Past Love by Kallie Rose

Rating: R
Disclaimer: I acknowledge Joss Whedon as god of gods. All the characters in this story are his creation, along with Fox, the rest of the Mutant Enemy Crew, and whomever else wants to lay claim to them. I'm merely killing time by putting them in totally unrealistic situations.
Distribution: Night Flowers http://www.geocities.com/kallierose01/
The Mystic Muse http://mysticmuse.net
Sure, take it if you want it. Just let me know where it's going so I can visit it.
Feedback: Pretty please.
Spoilers: Somewhere around Season 2.
Pairing: Willow/Spike

Summary: Willow goes back in time and meets up with William.

He walked quickly down the dark, tree-lined street, a cool breeze ruffling the leaves of the trees as he walked by. It was a beautiful night, and his spirits were high. His mood added an extra swing to his step. The reading had gone perfectly. Cecily had been impressed with him, he was sure of it. Maybe she didn't look at him the way he looked at her yet, but it would happen. He just had to be patient.

William was so lost in his thoughts that he completely failed to notice the huddled figure at the edge of the road, until he was almost ran into it. "Good lord," he thought, "What the heck is that?" He leaned down to get a closer look.

It was a young woman, he realized. He saw a flash of bright vibrant red hair, small ruby-red lips, and pale skin. Too pale, in fact, he realized in alarm. It was a cold night out, and she seemed to be shivering slightly, even though she seemed to be unconscious. What to do with her – that was the question. He could leave her there, but that was really out of the question. Or he could take her to the authorities, who would probably throw her in jail, just because they didn't know what else to do with her. No, that wasn't really an option either. But what else was there to do with her?

He ran through several other ideas, but they all seemed to fall short. Finally, he sighed softly and picked her up and gently carried her home. She smelled wonderful, he thought. Like fresh flowers and vanilla, and maybe a pinch of cinnamon. She stirred slightly in his arms, sighing occasionally, but didn't wake up.

When he reached his home, he laid her out on his bed and took a good look at his new houseguest. She was slight, probably about 5'4", and so skinny that she looked almost unhealthy. Despite that, she was still beautiful. Unlike Cecily's polished attractiveness, however, this girl's beauty seemed to come from within. Her pale, translucent skin almost glowed, as if lit from an inner flame. And she emanated a sort of innocence and strength, even when unconscious, that made her all the more beautiful, he realized.

"But what was she wearing?" he wondered. The clothes were like nothing he'd ever seen before. Garishly colored, unruffled, and skin tight, yet somehow they enhanced the natural beauty of her slight figure. But they barely covering her body...no wonder she was shivering earlier. There was nothing subtle about the designs, unlike the clothes worn by the other women he knew. There was something slightly naughty, almost erotic, about the way her clothing clung to her. "She must be a foreigner," he thought, "for you'd never find such clothes around here."

He leaned over and eased her shoes off her feet. The shoes were odd as well. No heel to speak of, yet they looked very comfortable and quite practical. He shook his head in confusion and laid the shoes down by the side of the bed. After he had made her as comfortable as he could, he gently pulled the covers over her still body. He pulled a chair up next to the bed and watched his guest sleep, until his eyes closed and he was dozing as well.

She crawled her way slowly to consciousness. Her first thought as she opened her eyes was something along the lines of where the hell am I? She slowly looked around the room, pale green eyes taking in every unusual detail.

It was a large room, sparsely furnished. She seemed to be lying on a huge 4-poster bed, decorated with large tapestries full of purples and reds and blues. The floor was hardwood of a light color, covered in part by several rugs that matched the tapestries that decorated the bed. The walls were painted the lightest possible blue, and were dotted by the occasional painting or drawing, mostly landscapes. She recognized watercolors that brought names to her mind: Monet, Pissarro, Degas, and Renoir. She smiled slightly…some of her favorite artists were represented on those walls.

Back to her survey of the room, she noticed a large wood trunk and a matching dresser. Both had a distinctly masculine feel to them. That thought led her to the last remaining feature of the room, a large wooden chair, occupied by a sleeping figure. She couldn't quite see his face, but somehow she was sure it was a man. What she could see was a pair of long legs, a wiry body, and a face covered by light brown hair. Something tugged at her memory, a sense of familiarity perhaps, but she couldn't quite pin it down.

As she searched her memory, she noticed that there were quite a few things she couldn't pin down. Like her name, for instance. That caused her some alarm, and caused her to bolt upright in the bed. "Okay, slow down, take it easy, don't force it," she instructed herself. "If I just relax, it should come to me, shouldn't it?" Unfortunately, the answers still eluded her. Her feelings told her that something was wrong here, drastically wrong. And it wasn't just the lack of memory that was causing her distress. There was something wrong with "here". That was as close as she could come to defining the feeling she was having.

"Good morning, doll," he said, with a sleepy smile. He had an English accent, she noticed. "What was she doing in England?" she wondered. Or was she in England? Maybe he was the one who was far away from home. "But wait," she thought, "where is home? Maybe I live here?" She searched her mind for any feeling of familiarity, but came up empty-handed once again.

"Um, good morning to you too," she answered. Well, might as well go straight to the hard questions, she thought.

"Who are you?" she asked quietly. "I, well, I can't remember anything. I'm sorry, I feel like such a… I'm so confused," she finished despondently.

He was quiet for a moment, looking slightly surprised, and then he answered her. "Don't worry, doll," he answered her quietly. "I'll tell you everything I can, but I'm afraid it isn't much." He stretched his long body and stood up, walking over to the bed. He sat down on the edge and looked down at her sad face. She shifted slightly, as if nervous or slightly afraid of him.

She stared at his face as he talked. He had such wonderful cheekbones, and now that she had a chance to see his eyes, she noticed that they were the most incredible color of light blue.

"First things first," he said. "Do you need anything? Are you warm enough, do you want anything to eat, drink, or…anything?"

"No, I'm fine," she answered quietly. "I just want…need to know…whatever you can tell me. About me. About you. Do we know each other? You seem familiar, in a fuzzy sort of way."

"Sorry, sweetness, but there's not a whole lot I can tell you," he replied sadly. "I'd never seen you before last night, when I found you on the side of the road. You were unconscious, shivering. I didn't know what else to do, so I took you home. My name, by the way, is William. And you're…?"

Confusion and frustration clouded her eyes, and he was sorry he had tried to push her. "I don't know what my name is," she answered sadly. "I…it's like when you're trying to think of something, a song, or something. And you can't think of the name of it, but it's right there lurking behind your mind. If you could just catch it unaware, you could pounce on it and have it. That's the way it feels," she finished forlornly.

"Don't worry, doll. Thinking about it is probably the worst possible thing you could do. We'll just come up with a name for you. Any ideas? Personally, I go for the historic names. Cleopatra was a redhead…so was Salome. Either of those names suit you. What do you think?"

"I think you need to get out more," she thought to herself with a grin. "Well, at least I still have my sense of humor!" She looked back at him and was surprised to see that he really was serious about those names. "Well that won't do at all," she thought.

"Um, how about just Red," she asked. "It's simple, easy to remember, and it seems sort of familiar."

Her eyes were so sad that he just had to give in to her, although he thought the name was rather plain and ordinary, as unlike her as possible. "Sure, that'll do for now, I guess. I'm sure we'll come up with your real name in no time, anyway, so this is just a temporary measure anyway, right?"

With the question of what to call her settled, "Red" decided she had better get up and take care of some other things. "What am I going to do?" she asked herself. "I have no clothes, no money, and no idea where I belong. I'm at the mercy of a stranger, and the minute he kicks me out, I'm totally defenseless." Her face crumpled again, but she tried to hide it. There was no use getting all teary-eyed in front of a total stranger, even if he was quite a handsome stranger. And there was something in the back of her mind that told her not to trust him, even though she didn't know why. Had she had a bad experience with men in the past? Was that why she didn't feel like she could trust him? So many questions were still unanswered. That fact, along with a lack of nourishment, was giving her a headache.

"Sure, I think I can scrounge up something here. It's not the Ritz here, but it'll do. " William stood up and held out his hand to her. "Come along, then. I might as well give you the grand tour, since you might be here for a while."

Before she knew what he was doing, he captured her hand and lifted her gently to her feet. His hand felt warm and strong, and the friendly grin on his face eased her tension a little. "Maybe I did have a bad experience with a man in my past," she thought. "But that's no reason to hold it against William. He's been nothing but patient and understanding. Really, I'm lucky that he found me and not someone quite different."

"This is the bedroom, of course," William stated, waving his arm towards his room. He led her past a curtained window and towards a small door at the other side of the room. "These are the…er, facilities." It was a small bathroom, but neat and clean.

He led her back through the bedroom, out the other door and into the hallway. It was decorated with the same colors as the bedroom, the tones of blues, purples and reds. Definitely a male abode. No evidence of a woman's touch at all. They wandered down the hallway until he stopped and showed her his study. Books covered the walls from floor to ceiling, and in the center of the room was a beautiful large oak desk. "Beautiful," she sighed. Red was fascinated…she couldn't remember when she had ever seen so many books. "Then again, I can't remember my own name," she thought, so that wasn't such a big surprise.

She followed him back into the hallway, then into a living room furnished with a couch, a loveseat and a small coffee table. They all looked hand-made, almost like antiques. Again, as in the bedroom, the walls were covered with many framed paintings, mostly from the Impressionist era.

He watched as she walked from painting to painting, seeming to drink in the mood of each one. She seemed fascinated by a couple of the Monets in particular, staring at them longer than any of the others.

"I'm afraid I'm not much of a decorator, really," he apologized. "I spend most of my time in my study, and I never did think to put more furniture in this room. Don't do much entertaining of any kind, to be quite honest." He fidgeted nervously, trying to see the room the way it would look to her. For some reason, he sort of hoped that she liked it.

As they walked towards the kitchen, she stopped to look out the window. It was an ordinary window, looking out across the road, with a small view of the Thames in the background. He had paid dearly for that view, and he was slightly proud that it seemed to enthrall her so. He stood quietly behind her and looked out over the scene, wondering what it was that was catching her interest.

She stood there for several minutes, just staring out the window. There was something going on behind those green eyes…was she remembering something? Maybe the river was a familiar scene to her, and was bringing back some of her memories. If so, they weren't happy memories, for she looked scared, more than anything.

Suddenly, without any warning at all, she turned on him. She took the cross hanging from her neck and pressed it tightly against his forehead. All he could do was look at her in stunned amazement. What was she doing?

She looked out the window at the horse-drawn carriages rushing by, and suddenly she knew! She knew why everything seemed so wrong here. Memories rushed through her head. Memories of her childhood, of playing with Xander and Jesse. Then elementary school. Junior High, High School. Meeting Buffy…losing Jesse. Fighting together with her friends, her "Scoobies." Giles. Cordelia. Angel. Angelus. Spike and Drusilla. Oh god, SPIKE! "William the Bloody," she thought in panic. Only not so bloody now, was he? Was he a vampire yet, or was he still a human? She had to know. She'd worry about how she got here later. Right now she had to know whether she was dealing with William the Poet, or Spike the Master Vampire.

Using all her strength, she turned suddenly and pressed the cross she was wearing against his forehead. He didn't try to resist her movements, and when she placed the cross on his forehead, he didn't hiss or burn or back away. He just looked at her with curious surprise. Thank god, he wasn't Spike. She was safe. From that particular vampire, at least.

"He probably thinks I've lost my mind," she thought. She was glad to know that she was dealing with William, and not Spike, but how was she going to explain her strange behavior?

"I…I'm sorry, I'm so clumsy. I was going to turn around, and you were there, and I kind of just…" she trailed off. Well, that was a lame excuse, she decided. But it was the best she could come up with for now.

"That's all right, Red," he answered back slowly. "No harm done." He didn't quite believe her explanation, but obviously she wasn't going to tell him any more than that, so he'd just have to accept it. He looked into her eyes, trying to figure out what she was up to.

"Well, let's get you something to eat, shall we?" he suggested. She followed him into the kitchen. "What would you like? Maybe a sandwich? Cheese okay? I'm not much of a cook, being a bachelor and all, but I think I could manage a sandwich."

"Yes, that would be wonderful," she answered thankfully. She took a seat at the small wooden table at the edge of the kitchen. As she watched him move quickly to make the sandwich, she took a good look at him. Honestly, he looked almost the same now as he did all those years later in Sunnydale. His hair was different, of course. It was a little longer now, and brown, instead of white. But his face was almost exactly the same. She had always thought that Spike was rather handsome, in an evil and dead sort of way. But of course the evil and dead thing made him extremely off-limits. And it definitely wouldn't have been acceptable to be ogling him while he was trying to kill them all…very poor strategy.

But this William, he was just as handsome as Spike had always been, but with an added vulnerability and sweetness. He just seemed so…so…nice. It was hard to figure out how this quiet, gentle man had become a pitiless, ruthless killer. Then again, having a demon set up housekeeping in your body was bound to change a person.

William's return, bringing with him the promised cheese sandwich, made Willow break free from her thoughts. As she hungrily attacked the food, along with a wonderful glass of cold milk, William told her of his plans for the evening.

"I'm sorry to have to leave you alone like this, but it's just that this reading has been planned for quite some time, and I really have to be there. I'd take you along, but your clothes…well, let's just say that you'd be under-dressed." There was a small twinkle in his eye as he said the last part, and Willow realized that (of course) her clothing was terribly inappropriate for this day and age. "My god," she thought, "what must he think of these clothes? And I don't have any money to get anything more appropriate. What in the world am I going to do?"

William solved her unvoiced question with a promise that he'd have a friend pick up some things for her while he was out. When he returned, he'd not only have clothing for her, but also anything else she might need.

"But I don't have any money. How can I repay you?" she asked anxiously. "Oh hell," she thought. "That sounded like something out of a trashy romance novel. How embarrassing!"

Much to her relief, he didn't answer back with a leer and a promise that she could "work off her debt" in ways that would make her blush. That was probably the response she would have gotten from Spike. But William just smiled softly and replied: "Don't worry, Red. I have lots of money. And absolutely nothing better to do with it these days. I promise, I'll take care of you until you're ready to stand on your own two feet again."

"Now while I'm gone, you're welcome to read anything you like in the study. I'm sorry I don't have anything else to keep you entertained, but your arrival was…unexpected," he finished with a grin.

"Oh! I love to read," she answered readily. Uh-oh, I have amnesia; I'd better remember that. "I mean, I think I love to read. I don't remember, exactly…" she started to babble and then trailed off.

"I'll be back in a few hours," he reminded her with a smile. "Make yourself at home, get comfortable, and when I come back, we'll get you all fixed up so that you can actually leave the house if you want."

Willow watched as William walked out the door and closed it behind him. She sighed in relief, then walked into the living room and sank down onto the couch. "Okay, now that I'm alone, I can finally think. What the heck did I do and how did I get here? And more importantly, how do I get home?"

Willow thought about the events of the last few days. Things were still a little fuzzy, but she knew that there had been a demon. It was Sunnydale, after all. There was always a demon. This time it was Spike. She had wanted to experiment a little. Magic was becoming quite a hobby for her, and she had thought that if she could just make Spike disappear, send him someplace where it couldn't harm anyone, then that would be good, wouldn't it? She hadn't wanted to tell Buffy or anyone else, in case things didn't work. She didn't want to look silly if they were expecting her to succeed, and then everything went "poof" in her face. Well things hadn't worked out like she had planned. How was that for a big "poof?" For some reason she had disappeared, and not Spike. And had gone back in time, for heaven's sake. Whatever mistake she had made, it must have been a doozy.

So now she was stuck in old London, somewhere back in the…she thought a bit…probably in the late 1800s, if she had to guess. And she was here with William, not Spike. Thank god for that, at any rate.

What must her friends and family be thinking? Did they know she was missing? It was so frustrating. She hoped that they knew she was okay, but how could they? Damn, damn damn. This had not worked out at all like she had expected.

She got up and walked into William's library. Maybe he had a book that might help her. Willow looked at the titles in row after row of books, then shook her head in disgust. Sheesh, he didn't own anything that would help a bit. He seemed unaware that the supernatural even existed, if his reading library was anything to judge by.

Well, she was stuck. She couldn't go out, not looking the way she did. And she couldn't be Research Girl, not without any research books. So for tonight, she'd just make the best of it. Did William have anything in his library to read? Well, yes, he had enough to keep her busy for weeks…no, make that years. Fascinating titles tantalized her. She picked the closest one and walked back to the bedroom. She was still a little worn out, probably some sort of side effect from the unsuccessful spell. She'd lie down in the bed, snuggle under the covers, and read until she drifted off to sleep. Maybe when she woke up, she'd have some sort of divine revelation that would show her a way out of this mess.

"What an evening this was!" thought William as he surveyed the crowded room. Well over fifty people sat in front of him at small tables, eating and drinking merrily. He had read his poetry and they had laughed (with him, not at him) and cried (and at the appropriate times, too!). He couldn't believe the reception he had received. Everyone had been impressed, he thought. Even Cecily. And the look on her pretty face when he asked her if her lady's maid could help him pick up some clothing for Red, well, it was priceless. He hadn't quite asked her like that, of course. He simply mentioned that he had a female relation that was visiting from abroad, and that she needed an appropriate wardrobe.

"Damn, I wish Red was here to see this," he mused. He wanted to share his triumph with someone, but he just wasn't sure who to share it with. Cecily had dropped the packages her maid had purchased for him, and then left in a mood. Yes, she was definitely jealous. Oddly enough, that knowledge left him strangely unmoved. It was a pair of green eyes that haunted his thoughts, and not Cecily's brown ones. His preoccupation with Red probably just came from the fact that she was new and exotic, he told himself, and a bit of a mystery that begged to be solved. He was certain that once her memory returned, she would move on, and his attention would be riveted to Cecily once again. But why did that make him feel slightly sad?

He pushed that thought to the back of his mind and slipped out of the room. He gathered up the boxes that Cecily had left and wandered out into the night, walking quickly to make it back to his home and to Red.

For the second day in a row, Willow woke up slowly and extremely confused. There seemed to be a body spooned against her back, and it was a male body, that much was certain. She could feel his arousal poking towards her, and feel his arm on her breast. "What the hell?" she thought, slightly outraged that he had taken such liberties while she was asleep. She was also somewhat embarrassed, she had to admit. It felt good to wake up with him like this. Gently she shifted to face him, looking over at his handsome features. He looked so young when he was sleeping. So carefree and relaxed. She thought that he was one of the most handsome men she had ever seen, and now that he wasn't a vampire, it was okay to feel admit it. There were worse things in the world than to be stuck here forever with him.

"Except that I have a family and friends who love me, waiting for me at home," she reminded herself. She couldn't lose sight of that fact, no matter how good this felt. She had to go somewhere where she could find some books and supplies to help her return to her future.

Finally she decided that she had better get up and get clean. She removed William's arm and slipped silently to her feet. Silently she padded across the cold floor, towards the bathroom, where she ran a bath and then gratefully slid in. The warmth of the water was seductive. She laid back and relaxed as the water caressed her body, almost lulling her back to sleep.

She was brought back to earth with a crash as the door opened and William stood there, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Oh, I'm so terribly sorry," he apologized frantically, backing away and closing the door behind him. "Please forgive me," he continued, talking through a small crack in the door. "Oh, I have some clothes for you. I'll leave them outside the door here, and then you can get dressed. I'll fix us some breakfast, and when you're done, I'll do what I need to do. Does that sound all right?" he concluded anxiously.

"William, it's okay, really, I understand," she answered, feeling slightly sorry for him. The poor guy felt so bad, she thought. "He really is incredibly shy around women," she realized. She got out of the tub quickly and dried herself with one of the big white fluffy towels she had found. Then she did what she could with her hair. Without the convenience of a hairdryer, she had to dry it as much as she could with the towel, and then let it hang down around her shoulders. As she finished with her hair, she heard William drop several boxes by the door, then quickly walk away.

She opened the door a crack, grabbed the packages, and quickly pulled them inside. There were 4 or 5 boxes there. As she opened each one, a sense of dread enveloped her. She was aware that the women here dressed differently than in her time, but she was completely unprepared for the sheer amount of clothing that she would be expected to wear. The underclothes were many and stifling. And the dress, with all of its buttons and bows…it was beautiful, she had to admit, but how did the women actually move when wearing clothes like these? In fact, even breathing was going to be a bit of a chore.

After quite a battle, she managed to get everything on, even the boots. They were delicate white boots that laced all the way up the front, and came to mid-calf. But although she could get everything on, there was no way that she'd be able to button all the buttons on the back of the dress. That was why ladies' maids were such a commonplace thing in these times, she realized. She would have had to be a contortionist to be able to put this dress on by herself. She sighed as she realized that she was going to have to ask for William's help.

Feeling more than a little silly, she slowly made her way towards the kitchen, where she could smell some sort of spiced porridge heating. The scent made her realize how hungry she was.

William stopped what he was doing as he heard her approach, and turned to face her. He was completely unprepared for the effect her appearance would have on him. "My god, she's beautiful," he thought in amazement. The green of the dress brought out the color of her eyes, at the same time setting off her coppery hair to perfection. The shape of the dress enhanced her small frame, while still managing to make her look extremely feminine. But why was she frowning?

Biting her lower lip in discomfiture, she finally admitted, "William, um, I need a little help with this." Then she turned around, and William understood. Quickly he took the porridge off the heat, and then he walked around behind her.

His nimble fingers deftly did their work. As they went from the bottom button up to the top, they traced a line of fire along Willow's back. She longed to turn around and shower his face with kisses. But no, she couldn't do that. She couldn't get involved, she reminded herself. This was just a temporary situation. She would be going home, oh how she hoped she would, and any entanglement now would be a terrible mistake.

"Is that better?" William whispered against her ear, placing his hands on her shoulders.

She realized that he was finished with the buttons, and was waiting for her answer.

William turned back to the porridge and the spell was broken. She wandered over to the table and cautiously sat down. "How do the women do it?" she wondered again. William poured the porridge into two bowls and carried them to the table, setting one down in front of her.

"Have you remembered anything?" William asked her as he sat down. He hadn't wanted to push, but he was curious. She seemed much more at peace than she had the previous day. Maybe she had had some memories or thoughts that had brought about that change.

"No, really I haven't," she sighed sadly. "I try and try, but nothing happens. Then I stop trying, thinking that maybe I'm trying too hard, but nothing happens then either." She did her best to look discouraged and dejected, although she felt guilty about lying to him. But to tell him the truth, well, that was just out of the question. Either he wouldn't believe her, and she'd end up in some house for the insane, or he would believe her, and that thought was even more frightening. Oh, and they still burned witches, didn't they? That was another thing she'd have to keep to herself, for her own safety.

They ate in silence, William wondering if she had a husband and family who would be looking for her; Willow wondering how to bring up the subject that had been on her mind for the last several minutes. Finally, she just came out with it.

"I was thinking…." she started, "could we go to a library today? Some place with lots and lots of books, maybe even some history books. Maybe that would help to remind me of something." And maybe I can find something that will help me get home, she added silently to herself.

"Sure, Red," he replied. "Let me get dressed, and I'll take you wherever you want to go." With that, he headed for the bathroom, while Willow set to tidying the kitchen, trying to keep her excitement from becoming too obvious. Hopefully by the time they returned to his home later tonight, she would have an answer to the question of how she was going to get home.

"I give up," Willow acknowledged softly, to no one in particular. Her shoulders were sore, her back hurt, her vision was blurry, and all for nothing. Book after book sat in a pile next to her. For hours she had poured over them, looking for some sort of sign. After the first half-hour, she had finally convinced William that she was fine by herself, and ever since she had been searching the books for some clue to what had gone wrong.

While the books here were slightly more helpful than those in William's study, they still didn't give her any insight as to what had happened. How she longed for the days in the Sunnydale High School library, filled with all of Giles' musty, dusty, stuffy, yet terribly useful books. If she ever made it back home, she'd never again complain about being Research Girl. If….

What she really needed, she admitted, was either access to some sort of private collection, or to the files and literature of the Watchers' Council. Willow knew that the council had been around for hundreds of years. They were here, somewhere, but finding them wouldn't be easy. One could hardly look them up in the yellow pages under "watchers."

A noise behind her alerted her to the fact that William had returned. She turned and gave him a weary smile, and he sat down in the chair beside her.

"No progress, I'm guessing by the look on your face," he surmised. When she nodded in tired agreement, he took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. "You will remember," he told her vehemently, "when it's your time to remember. You believe me, don't you?"

She sighed and closed her eyes, content to enjoy the feeling of his warm soft hands on her face. Finally, she opened her eyes, and green eyes met blue ones. "I believe you," she replied.

"Good," he said. "Now let's get out of here and have some dinner. I'm starving." He stood up and held his hand out to her. She took it, and they walked together into the night, in a companionable silence.

It was amazing how much better she felt with a warm meal inside her. William had taken her to a wonderful restaurant and plied her with red wine and good food. She had even managed to get a little tipsy, she admitted. She hadn't ever had more than a glass of wine before, so after the 3 glasses she had tonight, she'd been more than a little disoriented. William kissed her on the nose and told her that she was "cute," which for some reason infuriated her.

Now they were sitting in the living room, talking about William's poetry. He quoted a couple of his verses to her, to which she applauded appreciatively. He really did have a talent, she thought.

"I've got to get to sleep," she confessed, smothering a yawn with the back of her hand. "But I loved hearing your poetry. Can we do this again tomorrow?" she asked.

"We can do this as often as you want, I promise," William answered. "But before you turn in, you need some help with your shoulders. Get into your nightclothes, but leave your back exposed. Then go and lie down on the bed, on your stomach. I'll be right there."

He forestalled her modest protests with just two words, "Trust me." Strangely enough, she did. Quickly she undressed and laid down on the bed as he instructed.

He returned, and the scent of almond oil filled her senses. She started slightly as he poured some onto her back, and then she felt his hands kneed it into her skin. As he continued, she finally started to relax again and let his hands do their work. He attacked the muscles in her shoulders, then her back, continuing down to her lower back, stopping just short of her buttocks.

"That feel better?" he asked. But instead of an answer, all he heard was her soft breathing. He smiled in satisfaction, walked into the bathroom to clean up, then changed into black satin boxers and joined her in bed. Soon they were both sleeping peacefully.

"No! No, Spike. Buffy, be careful!" she spoke urgently, almost hysterically. She was thrashing beneath the covers, as if she were running in her dream. He woke quickly, looked at the expression on her face, then grabbed her fluttering arms and pulled her back against him. From the change in her breathing, he could tell that she was slowly waking up. He turned her slowly to face him, looking into her wild, frightened eyes.

"There there, Red, it was only a dream. You're awake now, nobody is going to hurt you." He murmured platitudes while he held her face to his chest and gently stroked her hair.

"Are you okay now?" he asked, hand on her chin, tilting her face up to his. "Do you remember what you were dreaming about?"

"I…I…was…someone was chasing me. What…what did I say?" she asked hesitantly. Please god, she thought, don't let me have said anything bad. Please!

"You were talking to someone named…Buffy? I think that was the name. And there was something about a spike, too. I didn't quite get that part. Who is this Buffy? Does the name sound at all familiar? It's a pretty odd name. I would think that a name like that would be hard to forget," he added.

"I said Buffy?" she thought despairingly. "Oh no, I can't keep this up much longer. Sooner or later he's going to figure out that I'm faking this. Then he'll kick me out and I'll be alone. I just couldn't bear it."

He saw the emotions flicker across her face and misunderstood her misery. "Don't worry, Red. It's okay, just relax. I should stop asking you that, shouldn't I? It's probably putting even more pressure on you, and that's the last thing you need."

He looked into her sad eyes, and did the only thing he could think of to comfort her. He lowered his head and pressed his lips against her soft cheek. She stiffened slightly in his arms, then relaxed. He trailed kisses from her cheek towards her lips, taking her silence as acceptance. When his lips finally touched hers, she opened her mouth, welcoming him deeper.

"What am I doing?" she thought. "He's kissing me, and I'm letting him. Heck, I'm even enjoying it. He's awfully good at this, isn't he? Like, really really good. For once in my life, I want to give in and enjoy the moment. Is that really so wrong? I deserve some happiness for once, don't I? Okay, now I'm just babbling. Time to stop thinking…"

Her decision made, she threw all her energy into kissing William back. She wrapped her arms around his heck and returned his kisses with a passion that surprised them both. Neither of them had ever felt something so strong and powerful.

He turned her onto her back, then covered her body with his own. Balancing himself on his arms so as not to crush her beneath him, he looked down at her lovely face and whispered "Are you sure this is what you want? It's not too late to turn back, you know."

"I want you more than I ever could have imagined," she answered back with a soft smile. "This is right…I just know it." She banished all thoughts of tomorrow from her mind, and gave herself up to enjoy what was happening between them.

"Good morning, my love," he said, bringing her hand to his lips for an early morning kiss.

"Good morning, my love," she answered back, smiling at him, then blushing slightly as she thought about last night.

"What, are you crazy?" he replied in mock indignation. "You give me the most beautiful night of my entire life, and then ask if I regret it. Ummmm…..NO!" he answered back cheerfully.

"This morning isn't looking too bad either, the way I see it," he answered, as he leaned in to kiss her again. Then he stopped himself, looked her in the eye, and got serious.

"I love you, you know. Didn't expect it to happen. I just thought I was helping you out. Purely selfless motives and all. But something happened along the way, and I just couldn't stop myself."

He got up and paced uneasily along the length of the bed. She watched him with a troubled look in her green eyes. "I know that you could be married, could have children, an entire family, even. But I can't help myself, I just can't," he continued. "I want to be with you, no matter what might happen in the future."

Willow stood up and walked towards him. When they came together, she took his arms and put them around her, then put her arms around his shoulders. She looked up into his eyes and told him the truth, at least as much of it as she could.

"I don't care about the past, or the future," she said with conviction. "Things may change tomorrow. Or they may never change. All I can do is live in the now. And right now, I love you. It's not something I ever expected, not in a million years. But the thought of living without you scares me to death. I've fallen for you, so hard and so quickly that it frightens me." She watched his eyes to see his reaction, and he didn't disappoint her.

"I love you too, Red. But don't ever be afraid, ever. Trust me, and believe that I would kill myself before I'd ever hurt you." With that, he picked her up, walked over to the bed, and proved to her again how deeply he felt towards her.

"What are we going to do today, you ask?" he said as they ate breakfast, "How about a day at the park, Red? Including a picnic, complete with fresh cheese, old wine, and a blanket under a tree. No ants allowed, though. Not even the chocolate-covered variety. Never could stand them. Then later tonight, we can stretch out under the stars and name each and every one, while you lie in my arms. Does that sound like something you'd like?"

Willow thought that she couldn't imagine a more perfect day, no matter how hard she tried. She said as much to William. "But what if it rains?" she asked. "What do we do then?"

"You must be kidding," he scoffed, his blue eyes softly mocking her. "The gods would never do that to us. You just wait and see…it'll be a perfect day."

She smiled back at him, eyes wide and laughing. "A perfect day, huh? And you're going to waste it with me? Are you sure you wouldn't like to spend it with one of your *other* girlfriends?"

"Minx! You know you're the only woman for me. Now go and wash up, while I finish up in the kitchen," he replied. He took the dishtowel and snapped it at her retreating backside, watching appreciatively as she walked down the hall.

Willow made it as far as the bedroom, before she noticed that something was wrong, drastically wrong. As the pain hit her, she fell down to her knees, then curled up into a ball. It felt like her entire body was on fire, pulsing with sharp needles of pain. She cried out softly, but so weakly that it would never attract William's attention. The room around her seemed to shimmer and wane, then it just sort of faded away to blackness, as she lost consciousness completely.

When Willow awoke the pain was gone. Her body was still curled into a small ball, but instead of being in Spike's bedroom, she was in her own room, in her own time. She looked around at all the familiar sights of her childhood. How small they seemed now. Her single bed, her dresser, the posters on her wall, everything that she used to think was important to her.

Then she realized what was missing. William. She had been flung forward in time, back to her present, but William was gone. Oh god, what would he think when he returned to their room, only to find it empty? Would he think that she had left him, had remembered everything and just left without a word? Or would he trust in their love enough to know that she would never have left of her own accord? Was he even now out searching for a sign of her? A sign that he'd never find, since she wasn't anywhere…anywhen that he would find. Maybe it would be easier if he just thought she'd left.

Willow stood slowly and walked to her desk. She sat down on the wooden chair and looked at the computer. The date read October 2, 2002, 10:15pm. The same day she had left. Only about two hours had elapsed. Yet it had been 4 days, and almost a lifetime, to her. So much had changed since she'd been here last. She had changed. She had become a woman, had fallen in love, and now she was experiencing the loss of that love. She buried her head in her hands and cried despairingly.

And what about Spike? Would he now remember the things that had happened between her and William? In an ironic way, the situation mirrored the one that had existed between Buffy and Angelus. Loving someone that used to inhabit a body now inhabited by a demon. She didn't know how she would deal with it…hopefully she wouldn't have to for a while. She needed to talk to Buffy…Buffy would know what to do, or at least she'd be able to comfort Willow.

She picked up her phone and dialed Buffy's number. Buffy was never asleep at this hour, she was sure, so it should be easy to convince her to come over.

"Hello," Buffy's voice sounded chipper and happy. Willow needed that cheerfulness…she could feel herself start to sink into a deep, hopeless depression, now that her arrival seemed to hit home.

"Buffy?" she asked hesitantly. "Could…could you come over here? I know it's late and all, but I really need to talk to you." Please, please, please, Willow added silently.

"Willow? Are you okay? You sound…different. What's the matter? Never mind, I'll be right there. Did Xander do something stupid again? Do I need to bring chocolate?"

"No, just bring yourself. You can help me decide what to do next. Right now I just need advice," Willow confessed.

"Don't move a muscle, I'll be right there," Buffy reassured her. Willow hung up the phone and just stared silently into space, mind working feverishly, until she heard the knock at her balcony door. She raced over to open the window, saw Buffy, and opened the door so that her friend could enter. Then, without any warming, she started to cry, deep sorrowful sobs. Buffy, alarmed at Willow's state, hugged her friend tightly and stroked her hair gently.

"I made a mistake, a big mistake, and now he's gone. I'll never see him again. And I love him so much. I love him, I love him." Willow repeated over and over.

"Shush, shush, no matter how bad it seems now, it's not the end of the world. Remember that. It'll be okay, trust me." Buffy tried her best to comfort Willow, but without knowing what the problem was, she could only offer empty reassurances.

"What happened, Willow? Whatever it is, we can fix it. No matter what happened, there's always a way to make it better. We just have to find the way."

Slowly Willow's sobs subsided, and she and Buffy sat down on the edge of the bed. She looked at Buffy and decided that she might as well start from the beginning. It took a while, especially once Buffy started asking questions, but eventually Willow finished her narrative. She told Buffy everything…starting with her idea of casting a spell, through her arrival in old London, to meeting William, to falling in love with him. Then her return to Sunnydale. She looked at Buffy with desperate eyes, hoping against hope that Buffy would have some sort of way out of her problems. Some sort of solution or spell that would bring William back to the present, or barring that, send Willow back to the past.

Buffy looked at her with a quizzical expression on her face, not wanting to worry Willow, but needing one salient piece of information. She finally said to Willow "Okay, I get everything that happened. I mean, this is the Hellmouth. Weirder things have happened. A time-traveling witch, I can buy that. England in the 1880s, okay, I can accept that as well. But…who is this Spike?"

Willow looked at Buffy in horror, as she finally realized the seriousness of the problem. Somehow, because of her trip through time, she had changed things. William was never turned. He and Angelus had never met. And because of that fact, Spike never existed.

As the facts came crashing down on her, Willow laid on her bed and wept even more furiously than she had before. Because now she realized that William truly was gone from her forever.

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Past Love

by Kallie Rose

Copyright © 2003

kallierose@earthlink.net