheeks. “He died never knowing how much I loved him.” Xander looked shocked and she wiped at her eyes angrily. “Yeah, Xander. I love Spike. Love, love, love, love him! And he never knew. I hid it from him, hid it from my friends, hid it from myself because I was a coward. I was afraid that loving him meant that there was something wrong with me.”
“Buff…”
“No, Xander, I don’t want to hear about it. I don’t want to hear how he’s evil and a vampire and a demon and God, I’m just so tired,” she daintily dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, not even realizing that her pinkie was extended. The hours and hours of training were starting to pay off whether she realized it or not.
“I was going to say,” he started slowly, “that I understand why you love him. He might have annoyed me to death, but deep down, possibly very, very deep down, he was a good guy. I get that now. I do. And I know you want to see him and you’ve worked it out in your head that somehow, it’ll make everything better. But Buffy, you’re looking for more heartache this way. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Nothing can hurt me anymore than I already do right now, Xander,” she said with a sad expression and turned back towards the mirror, abruptly ending the conversation. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have seven more dresses to be altered and I need to change.”
He sighed and stood up, standing behind her for a long moment as if he wanted to say something else. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and she turned around to face him, slightly annoyed. “I wish I could take it all away, Buffy. I just want you to be happy.”
She nodded sadly and embraced him. “I know, Xan. Me too.”
“Tell bleach boy the whelp still wants that 20 bucks he stole off him.”
She giggled as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks, glad that he understood, that he was on her side. “Only twenty?”
He smiled over her shoulder and squeezed her waist before pulling away. “Yeah, I gave him a free pass for the other times on account of his saving the world and all.”
She placed one gloved hand on his cheek and smiled. “Thank you.”
He waved a hand dismissively, embarrassed about all this heart-to-heart sharing. “Don’t make me blush. It offsets the eye patch.” He walked backwards to the door and said, “Get yourself all prettied up and knock him dead. Well, not dead-dead, but stunned-dead. If he doesn’t fall in love with you again, he’s an idiot and I’ll go back in time and personally kick his ass…especially since I could now,” he added as an afterthought, “what with him being a mere mortal.”
She grinned and watched him leave, feeling hopeful, excited that maybe things weren’t as bad as they seemed. And then she yelped as the old woman poked her in the ass with a needle.
“You’re an evil little thing, aren’t you?”
“No time for talking. Put on the next dress,” she said coldly and folded her arms across her chest.
“Sorry,” she drawled with a frown and started working on the buttons of her gown.
* * *
“Now remember what we went over,” Giles said authoritatively as he adjusted his ascot. It was weird that he looked like the same person, even though he was wearing breeches, an overcoat and top hat. The look fit him, somehow.
“Yes, Giles,” Buffy said excitedly, “No talking unless I’ve been addressed. In fact, no talking at all if I can handle it.”
He smiled with mirth. “Precisely. I know that might be difficult for you, but it would be best.”
“Are you sure I can’t speak?” She said in a terrible British accent.
“Oh, do stop that,” he grimaced. “You’re my American charge, Buffy.”
“Elizabeth,” she corrected with a pointed lace covered finger high in the air. They’d agreed that Buffy wouldn’t be a fitting name for that time and decided that her birth name would suffice.
“Oh yes,” he smiled, “how could I forget? The first course of action will be to go to the Watcher’s Council. They will set us up with a place to stay once we’ve gone through the tests to prove who we are, hopefully.”
“Hopefully? You mean this might not work?”
“In the event that it doesn’t, we must prepare ourselves for the worst case scenario. If that should happen and they don’t believe we are who we say we are, then we’ll have to rent a room for the duration of our stay and locate the urn ourselves.”
“What does this urn do?”
“It’s a holding vessel. Without it, we’re looking at—”
“Another apocalypse,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
“Actually, no. Unfortunately, it will only work once the apocalypse has begun. Assuming that everything goes according to plan and we have the urn, we won’t suffer too much damage.”
“Oh, well in that case,” Buffy said warily as she followed after him. “Yay, apocalypse?”
Rupert and Buffy walked down a long corridor to where the witches had been stationed for the last week. They were almost finished with the spell to open the portal and the two of them went to stand in position as they waited for the incantations to finish. “You do look stunning, Elizabeth,” Giles said with a fatherly smile.
“Thank you, Mr. Giles,” she beamed, twirling a bit in her powder pink silk frock. She was really getting used to the idea of lace gloves and kid boots and even spent hours in front of the mirror learning how to style her hair. She’d forgotten how much fun it was to be a girl and primp and preen, even if it did take much longer to get ready now than it ever had before she was a slayer. But she relished the feel of being feminine and even carried herself with a certain air, floating around like royalty and batting her eyelashes. The Slayerettes were constantly giggling, especially since she taught the last weapons training class in full Victorian gear. She’d have to get used to it eventually. Who knew what sorts of things they’d run into?
She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the portal to open. Their luggage, containing their clothing and a few weapons, was laying at the ready so they could chuck it through the portal and jump in. Giles sat calmly on his trunk and inspected his pipe.
“You smoke?” she asked, glad for the distraction.
He popped the pipe into his mouth and smiled. “No, but doesn’t it look dashing?”
She giggled and smoothed down the front of her dress. Suddenly a small ball of light appeared and the witches chanted louder. Buffy gasped and her eyes grew wide with anticipation, her gloved hand gripping the handle of her trunk tightly, her heart pounding in her chest. Come on, come on! The light started to increase in size, swirling with a myriad of colors and humming with magic. Buffy couldn’t wait anymore, couldn’t stand to be in this time for one more second. She was chewing on her lips and fidgeting nervously, thinking of nothing but William, of seeing him again, and without waiting for the go-ahead, she tossed in her trunk and leapt through the portal.
Giles called out to her, but she was already gone, and so was the portal. “Dammit!” He tossed his top hat onto the floor in defeat. “Damn, damn, damn! You impatient…damn!”
“Uh oh,” Willow said weakly, clutching her forehead as the exhaustion of days upon days of chanting finally caught up with her body.
“Uh oh?” Giles said incredulously. “There is no ‘uh oh’ allowed in time travel! What do you mean, ‘uh oh’? Put the portal back so I can catch up with her!”
“I can’t,” she said nervously, “Buffy jumped through before I could finish the spell. It’ll take another week to open up another portal. And even if I did open one, there’s no telling what’s happened to her.”
Giles paled and slumped down on his trunk. “What has happened, Willow?”
“I-I don’t know,” she said with a sheepish grin. “Well, she’s definitely there, but…she might not be Buffy. I-I mean, she’s Buffy but…she may not know that she is. Time travel’s kinda tricky like that. She jumped before I finished binding her memories to her body…she may not know who she is. At all.”
“Shit,” Giles cursed, which wasn’t typical. But he was royally pissed, and concerned, and worried, and, “Take a break and then get back on that portal. If she doesn’t know who she is, if somehow she’s been damaged…I have to find her. There’s no telling what they’ll do to her.”
* * *
Somewhere in London, England 1878
She blinked rapidly, eyes darting around to claim purchase on her surroundings as her lungs struggled to take in air. The first thing she noticed was that she must have fallen, as she was on all fours on an expanse of grass. The second thing was that her head was pounding and it hurt to stand but somehow she managed to. Dusting the dirt off her gloves she looked around, a bit frightened that she had no idea where she was. There were many trees around her, indicating that she was in a forest or some secluded area in the middle of nowhere. She took a step forward and winced as her shin made contact with a rather large trunk. It was incredibly large, too large for her to carry but it had the initials ‘E.S.’ engraved along the side. Were those her initials? She didn’t know.
She opened the trunk and saw a series of gowns and garments and after looking at her own attire, she thought it must be hers. She quickly shut the trunk and sat on top of it, desperately trying to remember anything that would give her some sort of clue as to why she was here in this strange place or how she’d gotten there. Her chest started heaving shakily as her fear consumed her and tears streamed down her cheeks. What was this strange place and what was she going to do? The most frightening thought of all was that she had no idea who she even was.
She gasped when she heard the clomping of horse hooves and realized there must be a road nearby. Perhaps the rider could help her, could at least take her someplace or give her some answers as to where she was. Grabbing the handle of the trunk and expecting to use all her strength to tow it, she was surprised to find that it was extremely light and she was able to lift it without any problem at all. Without wasting any time thinking on that subject, she ran as fast as she could, following the sound of the rider as she grew closer to the road. Once she came to the clearing, she dropped the heavy trunk with an oomph and leaned forward on it, holding her ribs as a sharp pain sliced through her. The rider was coming closer, slowing and steadying his horse as he drew near.
She cried out to him, shouting, but there was no sound. She clutched her throat and tried again with a bit more conviction, and still, nothing. What was happening? She couldn’t speak, didn’t know where she was, who she was, and she was so frightened and frustrated that she started crying and sank to her knees, trembling with heavy sobs.
“Miss? Are you all right?” She heard the rider speak to her, but she couldn’t look up, couldn’t calm the raging emotions that were consuming her. She heard him dismount his horse and walk towards her carefully, a gasp, and then a warm hand was on her shoulder, forcing her to look up, look into a pair of gentle, piercing blue eyes. “What happened to you, love?”
There was a flash of something there, something familiar but she couldn’t place it. His eyelashes fluttered as he inspected her disheveled state and then they grew wide with concern. “Oh, my…you’re bleeding.”
She was slightly hypnotized by the silken tone of his voice for a moment until his words registered. She removed the hand that was wrapped around her ribs and gasped when she noticed her white lace glove was soaked in blood. It must have happened in the fall…
“What’s your name, Miss?” He spoke so softly to her, as if he didn’t want to cause her any more distress. She blinked frantically and tried to speak, but again, she failed to utter a sound. Luckily he seemed to understand her dilemma and he crouched down beside her and looked behind him at his horse. “Best leave your trunk here an’ we’ll return for it later. You need to see the doctors. Think you’ll be all right riding?”
She swallowed and nodded shyly, blushing when he smiled at her. He was very handsome and was being so kind to her. He struggled with the trunk to move it off the road and she wondered why it was so easy for her to lift it when this man, who obviously was well built, could barely push it aside. Perhaps it was adrenaline aiding her. Suddenly he was at her side again, extending his hand to help her right herself.
“I’ll have to help you onto the horse,” he said nervously, as if she’d be offended by the thought of him touching her. She just smiled and looked up at him through her eyelashes. She was so scared before but just a few moments in his presence were setting her at ease. She felt safe somehow, felt that he would help her sort this madness out. “Right then, uh…I-I’ll just,” he fidgeted for a minute, scratching his head as he tried to figure out the best way to get her on the horse without causing further damage to her injury. When she swayed on her heels as she began to feel faint, he immediately went into action and scooped her into his arms and lifted her onto the horse. In seconds, he was behind her on the saddle. He situated her to sit astride the horse, her side against his chest and placed one arm around her back to hold her steady.
“Comfortable?” he said with a cautious grin and she smiled back, even though she was starting to feel weak. “You just hang on there, pet. We’ll be home in no time.” He grabbed the reins and eased the horse into a slow canter. She fell limp against him, resting her nose in the column of his throat and felt his body tense against her, but he made no move to adjust her position. He smelled fantastic!
“My um,” he said clearing his throat, “my name is William Pratt, by the way. I-in case you were wondering,” he trailed off with uncertainty. She felt his pulse thrumming beneath his neck, strong and quick, unlike the slow movement of the horse beneath them. Before she could answer, even if she could, she grew weaker, her body sinking into his as her eyes fell shut and darkness took over.