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Forward to Time Past	By : UnbridledBrunette Category: > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 3754 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
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Chapter Ten

After Christmas, the days passed quietly, cold and grey. Monotonous. She rose at dawn, dressed before the fire, went to Anne�s room to help her dress, and then went down to breakfast. After breakfast there were hours in the parlor while Anne crocheted or worked at her needlepoint. She had tried to teach Buffy how to do this also, but quickly gave up once it became apparent that her nurse had not the temperament for such domestic work. Instead, Buffy was allowed to read, mornings. Or pretend to read. She did sit in her chair with a book in her lap, but rarely did she actually read it. Most of the time, she stared out the window, dazed and bored. Or worried. Now that the holidays were over, it seemed to her that time had sped up: minutes, hours, and days racing by too quickly to count. Yet there was no sign from home. No sign at all that her friends knew where she was; no sign that they were looking for a way to bring her home. She tried not to think about it, but there was little else to think about here. So little to think about, in fact, that she often found her mind circling over this idea obsessively in spite of her best efforts not to.

Perhaps if she had a group of people to distract her then she would more easily be able to keep her mind out of these frightening channels. In her own time, she had Willow, Giles, Tara, Anya, Xander, and Dawn to divert her, but here there was only William and his mother. And William was not home of a morning. He did something in the city, something merely classified as �business.� He seldom stayed away a full business day. Most of the time, he returned at noon, or just after. He did not often have anything to say for himself upon arrival, preferring to keep the lunchtime discussions light and not at all personal. He still had a hard time talking to Buffy, though each day he came to the table armed with several topics appropriate for light conversation. He still blushed a good deal and he still stuttered. Yet he was interesting to talk to, being incredibly bright and well read. Sometimes, when he forgot his bashfulness, he could be quite witty. Sharp. Like Spike�s twisted sense of humor but without the twist. Buffy would have liked him to stick around the afternoons and entertain her a bit, but he never would. After lunch, he crept upstairs to the library and closed the door, usually remaining there until dinnertime.

Buffy�s afternoons were much like the mornings. The endless sitting in the parlor, small talk, needlework, books�the only difference was Anne took a rest in her bed at three o�clock, and so for an hour Buffy had no one to talk to at all. On fine days, she took a walk around the garden for exercise while Anne rested; occasionally she went shopping. There were days when she had a fitting with Miss Simms and had to stand for long hours, letting the seamstress poke and prod and pin. But most days she stayed at home and just sat until Anne awoke. Then they both dressed for dinner and waited for the gong.

Usually, the time after dinner proved mildly interesting anyway, William would stay downstairs and he and his mother would talk. Sometimes he and Buffy would play chess, or sometimes she and Anne would play whist, a card game that she had a certain knack for and unlike chess, occasionally won.

He wouldn�t stop watching her and it worried her. Those eyes. God, was he falling in love with her? She�d seen enough episodes of The Twilight Zone to know that if he was then it was bad, bad news for her. Altering the past even in a minor way might change the future in some horrible, irrevocable way. It might even prevent her from getting home again. She thought at first that she would need to do something extreme to quell his growing infatuation, but she never really tried. In the first place, he was her boss. Behaving badly toward him might not just subdue his crush it might land her back in the Chapman house. But there was another reason, too; she didn�t want to hurt him. Because she liked William. Although she was not quite ready to explore the depth of that feeling just yet still there was something about him�something that drew her. His social awkwardness made it difficult for her really to get to know him. Yet there was a personal connection on some level. Certainly, it was not love at first sight. But it was real; it was there. And there was some physical pull as well. He was good-looking in a stuffed-shirt British sort of way, similar enough in appearance to Spike to draw her interest but not similar enough to make her feel icky about it. But he was so strange�definitely not a young woman�s ideal gallant hero. Not like Angel. And there was that concern about altering the future. If she toyed with William Spike might end up never existing at all, which would not be such a bad thing, really, except that it might keep other events from coming off, as well�events that might be integral in making her future what it was. She really couldn�t afford to take that risk.

There was another risk she must not take as well. After many nights of lying awake and worrying over it, Buffy had decided that she would not interfere with anything that happened to William. It was the reason she was making it a point not to slay, because she didn�t want to come across Drusilla or Darla or�God forbid�Angelus. She did not want to be faced with the difficulty of the decision that would inevitably follow. She could not kill them, any of them. To do so would screw up the timeline. William was meant to be a vampire and she must let him become that vampire. However, she knew that if she met any of the Fang Gang on the London streets they would not offer her the chance of graceful retreat. It would be a fight, one that she knew she must avoid if she was to get home.

All of this sounded very well and good, in theory�quite pragmatically Giles-ish, in fact. However, when it came time to test the theory Buffy found it rather harder going than she had expected. In fact, when it came right down to it she forgot her plan not to interfere altogether.

The real test occurred on the second day of the New Year. 1880. The year. Buffy was already a bit on edge, stressing about her lack of progress in getting home, add to that the fact that they had now entered the danger zone�the twelvemonth period in which Drusilla would most certainly spawn herself a demon�and her nerves had pretty well hit the breaking point. To make matters worse, William chose that day of all days not to come home at his customary hour. If he had been the least bit like normal people then Buffy would not have worried, but he was always so unwaveringly punctual being even a few minutes late was almost unheard of with him.

At first, Buffy pretended not to notice his absence, but when lunch was served and he still had not arrived, she finally decided to say something about it.

�I wonder what�s keeping William.�

She thought she said it in a necessarily casual way, but something in her question appeared to amuse Anne, perhaps it was her usage of William�s first name rather than the customary�and more infinitely polite�Mr. Hartley. Truly, for a servant to address the master of the house by his Christian name should warrant a reprimand, but for some reason Anne neglected to deliver it.

�Don�t fret, Elizabeth,� she said instead, her tone quite mild. �I am certain his business has kept him late. Truly, I am surprised he has been able to tear himself away so early, these past few weeks.�

This was all well and good for a little while. However, as the afternoon wore on eventually fading into a clear, cold evening, Buffy�s concern returned tenfold.

�Are you sure you shouldn�t send someone to see if he�s all right?� she asked, finally. �I mean, doesn�t he have an office they could go to or something? It�s five o�clock��

Anne answered her calmly. �No, I�m afraid he doesn�t. At any rate, we could not interrupt him in such a way while he is at his work. Something has delayed him unexpectedly, but I am sure he will be home well in time for dinner.�

But when the dinner hour came and William had yet to appear, even Anne began looking anxious.

�It is rather unlike him not to send word when he will be late,� she said fretfully. �And the night is dark as pitch and so cold. Do you think he had been plagued by some sort of accident?�

An accident named Drusilla, thought Buffy grimly.

She picked at her dinner without appetite. For all her practical decisions to the contrary, she suddenly felt very sorry that she had not warned him against traveling on his own at night. Spike might be integral to the future�or rather, to Buffy�s return to the future�but she was only beginning to realize how important William had become to her here. She had come to see him as something of a friend and the idea that he might be laying in a ditch somewhere with his throat torn out made her feel positively ill. After all, she was a Slayer. Shouldn�t she have made it her priority to protect an innocent even if that did mean risking her own chances at returning home?

She fretted silently about this as she and Anne returned to the parlor after dinner. But no comfortable evening spent playing cards was this. They sat side by side on the settee, staring at the parlor clock and jumping at small sounds. Neither of them spoke for what seemed like a long time.

When the front door finally clicked closed at half-past seven, Buffy did not follow Anne�s request that she go �see if it is he.� Instead, she sat stationary, eyes on the doorway. If Dru had turned him, he would not have risen so soon, she told herself. If Dru had turned him, he would not be coming here at all. He and the rest of the Happy Family would be off somewhere, picking off orphans. This was not like Angelus; William would have no need for vengeance against his family.

So she told herself, but she must not have really believed it because when he finally made his appearance, she felt a surge of relief that he was alone. That he was human.

�Sorry to be so late, Mother,� he murmured, as Anne flung herself into his arms. �There were some difficulties��

That was his excuse for being seven hours late? That there were some difficulties? Buffy felt her temper flare unexpectedly. When he offered her an apologetic smile as well, she turned on him furiously.

�And you couldn�t have at least sent a message that you would be gone so long?� she demanded. �Your mother has been worried to death!�

William looked taken aback, but Buffy was by no means finished with him.

�You were so concerned about Anne�s health being ruined by going to see a stupid play,� she bit out angrily. �But it never occurred to you that stressing over your sudden disappearance would do her no good? I�m surprised she�s not coughing her lungs out right now, as anxious as she�s been about your safety!�

Anne, who had not coughed once that evening, did not respond to her son�s silent plea for help. Instead, she resumed her seat and watched Buffy tear into him with a tolerant�and more than slightly amused�smile.

�I�I�I am sorry if I caused any concern,� he sputtered helplessly. �I�m sure I didn�t mean to��

�Yes, well. You did! And I�m your mother�s nurse�and I say if she comes down sick after this ordeal it will be your fault.�

�I wasn�t��

�And it�s idiotic to be running around the city by yourself in the dead of night, anyway!� she continued to rant. �You could�ve at least taken the carriage instead of going on horseback. Haven�t you been reading the newspaper? Some people were found dead in Piccadilly night before last. There are vamp�thieves�running around the city now! And cutthroats! You could have been robbed. You could have been killed! Tell him, Anne.�

But Anne merely shook her head at them genially and did not speak.

Buffy sighed with frustration. She tried to think of a suitable cutting parting line as she made for the door, but all she could come up with was, �I hope you�ve learned your lesson!�

William watched her flounce out of the room, his expression stunned.

�What on earth has happened there?�

Anne bent her head over her crocheting to hide the smile on her face. �I rather think she was worried for your safety,� she told him.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Hours later, Buffy was lying in her clothes on top of the bed, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully. She had half-expected William to follow her from the parlor, to apologize again for making her worry. When he did not she became slightly concerned. Perhaps she had finally stepped over the line of what was tolerable. Obviously, Anne was nothing to worry about; it seemed she saw the entire scene as nothing but a joke. But William�s shocked expression might be interpreted in a variety of ways. He did not seem to have much of a temper, but suppose she had hurt his feelings or offended him. While this would undoubtedly be the quickest way of discouraging his developing affections, Buffy suddenly found she did not wish to do it. As a matter of fact, the thought that she might have hurt him made her feel more upset than ever. She didn�t want to hurt him.

Long after the rest of the house was in bed, Buffy heard William�s tread on the stairs. His footfalls were slower than usual, heavier, as if he was very tired or very sad. He did not turn right at the landing in the direction of his bedroom. Buffy tensed as the sounds drew quite close�for a second she almost thought he was coming to speak with her. But no. A door creaked softly and a moment later, she heard him step inside a room across the hallway. The library, she figured.

Buffy glanced at the clock. Nearly midnight. The whole house would be asleep by now, everyone except two of them. She sat up in bed, moved by a sudden impulse to speak to him.

She didn�t give herself time to think about it and grow nervous. She slipped into her shoes, straightened her hair, and crept into the shadowy corridor. To her surprise, the small chunk of light spilling into the hallway was not coming from the library, after all. It was coming from the half-opened door of a seldom-used room some fifty feet down from the library. The music room. A second after realizing this, she heard the music drifting from inside. It was the sound of the piano being played with a great deal of skill. Buffy was surprised. She had not been aware that William could play piano; Anne had never mentioned it during all her boastings of her son�s abilities. However, a quick peep showed her that he was in there, seated before the baby grand and playing with an expertise that impressed her.

There was something sweetly plaintive in the song. The tempo was slow, but it throbbed with strong feeling. Buffy was not familiar enough with classical music to recognize the tune, but even she could hear the message conveyed therein. One of longing. It was so pretty it made her throat ache. She lingered in the doorway, listening.

When he finished and the last notes of the melody faded away, William turned suddenly to the doorway. He did it in such a way that Buffy knew he must have been aware of her presence all along. However, he did not seem angry at the invasion of his privacy. Perplexed, maybe a little self-conscious. But not angry.

�Was I�I do hope I wasn�t disturbing you,� he said. �I know it�s quite late��

Buffy shook her head. Having him stare at her like that after her earlier behavior, made her feel ashamed. She moved just inside the doorway of the music room so that she could speak to him without waking Anne, whose bedroom was nearby.

�You weren�t disturbing me. I couldn�t sleep anyway. I saw the light and I thought I should come apologize for the way I behaved earlier, yelling at you like that. I didn�t�I mean, I wouldn�t want to�to upset you or anything.�

�You have no need to apologize,� he answered softly. �I should have sent word that I would be later home than usual and I did not. I was unthinking. You had every right to be angry.�

�I wasn�t angry; I was worried.� She smiled ruefully. �Although I can see where you might have been misled what with me screaming my head off and all. I guess I don�t handle worrying too well.�

�Truly, it is all right.� He flushed and looked down before adding, �Although�it is very kind of you to concern yourself with my well being.�

Buffy had no idea how to respond to that. She cast wildly about for a less awkward topic of conversation.

�You never mentioned that you play piano, even when we were talking about music on Christmas Eve.�

�Yes, well. I only play a bit. I learned it when I was away at school.�

�You�re lucky,� said Buffy. �They didn�t teach anything like that at my school. Well, except in the marching band. But no one joined that unless they wanted to become a trumpet-toting social outcast.�

He turned his rather confused smile to the wall. �Do you like Schubert, Miss Summers?�

�I liked that. It was beautiful.� She took a step or two more, moving just close enough so that she could read the sheet music that was propped on the rack. Except that she could not read it, it didn�t appear to be in English.

William followed the line of her gaze. �St�ndchen,� he told her. �From Schubert�s Schwanengesang.�

He kept glancing at the open door and by now, Buffy was familiar enough with the rules of propriety to understand the reason why. It was not respectable for two unmarried adults of opposite gender to be in a room alone, most especially at so late an hour. Still, he didn�t ask her to leave. She remembered the expression on his face when she touched his arm and she looked at the bracelet clasped around her right wrist. Improper or not, she knew he wanted her to stay. The strange thing was that she wanted it, too.

She did not exactly move closer to the piano bench, but she did lean over to see more closely the text printed on his music sheet. Not that she had the faintest clue of what it read or even what language it was in. But it gave her an excuse to close a little bit of the gap between them. He flinched at the movement, turning on the bench to put more distance between them. She noticed but didn�t see fit to comment on it.

�What language is that?� she asked. William looked mildly surprised that she did not know.

�It�s German. The title in English is �Serenade.��

�You speak German?� He nodded and she pressed, �Do you speak any other languages?�

�Latin,� he said. �And Greek; I�m rather fond of Italian, also. I do know some French, although my accent isn�t very good.�

Her eyes followed the nervous fiddling of his hands on the piano�s wooden ledge. It was mind-boggling to her, the amount of education this man had received only to end up a gutter-slang-talking, leather clad idiot.

�Say something in German.�

�Sie sind sehr sch�n.� He said it without the slightest moment�s hesitation.

Buffy made a face. In her opinion, it was not the prettiest-sounding language in the world and this lack of appreciation kept her from knowing just how brilliantly he spoke it. �Say something in French instead,� she commanded.

This time it required a bit more thought.

�Vous �tes tr�s belle.�

�That�s prettier. What did it mean?�

William smiled. �It means�the same as it meant it German.�

And that was all he would tell her.

Buffy moved around until she was next to the bench, close enough to stroke the smooth ivory keys. She watched William watching her as she did it.

�Are you tired?� she asked suddenly. �I mean�were you planning on going to sleep soon?�

It was an incredibly unladylike question for her to ask, but William understood she meant no harm. Slowly he shook his head.

�Then do could you do another one, you think?� She tapped the top of the piano with her knuckles to show him what she meant.

�Yes,� he said.

He stood up, lifting the seat of the piano bench to reveal a cunningly hidden compartment in which were stored stacks of sheet music. He rifled through these for a moment, separated the ones he wanted, and then resumed his seat.

Buffy sat down next to him, smiling wryly when his face reddened. Every muscle in his body looked clenched tight. The piano bench was long enough there were at least two feet separating them, but this was apparently the closest he had been to a woman not his mother in�well, maybe ever. To say Spike lied about his human past was a gross understatement. The original William the Bloody had about as many predatory instincts as a bunny rabbit.

She laughed suddenly and William paused, his fingers poised over the piano�s music rack.

�Oh, I�m not laughing at you,� Buffy assured him. �I�m laughing at me. I just realized�it�s midnight and I just barged in on you and demanded you play me some music�and I never even asked if you�d like company. How rude am I?�

Relieved, if not exactly relaxed, William returned Buffy�s smile. �It wasn�t rude, Miss Summers. Actually, I�I was rather hoping that you might�that sometime...� His voice trailed away.

Buffy felt her own heart flutter and she silently scolded herself. Just because he was as nervous as an alley cat didn�t mean she should start getting all twitchy too. She reached out toward the sheet music and William, mistaking her purpose, quickly yanked his hand back.

�So what are you going to play for me?� she asked, pretending not to notice his discomfiture.

�Whatever you like�� He extended the sheaf of paper toward her but Buffy shook her head.

�Oh, I wouldn�t know one song title from another, so you�d probably better pick for me.�

If William thought it was strange that she claimed to like music but didn�t know a single song, he didn�t let on. Instead, he positioned his hands at the keys, flashed a shy smile, and began to play. This time the song seemed vaguely familiar to her and Buffy leaned across his arm to read the title. According to the sheet music, it was the first movement of Beethoven�s "Moonlight Sonata."

It was a beautiful song and he played it well, but she barely heard the music this time. Her eyes were studying the fluid movements of his hands across the keys, the strange expression on his face while he played�as if his thoughts were on something else entirely. The idea that it might be her made her stomach quiver.

�I know that the Christmas gift was from you,� she said suddenly.

His hands dropped against the keys, sending the music to an abrupt halt. He turned to her slowly.

�Excuse me?� That inscrutable look was on his face again.

�Matthew told me. On Boxing Day. He and I got to talking and he happened to mention it. Don�t be angry at him,� she added hastily. �He just wanted me to understand who it was that gave it to me. I think maybe he thought I already knew. Or should have known. Anyway, I wasn�t going to say anything to you about it, but I thought��

�You�thought��

��that you might want to know how much I appreciate it. The bracelet is beautiful�a really, really�ah�thoughtful gift. It means a lot to me that you would�� She faltered.

�He should not have spoken to you,� he whispered. He had the piano ledge in a death grip; his knuckles had actually gone white. �He had no right�I didn�t want you to know.�

�But�why?� asked Buffy confusedly. �I like it��

�Because it was not meant to�to make you feel obligated to�� He suddenly looked fierce. �You don�t owe me anything!�

�Well, I�m not exactly offering myself on a plate, here�� She paused as a thought occurred to her. �Wait a second�is that why you think I�ve been talking to you and playing chess with you? Is that why you think I�m sitting here now? Because I owe you?�

William looked away from her without answering. From the hunching of his shoulders, Buffy figured she pretty much knew what the response would be anyway, but she wanted him to say it.

�Tell me,� she insisted. �Is that why you think I�m here?�

�I do not know why!� he burst out.

�Well, if you want to know I can tell you! I�m here because I like your company. Is that such a shocker to you? That you might actually get me in the same room without having to pay me?�

�I was not trying��

�Yes! I get that. But what I�m saying is�I�m here because I want to be. Not because you�re rich�not because you give me gifts. Just�because��

His gaze shifted back to the piano.

�I should not have given you the bracelet. It was not a courteous thing to do��

�It was a sweet thing to do,� she argued. �I know you didn�t do it because you expect something in return. I never thought that. I just didn�t understand why you would do something so incredibly kind and not even want credit for it. Then Livvy told me it�s the kind of thing you guys aren�t allowed to do here��

�Then why did you�why make mention of it at all?� William questioned, once Buffy�s voice trailed away.

�I mentioned it because I wanted to thank you for it�William.�

He was staring straight ahead and not looking at her, but Buffy could see that he was very red faced even so. She moved infinitesimally closer to him, reaching out to finger the sleeve of his unbuttoned jacket so that he turned to look at her. His eyes were anxious, but he didn�t pull away from her this time.

�Can I call you William? Do you mind?�

�No, I don�t mind.� His voice was so soft.

�I�m your friend. I want you to know that. And I want you to be mine.�

�I am your friend,� he whispered. Buffy squeezed his arm gently.

�Then know that I am yours because you earned it�not because you�re paying me. Or because I�m hoping to get something in return.�

�I know that. I was afraid you thought�perhaps�that you were obligated to��

�Well, I don�t think that, so stop worrying about it. Okay?�

�Very well.�

�Good.� Their eyes met and Buffy�s heart thumped out of rhythm at the expression in his. His arm shuddered against her hand and suddenly Buffy realized that it was because she was kneading it like dough, rubbing her fingertips over the soft wool of his jacket. Quickly, she jerked her hand away.

�So�so is music your thing?� she asked hastily, trying to fill the awkwardness between them with conversation.

William looked puzzled. �I�m sorry?�

�Um�your passion, I meant to say. Is music your passion?�

�Oh.� He smiled. �No, not music. I enjoy it, but as I said before, I don�t have a great deal of skill. Just what I picked up at school. I have�other interests.�

�Like what?� she pressed. She wasn�t intentionally being pushy; she just didn�t know any better.

�Oh. Well, I suppose��

Before he could finish both of the sound of Anne�s violent coughing startled them. Buffy looked toward the open door regretfully.

�Your mother. I�ll bet she forgot to take her medicine tonight; I know I forgot to remind her. I should��

He nodded. A little reluctantly, Buffy thought.

�Of course. Yes.�

�Goodnight, William. Thanks for playing for me.�

�You�re welcome.�

His eyes followed her as she jumped from the bench and hurried to the doorway, but it wasn�t until she reached the corridor that she heard him add, very softly, �Goodnight, Miss Elizabeth.�

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Later that night, before she went to bed, Buffy crept into the library and looked up in a French language guide the phrase William had spoken earlier. She was sleepy and it took her a little while to piece together the different words, but when she did the translation was well worth the effort. She smiled to herself as the meaning of the words finally became clear:

Vous �tes tr�s belle�

You are very beautiful.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~
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