Not a Very Vengeful Wish

It was cleaning day in the basement of Casa Harris, a monthly activity that Xander hated, but living in a basement was bad enough without it being a squalid pit of filth. Luckily, the basement wasn’t very large. It only held a sofa bed, a coffee table, a free standing TV, a mini-fridge and microwave, the washer and dryer, and a closet bathroom.

“You missed a spot.”

And a barcalounger with a vampire tied to it.

“Shut up, Spike.” Xander whisked the cleaning rag across the coffee table one more time. He’d run the vacuum over the throw rug between the furniture next – which would drown out Spike’s annoying voice – before moving onto the bathroom.

Spike had been tied to the chair in Xander’s basement apartment for several days now, while the group decided what to do with him. Xander voted repeatedly for staking, with Buffy sometimes backing him up. But Willow kept pointing out that the chip in Spike’s head rendered him harmless and it would be wrong for them to stake him. Giles was trying to decide if releasing what essentially was a psychopath, who couldn’t kill people on his own, back into the world was the right thing to do. So Xander was stuck with Spike, because Giles was smart enough to kick the irritating vampire out of his own house.

“M’just sayin’,” Spike drawled, shifting against the rope that kept him in place. The collar of the red shirt he wore over his black t-shirt and jeans poked up into his chin. “If you’re going to play houses, you should do it right.”

Xander waved the cleaning rag in front of Spike’s face. “You know, I could stuff this rag into your mouth and there’s nothing you could do about it.”

“Kinky.”

Xander’s lips curled in disgust. “Not even in your dreams.”

Spike blew him a kiss as a knock sounded on the door leading outside. “It’s open!” Xander called as he threw the rag at Spike’s face. There was no chance in hell Xander would sex up a vampire, especially not Spike.

The door opened, and Anya walked in with her arm looped in the elbow of another woman’s. The woman was as tall as Anya, with similar brown hair and striking blue eyes. “Xander, this is Hortence. Hortence, this is Xander.”

Hortence gave Xander the once-over. “Hello, Xander. Your shirt’s very obnoxious.”

Spike snorted. Xander looked down at the blue Hawaiian shirt that he’d paired with a yellow t-shirt and khakis. “Um… okay.”

“I warned you that he dresses that way,” Anya said.

“So you did.” Hortence’s gaze traveled around the basement with an air of judgment before she focused on Spike. “You didn’t tell me that he kept men tied to a chair in this squalor of a living space. Is he having a salacious affair and this why you’re breaking up with him?”

Spike scoffed, “As if he’d be so lucky.”

“You’re breaking up with me?” Xander stared in surprise at Anya. He’d thought things were going okay between them.

“Yes, Xander. I am breaking up with you,” Anya said, not softening her words. “I have spent both a wonderful and terrible time with you, but now I am going to leave Sunnydale and experience what else this world has to offer me now that I have obtained this thing called a ‘passport’ and Hortence said she would go with me.”

Xander had always both loved and hated Anya’s bluntness. Right now, it was bordering on hate. His heart felt like it was being crushed by a giant’s fist. He tried to speak, but couldn’t.

At least Anya also looked devastated by her words, but she didn’t take them back. She tugged on Hortence’s elbow. “Goodbye, Xander. Tell everyone else I said goodbye as well.”

She and Hortence left, closing the door behind them.

Anya started up the steps to the yard, but Hortence freed her arm and pressed her ear against the door. Anya looked at her in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“I’m listening. You have crushed his heart into itty-bits, and I am a vengeance demon. Unlike you, Anyanka, I take vengeance on both genders.”

Anya dashed the tears from her eyes. “I understand.” She joined Hortence in pressing her ear against the door.

Xander was at a loss. The break up was out of the blue. They hadn’t been fighting more than usual, and the sex was great, as always. Had he done something wrong? He wished he could call her back and ask her why, but at the same time, he didn’t want to hear it. He stared mournfully at the closed door, until Spike’s chortle of laughter caused him to turn.

Spike’s expression was one of hilarity. “That was excellent, mate. Best thing I’ve seen all week. Think she could come back and do it again?” More laughter.

Xander’s heartbreak flamed to anger. “Shut up!”

“The look on your face! All stunned and crumple-y. I don’t think I could’ve done better.”

Xander charged over, grabbed Spike by the lapels, and spat in his face. “Shut! Up!”

“I think I like the bit best where she said she’s leaving you because she has a passport. You’re being replaced by a piece of paper!” Spike chortled again.

Xander drew a fist back, about to punch Spike, but realized he’d be playing right into Spike’s twisted jubilation. He shoved Spike back against the chair. “Don’t forget Drusilla dumped you, too, pal.”

Spike sobered immediately. “Hey, now, don’t go bringing her into this.”

“In fact, she dumped you more than once. And yet you still went crawling back. Who’s more pathetic now?”

Spike attempted to lunge from the chair at Xander, but his bonds prevented him. Xander laughed, though it sounded hollow. “What were you going to do? Faint on me when your chip kicked in?”

“I don’t faint,” Spike growled, appearing pissed. “At least Drusilla and I were together for 120 years. You can’t even keep a chit for a year.”

“First of all, Cordelia and I dated longer than a year before you screwed that up, thank you very much.” Xander snagged the bucket of cleaning supplies and headed for the bathroom. “Second, what you and Drusilla had wasn’t love; it was some crazy, long-assed sexcapade. You’re a vampire. You can’t feel love.”

“Shows what you know,” Spike derided. “You just wish you had something as great as Dru n’me.”

“What I wish is that you were still human, and then maybe I’d get some sympathy,” Xander snapped back, and closed the bathroom door on the conversation.

Hortence’s face filled with glee before it twisted into its demonic visage. “Done.”

Anya frowned, straightening her posture. “That was not a very vengeful wish.”

Hortence shrugged. “A wish is a wish, and I don’t want to stand around all day waiting for him to say something better.”

Anya looped her arm with Hortence’s again, and they started up the steps. “I suppose turning Spike into a human is all right. Did you give him his soul back?”

“The wish was for him to still be human, not turn him into one.”

Anya gave Hortence a horrified look. “Spike is 146 years old. You didn’t leave Xander in there with a corpse, did you?”

Hortence laughed. “I didn’t think of that. I should have. But no, that’s not what I did.”

Xander leaned back against the closed bathroom door and shut his eyes. He needed some privacy to come to grips with Anya dumping him. Maybe even cry. He had loved her, even though sometimes her forthrightness was off-putting. And she always wanted sex – not that he was complaining – but she didn’t really spend any alone time with him outside of bed. Willow had pointed out, when Xander and Anya had first started dating, that Anya was clinging to something familiar. At the time, Xander had defended their relationship, but now Xander wondered if it had been the truth.

Xander took a deep breath and sighed. His heart hurt, so he knew there had been something between them, and that was all that really mattered.

Opening his eyes, Xander threw his heartbreak into cleaning. The sink shined, the toilet gleamed, the shower stall was mildew free for the first time in years. Xander even scrubbed the grout between the tiles on the floor until it went from dingy gray to less dingy gray. By the time he was done, he was high on cleaning fumes and he no longer felt like he wanted to cry.

Xander washed his hands, picked up the bucket, and prepared himself for another onslaught of Spike’s remarks. He was sure they were to come, considering Xander had been cleaning the bathroom for at least an hour or more. He’d likely hear something about hiding, weeping, and having his masculinity called into question. Nothing he hadn’t heard before.

Xander opened and strode through the door with self-mockery firmly in place. “All right, Spike, let’s hear it. Have I been crying like a little girl? Should I go and search for my balls? What’s it going to be?”

A gasp came from the direction of Spike’s chair, and Xander pulled up short. He stared uncomprehendingly at Spike. “How did you change your clothes? And what is up with that hair?”

Spike looked like he’d stepped out of one the movies Giles had made the gang watch on PBS. He wore a tan suit, a gray vest, and a high collared white shirt with a weirdly short, orange checkered tie. His hair was no longer a brushed back peroxide blond. Instead, he had somewhat curly, regular blond hair brushed forward on his forehead.

Spike pushed himself deeper into the chair, and he looked at Xander with wide, frightened eyes. “Wh-who are you? What- what are you going to do with m-me?”

“Oh, ha-ha. Very funny.” Xander went around the chair to deposit the cleaning supplies on the shelf at the bottom of the stairs. “I don’t know how you did it, but I’m impressed.”

“Par-pardon?”

“I must not have tied you down tight enough.” Xander walked over to Spike and tested the tension of the rope. The rope was taut, causing Xander to frown. “Huh.”

Spike cringed away from him, and started taking short, panic-sounding breaths. “I- I do not know who you are, but I have- I have money. L-Let me go, and I shall give it to you.”

“What is wrong with you?” Xander noticed that Spike was sweating, causing the blond hair to cling to his forehead. “Are you sick?”

Spike had tears in his eyes and begged in a whisper, “Please, let me go.”

“Okay, you are officially wigging me out.” Xander stepped away from him and made a beeline for the phone. Whatever was going on, he didn’t want to be the one to deal with it. He hadn’t wanted Spike in the first place. He dialed Giles’s number and waited for the man to pick up.

“Giles residence.”

“Giles, it’s Xander,” Xander said into the receiver. “Something’s wiggy with Spike. Like, super-wiggy. He’s acting like he doesn’t know who I am and is talking to me like I’m a kidnapper.”

“He is playing you, Xander. There is nothing to be alarmed about,” Giles said over the line.

“I know that he’s probably playing me, but that doesn’t explain why he’s sweating and teary eyed, or how he managed to change his hair and clothes while tied to a chair.”

“How do you mean?”

“He’s wearing a suit and his hair is no longer bleached.” Xander frowned at Spike’s differently blond head. “An hour ago, he was normal, and dressed like he’s usually dressed.”

“The ropes must not have been tied tightly.”

“I checked the ropes. They’re secure. There’s no way he could’ve gotten out of them, changed, and tied himself back up again.”

Giles made a faint sound of irritation. “I suppose if it would ease your mind, I shall pay a visit and deal with him.”

“Yes, I am all for you dealing with him. Feel free to take him home with you, too.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Giles said. “I shall see you shortly.”

Xander hung up after Giles disconnected. He turned toward Spike and folded his arms. “Whatever you’re pulling isn’t going to fool Giles. You might as well give it up.”

Spike cringed again. “I d-do not know of wh-what you are speaking.”

Xander rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you do, but I’m not going to sleep in the same room with you acting like this.”

“Sleep?” Spike squeaked. “Oh, dear.”

And then he passed out.

Xander stared in shock. “Did you really just pass out?” He approached, certain this was a ploy, and shook Spike’s shoulder, hard. “C’mon, Evil Dead. If you’re doing this to distract me from Anya, it worked.”

Spike didn’t stir.

Xander frowned. What the hell? Vampires didn’t randomly faint. He shook Spike hard again, causing Spike’s head to flop around. Definitely out of it. Or the best acting, ever. He didn’t win any awards for best costume, though.

Xander checked the ropes once more, and found them still tied tightly. There was no way Spike could’ve gotten himself re-tied without help. Could Anya have sneaked back inside to play a dirty trick on Xander, as a punctuation to their breakup? “No, that’s stupid,” Xander said to himself, as he went to the mini-fridge. He retrieved a water, opened the cap, and took a long drink. Anya wasn’t the tricky type. And it didn’t explain the passing out part.

Unless it was the chip. Xander paused in taking another sip, as he eyed Spike. Could the chip have malfunctioned? Made Spike think he was kidnapped? Made him pass out? Made him… change clothes?

Okay, that was stupid, too. Xander sighed. Why did he have to put up with this? Because he was a spineless sucker who didn’t say no to Giles. He probably wouldn’t have said no, anyway, even if he had a spine, since Giles didn’t ask for much and took care of Xander in a way his own father never had.

Spike still didn’t stir. It was getting annoying. Xander set his drink down on the coffee table, approached Spike again, and gave him a solid slap on the cheek. “Wake up!”

Nothing. No reaction, save for a reddening hand print on Spike’s cheek. It had to be the chip. What if it had scrambled Spike’s brain into a gloppy mess, for real? What if he was dead? “Crap. Don’t be dead-dead.” Xander put his hand to Spike’s neck reflexively at the thought, checking for a pulse, before he realized what he was doing.

But then he felt a pulse.

“What the…?!” Xander jumped back from Spike as if he’d been burned. He couldn’t have felt a pulse. It was his imagination. Spike was a vampire. They didn’t have pulses. Xander was losing his mind. The cleaning fumes had gotten to him. Yeah, that was it.

Xander approached Spike again and tentatively laid his hand against Spike’s neck. After a moment, he could clearly feel a pulse beating against his fingers. “Ho-boy.” Xander hadn’t been losing his mind. He moved his hand, placing it against Spike’s chest beneath the weird tie. A heart beat firmly against his palm. “Ho-boy!”

Spike’s heart was beating.

Spike was not dead.

Spike was… alive?

Xander sank onto the coffee table, staring, mouth agape, at Spike. How could this be? He was sure Spike had been dead when he’d gone to clean the bathroom. Or undead. Or whatever vampires were claiming to be.

A spell. This had to be a spell. Or a dream. Yes, a dream. That would explain why Anya broke up with him. He was asleep and dreaming, and when he woke up, he’d still have a girlfriend and there would still be an annoyingly talkative vampire tied to the barcalounger.

Xander squeezed his eyelids shut and pinched his arm hard. “Ow!” He opened his eyes, rubbing his arm. Oddly dressed Spike was still in the chair across from him. Not a dream, then. Damn.

Leaning forward, Xander examined Spike more closely. Same sharp cheekbones. Same weak chin. Same scar in his eyebrow. He didn’t have any chipped black nail polish on his fingernails, though. And he seemed to be breathing. Vampires didn’t breathe. At least, involuntarily. They had to take breaths in order to talk, and they did gasp in pain. Xander never truly understood vampire anatomy beyond “stake here,” but he was sure Willow talked about it once, when Buffy first started seeing Angel.

Xander glanced at his watch, then stood and went back the mini-fridge. Water wasn’t going to cut it. His current freakage called for a nice, cold Yoo-hoo. His breakup blues – which didn’t feel so bluesy anymore – also called for a nice, cold Yoo-hoo. Everything looked better after a Yoo-hoo.

Giles arrived a half-hour after Xander had called him, with Buffy and Willow in tow. Xander was on his fourth Yoo-hoo. Spike hadn’t stirred. When he passed out, he passed out for good. “Welcome, Giles and Gals, to the Xander Abode,” Xander welcomed. “Tonight, you shall find a vampire who might not be a vampire anymore, passed out in a chair.”

“‘A vampire who might not be a vampire?’ What’re you talking about?” Buffy said, as she followed Willow and Giles inside. Both girls wore what Xander dubbed college chic: over-sized tunic-type shirts with leggings. Giles was dressed like his usual stuffy self, complete with sweater vest. The weather was still warm outside, for December in California. Not that it ever got super-cold, but usually it’d be jacket weather by now.

Willow eyed the mostly empty Yoo-hoo in Xander’s hand. “How many of those have you had?”

“This is number six.”

“Uh-oh. What happened?” Willow was immediately Concerned Girl.

Xander draped his arm over her shoulder. “Nothing that Giles can’t fix by taking Spike out of my house.”

“Spike caused you to Yoo-hoo?”

Buffy and Giles had stopped in front of Spike’s chair, blocking Willow’s view. Xander steered Willow around them so she could see Spike in all his passed out, PBS-glory. “One of the reasons.”

“Oh!” Willow gasped in surprise. “Giles had said that you were rambling about changing clothes and hair, but we didn’t think you meant literally.”

Xander glared at Giles. “‘Rambling?’”

Giles cleared his throat. “Ahem. Yes. My apologies.”

Buffy nudged Spike in the shin with the tip of her toe. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He passed out.” Xander said.

She frowned. “Vampires don’t pass out. At least, not ones not in pain.” She suddenly brightened hopefully. “Was he in pain?”

“Dunno.” Xander chugged the rest of his Yoo-hoo. He needed another one.

“And you said that he was not wearing this- this outfit, nor was his hair this way, when you left the room?” Giles asked.

“Nope. He looked like the same ol’ Spike we know and despise.”

“And you checked the ropes?”

“Yes, I checked the ropes. They’re secure.” Xander left Willow with the others and dropped his empty Yoo-hoo bottle into the recycling can. He fetched a new one from the mini-fridge.

Buffy stepped closer to the chair and checked the ropes again. “They’re pretty tight.” She ran her fingers through Spike’s hair, and then gave it a tug. “Not a wig. And there’s no way he could strip his hair that fast.”

“This is weird,” Willow said. “Hellmouth weird, I get. But this? Is weird-weird. Twilight Zone weird.”

“It gets weirder,” Xander said, cracking open the Yoo-hoo. “His heart is beating.”

“What?”

“No way.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Xander gestured with the Yoo-hoo. “See for yourself.”

Buffy slapped a hand on Spike’s chest immediately. Willow crowded by the chair to check the pulse in his neck. Giles removed his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief. Xander downed half the Yoo-hoo in one long, chocolatey-delicious gulp.

Willow and Buffy exchanged wide-eyed looks. “I can feel his pulse,” Willow said.

“I can feel his heart beating,” Buffy added.

“Oh, my,” Giles intoned.

“Anya broke up with me.” The three turned to stare at Xander like he’d grown a second head. He shrugged. “Thought I’d get that out there, before someone wondered where she was.”

“I think we’re too busy wiggin’ over Spike having a heart beat,” Buffy said, her hand still on Spike’s chest.

But Willow had Xander’s back, even though he knew she really didn’t like Anya. “Oh, no!” Willow came over and gave him a hug. “Now I know why you Yoo-hoo. You Yoo-hoo all you want. Do you want me to find a spell make her hair fall out?”

Xander smiled crookedly, his heart lifting with her question. “No, that’s okay. But thanks for the offer.”

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me,” Willow said.

“I’m, ah, sorry to hear about your break up, Xander,” Giles said, showing discomfort. He was never the best at dealing with their relationship woes. But at least he tried, which was more than Xander could say his parents ever did.

Xander toasted Giles with his Yoo-hoo. “Thanks, G-man.”

Giles put his glasses back on and focused on Spike. “I suppose we had best rouse Spike and determine what has befallen him.”

“I could slap him,” Buffy offered, seeming eager to do so.

Xander shook his head. “I tried that before, didn’t work.”

“I believe smelling salts would be best.” Giles gave Buffy a chiding glance at her immediate pout. “I do not posses any on me. But if you have something pungent-smelling, Xander, that should do it.”

“Will dirty socks work?”

“No. It will need to be something stronger. Something chemical.”

“I’ll look for something,” Willow volunteered. Xander pointed her toward the cleaning supplies at the base of the stairs leading up to the main house. They’d known each other since kindergarten, but she never spent much time at Xander’s. Xander had preferred playing over at her house, with sober parents who offered cookies.

“How long did you say he’s been unconscious?” Giles asked Xander.

“He conked out right after I called you.”

“Got something,” Willow said. She had a bottle of cleaner. “This has ammonia in it.”

“That should do nicely.” Giles took the bottle from her and stepped up beside the chair. Buffy backed up, as Giles opened the cap and stuck the lip of the bottle under Spike’s nose.

The effect was fast. Spike snapped back to consciousness with a jerk of his head away from the scent. Giles moved the bottle, capped it, and passed it back to Willow. “Spike, can you hear me?”

Spike blinked several times, as if trying to clear his eyes, and then looked around wildly. He took in the three additional people and visibly started to panic. “Who are you? Wh-what do you want f-f-from me?”

“Cut the crap, Spike. Tell us why you have a heart beat,” Buffy demanded, fisted hands on her hips.

“Wh-wh-why do you keep calling m-me Spike?” Spike’s anxious gaze darted between Buffy, Giles and Xander. “That is n-not my name.”

Buffy scoffed, but Giles played along. “What is your name, then?”

“William,” Spike said. “William Pratt. P-Please, I have money. If you would please let me go.”

“Wait, wasn’t Spike’s name William? You know, before he became all Grr?” Willow said, making Monty Python bunny fangs with her fingers.

“I believe so,” Giles said. He pondered Spike a moment before asking, “William, what year is it?”

Confusion briefly pierced the frightened look on Spike’s face. “It is 1874, of course.”

With that bombshell, Xander, Willow, Giles and Buffy retreated to the small space by the washer and dryer. Willow put the cleaner away. Xander offered everyone a Yoo-hoo, and got two takers.

“He’s gotta be lying,” Buffy said, tossing her Yoo-hoo cap into the trash. They stood close together, to talk without being overheard. Not that it would work; the basement wasn’t that big. “There’s no way he thinks it’s 1874.”

Willow glanced over at Spike. “But what about his clothes? Those look old-timey enough.”

Giles began cleaning his glasses again, a habit when he was in deep thought. “I admit, it is perplexing.”

“Could be that his chip malfunctioned,” Xander suggested, bringing up his thinking from earlier.

Willow shook her head. “That doesn’t explain the heart beat.” She addressed Giles. “When did Spike get turned?”

“I believe the reference material cites approximately 1880.”

Willow worried the Yoo-hoo bottle between her hands. “Do you think maybe that could be human Spike? He wasn’t a vampire in 1874.”

“C’mon, Wills, how can that be?” Buffy said. “It’s 1999. Spike’s been a vampire for a hundred and… something-something years. He can’t just suddenly turn human again.”

“Why not?”

Buffy flapped her hands in the air. Yoo-hoo splashed over the lip of the glass container. “Because… because it’s ridiculous!”

“Hm…,” Giles hummed, thoughtfully. It was a favorite sound of his. Xander was amused. “If somehow Spike has become human again, it does not explain why he believes it is 1874, nor why his name is William Pratt.”

“Malfunctioning chip, like I said,” Xander said.

“What about his clothes?” Willow pointed out.

Xander searched for an answer. “Maybe time travel?”

“But if it’s time travel, then he’s here now and not there then, and we wouldn’t remember him,” Willow said. “He has to be in the past to create this future.”

“Maybe we send him back before he gets turned, and then the present future stays the same,” Xander countered. He had watched many a time travel movie over the years, and knew all the variations of the rules.

“But what about Spike? Vampire Spike, not whoever this is,” Buffy said, with a gesture at the Spike in the barcalounger. “Where did he go?”

“Back into the past?” Willow ventured.

“Wouldn’t Giles know about it, then? From the records?”

The three friends looked at Giles. Giles shrugged. “I would have to check again, but I, ah, do not recall a vampire named Spike or one similar to Spike using a different name in the 1870s.”

“Well, let’s go.” Buffy headed for the door. “The idea that Spike is not the Spike I want to beat up on a daily basis freaks me out.”

“What about him?” Xander asked, motioning to Spike. Or William. Or whomever he was. Xander wanted him out.

“I do not believe he is going anywhere,” Giles said, indicating the ropes.

“But he could scream his head off, and my parents will come down, and I do not want to have to explain why I have a man tied to a chair in their basement.”

Giles sighed. “Very well. We will take him with us.”

The time travel idea gained credence when Spike passed out again in the car.

“Automobiles didn’t become prevalent in England until the 1890s,” Giles informed them.

“Poor guy. This must be overwhelming,” Willow said. She and Xander sat in the back seat, with Spike tied up between them. Spike’s head bounced onto Xander’s shoulder, and Xander jostled him away.

The streets were crowded on the Sunday afternoon. People were out Christmas shopping, carrying multiple bags and boxes up and down the sidewalks and to their cars. Garland decorated light posts and the shops displayed holiday themes in their front windows. Xander could see the town’s Christmas tree on the courthouse’s front lawn.

“We don’t even know if it’s true,” Buffy said, twisting her her seat to look back at Willow. “He could still be lying. Or have a chip malfunction, like Xander said. Or be under a spell.”

“A spell that turns vampires into humans?”

Buffy grew hopeful. “Maybe.”

“I don’t know. I’d’ve thought we would’ve read about it by now, if there was a spell,” Willow said, with a small frown. “The Romani curse was the closest I’ve found. And I read about some sort of Demon Trials that can grant wishes, but Spike was tied to a chair. Unless the trials involve sitting. Or being tied up.”

They arrived at Giles’s apartment, and Buffy hauled the unconscious Spike inside. She dumped him in the chair in the living room. Afternoon sunshine streamed through the windows that flanked the fireplace. Giles’s dining table was strewn with books and a half-eaten sandwich on a plate. Most available surfaces, such as the counter between the dining area and galley kitchen, the desk, the marble coffee table in front of the brown sofa, atop the stereo, the fireplace mantle, the floor along the corners of the room, and the bookshelves themselves, were covered with books or boxes of books, retrieved or rescued from the Sunnydale High School library before the school blew up. Normally, Giles was tidier than this.

Willow followed Xander into the apartment. “Researching something?”

“Um, yes.” Giles picked up the plate and headed for the kitchen. “Something for A-Angel.”

“Nothing apocalyptic, I hope,” Buffy said, flopping onto the couch.

“Obscure, but it did not seem dire,” Giles told her. She appeared relieved.

“Should I get the ammonia, so we can wake Spike up again?” Willow asked.

“I have actual smelling salts in the cupboard in the bathroom,” Giles told her. She nodded and trotted off down the hall.

Xander picked up a book at random, as he sank onto the couch next to Buffy. “So what are we looking for? Time traveling vampires? Vampires becoming human? Spike’s Adventures through History?”

“That should get us started,” Giles said. He took the smelling salts from Willow when she returned. “The vampire annals should be in one of the boxes near the fireplace.”

“I’ll take that one.” Buffy got up, snagged the box, and pull it closer to the couch.

“I guess I’ll do time travel,” Willow said. “Xander, do you want to work on time travel with me, or vampires becoming human?”

“I’ll let Giles have fun re-researching the last one, since you said you hadn’t read about it,” Xander said. Willow preened quietly at the implied compliment. “Time travel it is, it was, it will be, and it has will have been.”

Willow giggled, and settled with a box of books on the other side of Xander, making him the creamy center of a Willow/Buffy Oreo. And he’d had way too many Yoo-hoos. A Willow/Buffy Oreo? “Giles, do you have any Oreos?”

“No, but I may have chocolate digestives on hand.”

“Eew, no thanks.”

Giles was about to use the smelling salts on Spike, when Buffy suddenly said, “Wait!” She jumped up from the couch, went over to the weapons cabinet, and retrieved a cross and small vial of holy water. “Let’s verify that he’s not somehow pretending to be human.”

“I believe the beating heart proves that, but by all means.” Giles motioned for her to go ahead.

Buffy slapped the wooden cross against Spike’s cheek. Nothing happened. She tried a few more places of exposed skin with the same result. Dousing his hand in holy water did nothing but make him wet. “Guess he’s human. Or not a vampire, at least.”

“You think he could be something that looks like a human but isn’t a human?” Xander asked. Buffy shrugged.

“Before we delve into more outré theories, we should focus on the possibility that Spike is human,” Giles said.

“I think we can untie him,” Willow said. “I don’t think human Spike- I mean, William is a threat.”

Xander frowned. “What if he tries to escape?”

“I can tackle him before he gets to the door,” Buffy pointed out, retaking her seat on the couch beside him. She set the cross and empty vial on a stack of books on the coffee table.

Giles agreed, and untied Spike’s hands before waving the smelling salts under Spike’s nose, who roused immediately. After a brief flash of confusion, fright came across Spike’s features again. “Where am I?”

“You’re in my flat,” Giles told him. “We’re going to try and figure out what has happened with you.”

Spike shrank back in his chair. “I would very much like to go home now, thank you.”

“He sounds way too much like you, Giles,” Xander commented. “All stuffy and proper. Not at all like Spike.”

“Yes, well, we do not know what Spike sounded like prior to- to him becoming a vampire.” Giles recapped the smelling salts. “If this is indeed time travel we are dealing with.”

“Why would he change how he talks?” Buffy said. “That’s weird.”

“Language adapts the longer you are immersed in it,” Giles told her. “At times, I find myself uttering phrases that I have picked up from you, much to my chagrin.”

Buffy grinned. Willow perched on the arm of the sofa nearest to Spike, and addressed him. “You said your name was William Pratt?”

“Y-Yes,” Spike stammered. He kept glancing toward the door.

“I’m Willow. And this is Buffy, Xander, and Giles,” Willow introduced with a gesture toward each of them. “This is going to sound really weird to you, but you weren’t you when we tied you up earlier today.”

“Pardon?”

“You think it’s 1874, right?” Willow said. Spike nodded. “Have you heard of time travel?”

“Time travel wasn’t a common idea until 1895, when H.G. Wells published The Time Machine, outside of long-sleep stories, such as Rip Van Winkle,” Giles informed her, as he cleared a space on his desk to work. This seemed to involve moving books from one side to another and back again. Xander found it amusing to watch.

“Oh, well, um...” Willow searched for a new tactic. “Okay, somehow you are no longer in 1874. You’re in 1999. The future.”

Spike didn’t look like he believed a word out of her mouth. “May I go h-home now?”

“You don’t have a home to go to,” Willow said. “It’s over a hundred years later, and we’re not in… hey, where was Spike from?”

“London,” Giles replied.

“Thanks. We’re not in London, anyway. We’re in Sunnydale. California. In the United States.”

“Was California even around in 1874?” Xander asked.

“Yes, it became a state in 1850. We learned this in school, Xander,” Willow chastised.

Xander shrugged. “I learned how to sleep in school. And research demons. Not much else.”

Spike still didn’t appear to believe her. Buffy perked. “I have an idea. Willow, do you know when lights were invented?”

“Edison, 1879,” Willow said promptly. She appeared pleased that she knew the answer off the top of her head.

“Perfect.” Buffy jumped up. “Hey, Spike, watch this.” She turned on the lamp next to the couch.

Spike stared at the lamp, and looked like he was going to pass out again. Buffy bounced around the room, turning on all the lights. “Ta-da! E-lec-tricity!”

“Um… I would very much like to go home now,” Spike repeated in a plaintive whisper.

Willow wrung her hands. “I’m out of ideas.”

Buffy approached Spike. “Listen, do you understand that it’s 1999, not 1874?”

Spike nodded warily.

“And that you’re not in London?”

Another nod.

“So we can’t send you home, at least not yet. We don’t know how, or how you got here to begin with, or even if you’re a time traveler and not Spike with really bad amnesia. That’s why we’re here, at Giles’, to do research.”

Another nod.

“I think he’s humoring you, Buffster,” Xander said.

Buffy sighed. “Giles, can I borrow your car?”

“P-Pardon?” Giles looked up from the books he was sorting.

“I’m going to take Spike for a ride around Sunnydale, so he can see the truth. If he doesn’t pass out again.”

“Very well.” Giles handed her the keys. “Do be careful.”

“When am I not careful?” Buffy said. Giles gave her a look. She smiled innocently, and motioned to Spike. “C’mon, Spi- er, William. You wanted to leave, we’re leaving, but don’t say we didn’t tell you that you’re not in Kansas anymore. Or London, in your case.”

Spike looked nervously at all of them before rising and scurrying after her out of the apartment.

Xander looked at Willow. “How much you want to bet he’s going to faint again?”

“I’m not that gullible,” Willow said. She sat on the couch next to Xander again and dove into the books.

Xander shifted from time travel to the vampire annals while Buffy was gone. The Watchers were meticulous when it came to records, and since Xander had a starting year, 1874, he didn’t have to comb through pages and pages to find – or not find – a lost vampire.

A studious hush fell over the apartment. It was familiar, comfortable. Xander wasn’t big on reading books, but he’d learned how to research like a pro over the past three years. It was one of the few things he was good at in the core circle of evil defenders. Willow and Giles could do magic, and Buffy was Superwoman without the flying or cape. Xander’s primary ability was cracking sarcastic jokes, not exactly a deadly skill even if he thought his humor killed.

Xander went from 1874 through 1889 without finding any anomalies. Spike showed up as William the Bloody in 1880, sired by Drusilla, who was sired by Angelus, who was sired by Darla, and so on and so forth. He was in a gang with the others called The Whirlwind, which was a dumb name. Their exploits were well known to the Watchers, who dutifully recorded, but did not deal with, them.

Buffy returned eventually with Spike still in tow, walking under his own power, shoulders slumped, his expression one of mixed dismay and marvel. “We’re back. William gets it now. I think it was watching them make drinks at the Espresso Pump that was the clincher. Or maybe my microwaving a taquito at the Circle K.” She handed Giles back his car keys. “I filled the tank. You were running on fumes.”

“Thank you, Buffy.” Giles set the keys on his desk, likely to be lost under a tower of books.

“How many times did he pass out?” Xander asked, as Spike sank down into the chair with stunned distress.

“None, though I slapped him once to stop him.” Buffy dropped down beside Xander on the couch. “He kinda stopped talking, though, once we got downtown.” She glanced at the book Xander had in his hands. “Find out anything?”

“I didn’t find Spike – our Spike – doing things he shouldn’t be doing in the past,” Xander told her. “The first time Spike gets mentioned, it’s as William the Bloody in 1880.”

She took the book from him. “I’ll keep looking. Maybe there will be two Spikes doing something in two different places at the same time later on.”

“I got to 1889,” Xander said. Buffy nodded, and started reading. Xander grabbed a book from Willow’s pile, shifting his focus to time travel evidence or spells. He resettled into his comfortable research routine. Spike alternated staring at his hands and pinching the bridge of his nose. Drinks were passed out, pizza was ordered. Spike’s stomach growled when the pizza arrived.

“Does anyone know when pizza was invented?” Xander said as he opened one of the boxes in the kitchen. He plated up several pieces for each of them. They all knew the rules about not getting grease on the books.

“Probably after 1874, like everything else,” Buffy said, as Xander came back to the living room. She held out her hands. “Gimme, gimme.”

Xander passed Giles a plate, then gave one to Willow and Buffy. He held out one to Spike. “You’re in for a treat. Best meal on the planet.”

Spike stared a moment before accepting the plate. “It is triangular bread with meat and what appears to be melted cheese.”

Xander sank back onto the couch. “Also known as ‘pizza’. It’s Italian for ‘best food ever.’”

“I don’t think that’s what ‘pizza’ actually means,” Willow said.

Xander shrugged and took a bite of mostly hot, cheesy, meaty goodness. He hummed in appreciation. He saw Spike watching them eat before picking up one of the pieces on the plate and trying a bite. He appeared surprised – again – and pleased. “This is quite delightful.”

“Has anyone found anything yet?” Willow asked between bites.

“I have found no references to vampires becoming human again, as of yet,” Giles told her.

Buffy shook her head. “Nothing about two Spikes popping up, either.”

“And I haven’t found any time travel spells,” Xander said. “What about you, Willow?”

“Nope. The only reference to time travel I’ve found is about the theories. Like, you can’t travel to the future, only the past. And you can’t change anything, or you end up with a different future.”

“But Spike- er, William came from the past,” Buffy pointed out. “And isn’t he being here changing things?”

“In a time loop, he wouldn’t change things,” Willow replied. “If we get him back to where he belongs before 1880, things should still be the same.”

“But wouldn’t Spike have remembered us?” Buffy said. “Spike-Spike, not this William-Spike. Ugh. Too many Spikes.”

“Perhaps we should call William by his name,” Giles suggested. Spike continued to eat his pizza slowly, warily watching them as they conversed. He did not volunteer his opinion.

Buffy nodded. “Okay. William is William and Spike is Spike. Spike would’ve recognized us if he’d been here as William, and he didn’t.”

“So maybe not time travel? Or not time travel from our timeline?” Willow suggested. “Oh! Like with the other me. The evil, skanky one. She didn’t come from our timeline. She came from the one Anya made. Maybe William is from there.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes at Xander. “Is Anya a demon again?”

“Not that I know of,” Xander said. “Besides, she broke up with me, not the other way around. No vengeance to be had.”

“I guess there’d be two Spikes, then, anyway, not one replacing the other,” Willow said. “And that’s a horrifying thought.”

Xander agreed with Willow. One Spike had managed to do enough damage to the group when he was in town last year. Two Spikes would cause Scooby Gang annihilation, without laying a hand on them.

Buffy ate more pizza before asking, “So, what, we’re back to time travel? Or malfunctioning chip amnesia human spell?”

Giles dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “Both are, er, still strong possibilities.”

“Hortence!”

“Bless you,” Willow said, and offered Xander a napkin to use as a tissue.

“No, no, Hortence!” Xander exclaimed. “Anya’s friend. She was with Anya when Anya came over to break up with me. How much do you want to bet that she was a vengeance demon?”

“Oh!” Willow clapped her hands. “If she has the same powers as Anya, she’d be able to bring William here from our past, or any time.”

“I’ll call Anya and find out.” Xander jumped up, set his empty plate on a box of books, and hurried over to the phone on Giles’s desk. Giles rose and retreated to the kitchen. Xander dialed. He hoped Anya hadn’t started on her Passport Adventure already.

Anya answered the phone on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Anya, good, you’re still here.”

“Oh, Xander. Did you call me to beg me to come back to you and be your girlfriend?” Anya said over the line.

“Um, no. I’m calling about your friend Hortence,” Xander said.

“You want her to be your girlfriend?”

“No! No. I’m calling to find out if she’s a vengeance demon.”

“Oh. Yes, she is.”

Xander gave a thumbs up to the gang. “Did she, by any chance, do something to Spike?”

Anya sighed. “Yes. You wished he would still be human, so she granted it.”

“I did?” Xander didn’t remember that, but he’d been reeling from the Anya dumpage, so maybe he had. “Okay. Anyway, do you know what she actually did?”

“What do you mean? I just told you.”

“No. I mean, this Spike says he’s from 1874. And he spontaneously changed clothes into an old time suit. If she just turned him human, wouldn’t he still be the 1999 version with less fang?”

“He is, but he is not. She has taken him from a time when he was still human and put him in Spike’s body.”

“Wouldn’t he still be a vampire?”

“Not any longer.”

“So, time travel, then? Wouldn’t that screw up our own timeline?”

Anya paused, thinking. “I am not sure. Hold on. I will ask.”

Xander spoke to the room, while Anya was away from the phone. “We might have time travel for the win.”

“Hooray!” Buffy cheered sarcastically.

“This means you really are from 1874, William,” Willow told Spike. “You might be the first time traveling human in existence!”

Spike smiled weakly. Or not Spike, William. Xander was going to have to get used to thinking of him with that name. And remembering that he wasn’t a vampire anymore. It was beyond weird. But, Hellmouth.

“I am back,” Anya said over the phone. “Hortence said that he is a copy, not the original, and that she matched his physical self to that copy, including his appearance and clothing. Our timeline will not change.”

“That’s… confusing. And reassuring, I guess. Thanks, Anya. Um, have fun traveling.”

“I will. Goodbye, Xander.”

“Yeah. Goodbye, Anya.”

Anya disconnected, and Xander felt a crash of sadness come over him again. He squashed it down. He’d drown himself in Yoo-hoo again later. “According to Anya, who said according to Hortence, William here is a copy of 1874 William, not the actual 1874 William. So time travel and not time travel, at the same time… travel.”

Everyone looked as confused as Xander felt. “Will it effect our timeline?” Giles asked.

Xander shook his head. “No, ‘cuz it’s not the real Spike from back then.”

“He’s Memorex?” Buffy grinned.

Xander shrugged. “Pretty much, I guess.”

Willow nibbled her lower lip, thinking. “If he’s not the actual in-our-past William, that means we can’t send him back to the past.”

William, for his part, looked as befuddled as everyone else. “Does that mean I cannot go home?”

“Um...” Willow glanced at the others. Giles nodded to her. “You don’t actually have a home to go back to, because you never existed until now.”

William’s posture deflated, though his expression now bordered on madness. “Perhaps I am dreaming. When I awake, I shall be in my bed in London, where lights are lit by flame and food is not prepared in a humming box.”

Buffy walked over and pinched him. “Ouch!”

“Not dreaming,” Buffy said. “Besides, why would we be in your dream? You don’t even know us.”

“He is human, though, right?” Willow asked Xander. “That’s what Anya said.”

Xander nodded. “Yeah. Hortence put the copy into Spike’s body, but made that body human.”

“I wonder if he still has the chip, then?”

“I guess he could punch me, and we can find out,” Buffy suggested, but her expression was pained.

“I do not believe it matters at this time,” Giles forestalled. “If somehow he becomes involved in an altercation, we shall have our answer then.”

“So, what now?” Xander asked.

“I’m going on patrol.” Buffy grabbed her lightweight jacket from the hooks by the door and left before anyone could stop her.

Xander frowned. “What was that about?”

“Um, hello?” Willow gave Xander a look that said he was beyond stupid. “Your ex-girlfriend’s friend turned Spike into a human.”

“So?”

Willow sighed loudly. “Don’t you think maybe she’d want a different vampire turned human?”

Xander clued in. “Ooooh. Duh. Angel.”

“Yeah, duh, Angel.”

Xander picked up the phone and re-dialed Anya’s number. “I’ll see if I can fix that.” He hated Angel, but he did love Buffy in a once-lust-now-friend way. He waited for Anya to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Anya, me again,” Xander said into the phone.

“What is it now?” Anya said.

“Any chance Hortence could make Angel into a human like she did Spike?” he asked. He heard Anya lower the phone and repeat the question to Hortence.

“No,” Anya told him when she raised the phone again. “Buffy would have to make a heartbroken wish when Hortence could hear her for that to occur.”

“Darn,” Xander sighed. “Okay. Thanks, Anya. Have fun traveling. Again. Bye.” He hung up and shook his head. “No dice.”

“So what now?” Willow said.

“I suggest that we finish our meal, followed by your assistance in tidying up,” Giles said, gesturing to the piles of unboxed books before walking over to one of the bookshelves and selecting a volume from it. “Meanwhile, William may peruse this.”

William took the book when proffered. “‘A History of the Twentieth Century, by Martin Gilbert. The Concise Edition.’”

“It shall give you a general knowledge of the past century,” Giles told him.

William nodded slowly and removed a pair of oval-shaped glasses with gold rims from the inner pocket of his tan suit jacket. He placed them on his nose before cracking the book’s spine.

“I didn’t know you needed glasses,” Willow said, with a smile she would normally give a cute puppy. Xander eyed William. Now that he was no longer an evil, blood-sucking fiend, Xander supposed cute puppy might apply.

William adjusted the glasses. “Only to read.”

“That explains… nothing, actually. But it’s amusing.” Xander clapped his hands together. “Who wants more pizza?”

William Pratt was near to fainting again. He could tell by the way his head swum and his heart pounded in his chest. He had a delicate constitution, according to his mother. His father called him a namby-pamby, which was a joke on him because William enjoyed the pastoral works of Ambrose Phillips. At the moment, William was confused, frightened, and either kidnapped by a group of lunatics, or he was the lunatic. The situation he had found himself in was dreadful, and he did not know how he would escape. Or even if he should escape.

For what if they were telling the truth? What if he was this “copy”? It apparently meant false duplicate, a dopplegänger. If he were a dopplegänger, did this mean he was going to die? Or would he have to meet himself first? To meet one’s dopplegänger meant that one’s death was imminent. It was a popular symbol in horror literature, not that William enjoyed that type of work. He preferred poetry, and was studying it at University.

Another possibility was that he was trapped in madness, induced by the tart he’d had for pudding. He could be lying abed in the grips of a twisted, fevered dream. His mother would be dabbing his sweating brow with a damp, cool cloth, praying for his health. Any moment, he might pass into the waiting arms of death.

However, the dream theory did not provide for the amazements he’d seen. Lights with no flame, moving carriages with no horses, food that was prepared in a variety of boxes. Machines that whizzed and blared and banged. Ladies with their full legs showing. Things he did not believe he could ever invent, even with fever prompting him.

He observed the others over the rims of his glasses, as they ate more pizza and tidied the room. They did not seem to wish him harm. If their words were to go by, they had been attempting to assist him. If they were real people and not figments of a deluded mind.

Dopplegänger or madness, he supposed it was prudent that he went along with this reality until he awoke or succumbed to the grave.

The decision cleared his head, and he no longer felt faint. Relieved, he turned his attention to the book the man named Giles had given him. Skimming the chapter index, his head immediately swum again. Oh, dear. Perhaps if he ate more of the delicious thing called “pizza,” he would feel better.

“Um, might I obtain more pizza?” he asked.

“Help yourself,” Xander said, pointing over his shoulder toward the kitchen.

William rose cautiously, and when no one jumped on him, he ventured into the kitchen. He somewhat recognized a stove and the sink, of course, and there was one of the magic humming boxes. Plenty of cupboard space. The pizza was nearly gone from the boxes, and William added a piece to his plate.

Xander came into the kitchen and opened one of the cupboards. A light shone from inside of it. Quizzically, William glanced inside, and saw an array of food stuffs. “Does lighting your food assist it in some way?”

“Huh?” Xander’s brows furrowed as he glanced at William. William motioned to the lighted cupboard. Xander looked back at it, and then chuckled. “Oh. Yeah. No. This is the fridge. It keeps cold things cold, and the freezer keeps cold things colder. The light’s in there just to help you see. Check it out.”

Xander reached into the “fridge” and removed a colorful can that read Cola on its side. He handed it to William. William was surprised to find that it was chilled. He glanced into the “fridge” again. “Where is the ice to keep it cold?”

“The ice is up here.” Xander opened the upper cupboard door, to expose a frosty, food packed area. He pulled out a tray, which had tiny cubes of ice in it. “You want a glass?”

“I… all right,” William agreed. He had decided to play into this reality, so he may as well go at it full tilt.

Xander took the Cola back from him, and retrieved a glass from another cupboard. He put a few of the tiny ice cubes into the glass, and then opened the can by the tab on the top. He poured a heavy-looking brown liquid into the glass over the ice. The ice crackled, and the liquid fizzed. Picking up the filled glass, he held it out to William. “Here you go.”

“I thank you,” William said, accepting it. He took a tentative sip. The fizz tickled his nose. The drink tasted syrupy-sweet. It paired well with the salty taste of the pizza.

Xander took another can of Cola from the “fridge” and opened it. He drank straight from the can. Leaning a hip against the counter, he studied William. “This has got to be a total freak fest for you. Freakier than it is for us, anyway.”

William nodded slowly. “Freakish is an apt description.”

“Yeah. Creating copies of people is a new one, even for us.” Xander shook his head. “My girlfriend- ex-girlfriend accidentally brought someone from another timeline into this one last year, which is as close as we got.”

“I see.” William pretended to understand, though he did not. Another timeline? He had never heard of such a thing.

“Don’t worry. It all sounds crazy, but that’s life on the Hellmouth. You get used to it.”

“I thought the name of this town was Sunnydale?”

“It is,” Xander said. “But it’s also where hell has an open door to the surface. You can find it under the high school, which they’re rebuilding after we blew the last one up.”

William reeled. The portal to hell was located in this town? He did not know what a high school was, other than a school. But that did not matter, as hell was apparently accessible beyond the pages of Dante. “Why do you live here?”

“Someone’s gotta keep the local demon population under control,” Xander said, offhandedly. “Which reminds me, don’t go outside after dark.”

William might not go outside ever again.

“Hey, Xan?” Willow called from the dining room. Buffy had returned from wherever she had gone, and was hovering near the front door. “Buffy and I need to get going. We have finals in two weeks and should go back to studying.”

Xander glanced at the band on his wrist. “I should probably jet, too. Work tomorrow.”

William followed Xander out of the kitchen. Willow smiled at William. “I guess it’s right to say, nice meeting you, William. Sorry about all the crazy with the sort-of time travel and, you know, scaring you into unconsciousness.”

William gave her a tentative smile. “Quite all right.” It wasn’t, but he appreciated the overture.

“Bye, William,” Buffy said, as she opened the door to outside. “Try not to get eaten on your first night here.”

“Eaten?” William gulped, and felt his head spin again. “Oh, dear.”

Xander and the ladies left. William set the glass of Cola down on the dining table and gripped the high back of a dining chair. He looked over at Giles, who was still sorting though books, though the number of piles that had been in the room had diminished greatly, the books having found their way back into boxes. “Were they joking?”

“Hm?” Giles drew his attention from the books and turned it to William. “Were they joking?” He glanced at the door and then back at William again. “I suppose it is best to be honest with you, since you are likely here for the duration. Sunnydale is located on what is known as a ‘Hellmouth.’”

“Xander had said as much.”

“Did he? Yes, well, what that means is this town attracts all manner of demons to it. Most prevalent are- are vampires,” Giles said. “You will be relatively safe if you do not venture out of doors after dark. Most creatures tend to hunt at night.”

William’s grip on the chair prevented him from collapsing. His mind was awhirl. Demons, vampires, hell portals. Finding himself in the future, whether real or delirium. Being a possible dopplegänger, which did not seem as vast of an impossibility as it had.

“If you would excuse me, I need to ring someone,” Giles said.

“Ring?”

Giles paused with his hand on a black object sitting on the desk. He murmured something that sounded like, “Was nothing invented before 1874?” before responding to William. “Do you know what a telegram is?”

“Yes,” William said. “I have not had occasion to send or receive one, but my mother has.”

Giles patted the black object. “This is the future of the telegram. Instead of transmitting messages, you are able to speak directly to a person at the other end of the wire. This is a ‘telephone’ and you use it to make a ‘telephone call.’ The telephone rings at the other end, signaling someone is telephoning you, and we British say ‘ring someone’ because of it.”

“I see.” William actually did not, but a majority of this was confounding.

Giles pointed at the book William had left on the chair. “That text should bring you up to, uh, speed, as it were, with the twentieth century. We shall venture to the public library tomorrow for additional material to help you adjust.”

“Tomorrow?” William manged to stop himself from requesting to go home. “I am to remain here, then?”

Giles nodded. “I shall make up the sofa for you.”

“Very well.”

“Now, if you will excuse me?” Giles turned his back to William, picked up the telephone, and pressed a series of buttons. He began speaking into the object after a pause, as if he were having a one-sided conversation. He had seen Xander using the telephone thrice, twice here and once back in the damp, dreary room he’d initially found himself in, tied to a chair. Both included similar one-sided conversations, so William surmised what he’d been told about the telephone was true. Someone elsewhere was speaking to Giles.

William took a breath, held it, and released it slowly, calming his nerves. He was a foreigner in a foreign land, a Robinson Crusoe. Or more aptly, an Alice who’d followed the White Rabbit into Wonderland. If this were not all a fevered-dream, he had best learn what he could about his new reality.

William picked up his glass, returned to his chair, and opened the history text. He began to read.

The week passed without any calls to attend another apocalypse, a handful of vampires staked on patrol with Buffy by Buffy while Xander made snarky comments, and a paycheck that finally would allow Xander to move out of his parents’ basement. Xander was thrilled. The construction job was paying off in more ways than one.

He really enjoyed construction work. It was much better than any of the other jobs he’d held since he’d returned to Sunnydale. He got up early, got home late, and the manual labor stopped him from wallowing in his living situation. It was good, honest work with people who didn’t look down on him because he wasn’t in college. And now he could move somewhere he wasn’t looked down upon for existing.

Xander arrived at Giles’ apartment with a box of donuts, tea, and a nervous smile late Saturday morning. “Giles!” he greeted when the door opened. “I come bearing goodness!”

“Ah, good- good morning, Xander,” Giles stepped back to allow him in. He took one of the teas from the cardboard drink tray as Xander passed. “Did you need something?”

“Only your newspaper.” Something Xander could’ve bought when he got the donuts, but it paved the way for Xander to ask what he really wanted. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for rejection. Hoping beyond hope there wouldn’t be one. “And maybe a co-sign on an apartment if I need one?”

“Of course I will do so,” Giles said immediately. “Simply inform me where and when.”

A gush of warmth spread through Xander. The lack of hesitation, coupled with the agreement, meant more to him than just having a piece of paper signed. “Thank you, Giles.” A school librarian he’d met a few years ago was a better person than any of Xander’s blood relatives. Xander’s parents would never co-sign anything for him, or would anyone he was related to by birth. He only got to live in the basement because his parents liked the rent and food money.

William emerged from the hallway leading to the bathroom, catching Xander’s attention and stopping him from hugging Giles until the other man couldn’t breathe. Xander’s jaw dropped. William looked hot. Gone was the suit with the silly tie. Gone was the old-timey brushed forward hair. He now sported a very short business haircut, and wore a flamingo pink button-down shirt tucked into black chinos. Most men couldn’t pull off pink without threatening their masculinity, but William did not look girly in any way. It also helped that he didn’t look like a loud noise would kill him. He wore his glasses, and his smile of greeting was tentative, but genuine. “Good morning, Xander.”

“Uh...” Xander forced himself to stop drooling and offered the tray. “Tea?”

“Thank you,” William said, approaching to take one of the teas from the tray. Xander never noticed how blue his eyes were.

Xander spun around, nearly losing the last tea – he wasn’t the biggest fan, but he could conform when bribery was needed – and set the donuts and drink tray on the cleared dining table. Xander was bisexual, had been since junior high, and he’d spent the summer exploring that side of himself away from the judgment of his friends. Finding another man attractive wasn’t a novelty. But he couldn’t believe he was ogling Spike. He had never ogled Spike. Spike was a vampire, and all vampires were gross.

But this wasn’t Spike, was it? This was William, who was human, and was also very hot. Ho-boy. “I see you’ve, um, changed.”

William looked down at himself. “Ah, yes. Giles took me to a clothing shop so that I may ‘fit in’, as it were, after my mishap with the drying machine.”

“Drying machine?”

“His clothing shrunk,” Giles explained, selecting a donut from the box. “I also determined a visit to the barber was in order, since it appears that Mr. Pratt’s stay is indefinite.”

“Did you think he was going to poof?” Xander said. He watched as William quizzically eyed the donuts before selecting a chocolate iced one with sprinkles.

“The possibility had crossed my mind,” Giles said. “But this Hortence’s actions seem permanent.”

William took a tentative bite of the donut. His expression became one of delight. “This is delicious. What is it called? I am unfamiliar with this shape of pastry.”

“It’s a donut. Specifically, a cake donut. There are also yeast donuts. Some are filled, some are iced, all are yumilicious.” Xander snagged a glazed cinnamon twist and bit into it. Sticky, sugary heaven. “What’cha two been up to this week? Besides making William damn ho- presentable.” Xander caught himself, barely, from commenting on William’s hotness.

“We have been to the library numerous times,” William said. “I am adequately versed in historical and industrial changes that have occurred since 1874.”

Xander waited for more, but William took another bite of his donut. “That’s it?”

“I have perused a handful of books relating to the Hellmouth and its related creatures, as well. It is both fascinating and horrifying,” William said after he’d swallowed and a sip of tea. “In addition, I have been leant several selections of post-19th century poetry, from the library. Robert Frost is exceptionally brilliant.”

Xander glanced at Giles, who was eating his crueler with contentment. “He’s been here a week, and all you’ve done is taken him to the library and get him some clothes and a haircut?”

“Where did you expect me to take him?” Giles said.

“I don’t know. Anywhere. Around.” Xander made a circling motion with his hand. “Somewhere without books.”

“He seemed content with reading.”

“Well, I won’t stand for this educational nonsense. After I finish half a dozen donuts, I’ll take William with me apartment hunting.” Xander looked at William again, who was licking icing from his thumb. My, what a pink tongue you have... Bad Xander! He shoved down the hornies. “How ‘bout it? Care to venture into the great outdoors?”

“All right,” William agreed. “As long as we are back before dark.”

Xander had circled all the listings that were more than a “Room for Rent” in Giles’s newspaper while scarfing donuts, and now he and William were on the road in Xander’s used clunker. He’d bought the four door, beige Volvo in Oxnard after he’d scraped together enough money working at the Ladies Night strip club. The wired-on muffler hit the ground with every bump, hence the noise. William watched out the side window with avid curiosity. He must’ve gotten used to traveling in the car with all the oh-so-exciting trips to the library. “How many times did you go to the library?”

“Six,” William replied, adjusting his glasses. Despite claiming they were for reading, he never took them off. Although, they were half-spectacles and he tended to look over the top of them. “Twice on Thursday, as Giles had left his brolly.”

Xander chuckled. “You really like the library, huh?”

“Oh, yes. Or rather, I have an affinity for reading. I am studying English Literature, with an emphasis on poetry, at University.”

“You’re in college?” Xander cut a glance at him.

“Yes. University College, London,” William replied.

“Huh. Aren’t you too old?”

William’s brow furrowed. “I am twenty-one, and it is my final year of study. That is the age of a majority of students.”

“For some reason, I thought you were older,” Xander said. “Or maybe, it’s because you were Spike and Spike was in his hundreds.”

“Hundreds?”

“Yeah. Weren’t you listening last week? You were a vampire before you were, well, you,” Xander said. “The original you got vamped in 1880.”

“Oh, dear.” William sounded perturbed. “I do not like the sound of that.”

“I guess you got lucky, even if you’re a copy and stuck in 1999. Soon to be the year 2000 in a few weeks.”

“I suppose.”

Xander made a left on Partridge, where the first apartment complex on his list was located. “You know, Buffy and Willow are in college. I think Willow’s majoring in computers and Buffy is doing liberal arts.”

“And you?”

“Me? Hah. I’m not in college. Why torture myself with four more years of school, when I can get out into the real world and make money?” Xander said. Not that he got high enough scores to get into college, what with all the time he spent saving the world over studying. But he wasn’t bitter. Or jealous. Oh, no. “We’re here.”

Xander parked in the lot outside the office with the flags out front that yelled “RENT ME” in bright yellow block font. The apartment complex was the cheapest on Xander’s list, and it looked it. Chipped and peeling paint, broken glass on the doors, bars on the windows – even the ones on the second floor. And was that a severed limb under that decrepit bush?

“Lovely,” William said dryly.

“I think Jack the Ripper lives here.” Xander squinted when he thought he saw hundreds of tiny hands pressing against a second floor window.

“A mate of yours lives here?”

“No, Jack- never mind. Apparently after your time. And you must not’ve read about notorious serial killers in your numerous trips to the library. Can’t imagine why not.” Xander put the car back into gear. “I think this place is of the no. Go ahead and cross it off.”

William clicked the pen that Giles had given them and X’d off the listing in the newspaper. “The one with ‘#2’ printed beside it is on Greenley Street.” He clicked the pen again. Then again. And once more.

Xander grinned. “Like the pen, huh?”

William held up the pen. “Yes. I do not have to fill it, nor does the ink splotch when in use. I do not need to wait for the ink to dry. The retracting mechanism is a self-contained cover for the tip. A most delightful invention.”

“Let me guess – invented after 1874.”

“Indeed. Biros did not come about until the 1940s.” William shot Xander a brief smile. “This information I did read about in my numerous trips to the library.”

Xander turned on Fairchild, drove past one of the many cemeteries in Sunnydale, and made a right on Greenley Street. The apartment complex looked like an old hospital. The haunted kind that housed the criminally insane. It was a single brick building with three floors, bars once again on the windows, and an air of desperation. Naturally, it butted against the cemetery.

William clicked the pen. “Shall I cross this one off?”

“Big time.” Xander shuddered and drove on.

The third apartment complex, on Henworth, looked like classic California, circa the 1950s. Fading stucco pink walls and white wrought iron that had seen better days. Two floors with inner balconies or patios facing a central courtyard pool. Rock and palm tree landscaping. Only eighteen apartments. It was called the Dusty Rose.

“Looks all right,” Xander ventured. “No bars.”

“It does appear less funerary than the prior two,” William agreed.

“‘Funerary?’” Xander laughed. “You sound so much like Giles. If Spike were still around, I’d rub it in his face.”

William bristled. “Funerary is a perfectly descriptive word.”

“Sorry,” Xander said. “I’m just not used to you speaking like you.”

“How else would I speak?”

Xander shrugged as he parked. “Spike had more of a colorful vocab. A lot of ‘bollocks’ and ‘nancy boys’ and ‘bloody’ this or that.”

William’s lips pursed in distaste. “This Spike sounds less and less pleasant the more I hear about him.”

“He was pleasantlessest,” Xander said, opening his car door. “C’mon. Let’s go see an apartment.”

The managers office was decorated in 50s kitsch and smelled musty. But it was clean, and the manager was friendly. He was as tall as he was round, and had a lot of teeth. He also wore a shirt with pineapples wearing sunglasses. A man after Xander’s heart.

“Names Bob. Short for Bob,” Bob said, as he shook Xander’s hand. “My parents figured people were going to shorten Robert to Bob anyway, so they didn’t bother.”

“Xander. Short for Alexander. No idea why.” Xander smiled with good-humor at Bob. He motioned at William. “This is William. Not short for anything, I don’t think.”

William inclined his head. “Hello.”

“Today’s newspaper said you had an apartment for rent?” Xander said.

Bob nodded vigorously. “We do at that! One bedroom, first floor, back corner. Great view of the pool in front and the alley out back. Our units go fast, and you’re lucky one is open.” He removed a large key ring from his desk and gestured for Xander and William to follow. “What do you two fellows do for a living?”

“I’m in construction,” Xander said. They entered the central courtyard and skirted the pool. The water looked surprisingly clean, and if it wasn’t December, pretty inviting. The plastic lounge chairs surrounding the pool had seen better days.

“I am in University,” William said.

Potted plants and a few kids bikes sat in front of other apartments on the main floor and were partially visible on the upper floor walkway. The staircase up to the second story stood across from the office at the front of the nearly square complex. Xander didn’t see any garbage or cigarette butts littering the inner grounds.

Bob slotted the key into apartment four’s door and turned the lock. “Construction work, huh? Full-time?”

“Yeah. Plus overtime,” Xander said. “Amazing what metal-halide work lights can do when it gets dark early in the winter.”

“Enough to pay the rent, then.” Bob nodded with satisfaction. He opened the door and motioned for them enter. “Go on in. Have a look.”

The apartment itself ran shotgun-style, front to back. The galley kitchen was to the immediate right of the door, with a window above the sink, looking out into the courtyard. Bar counter seating divided the kitchen from the living space. A wall with two doors ended the small room, with one door leading to a bedroom and the other leading to a small, full bath. White walls, linoleum floors. Not a huge amount of space, but bigger certainly bigger than the Harris basement. And more importantly, sans parents.

“This is pretty nice,” Xander said. “I’m surprised whoever was here left.”

“The former tenant disappeared one day and didn’t return,” Bob said, with a shrug. “Happens around here, sometimes.”

“I’m well aware,” Xander said. He liked the look of the place, and the rent was at mid-range for him, but still reasonable. “I’d like to rent it, if I can.”

“Sure! We’ll head back to the office and fill out the paperwork,” Bob said. “I’ll have to do an eviction check, verify your employment, and get a deposit of first month’s rent and a month’s security. No background checks here, but you two look too clean cut to have a record, anyway.”

Xander had worn what his grandmother used to call his Sunday Best, sans tie, instead of his usual laid back, loud print clothes. He’d read an article in GQ that said to dress professionally whenever you wanted something, as it boosted confidence in both yourself and others, which in turn usually got you that thing.

They followed Bob back to the office, where they took chairs opposite him at the desk. Bob passed Xander a clipboard of papers with a pen attached on a string. “Rent is due on the first of every month. A $25.00 late fee is assessed after five days, $100 after ten. Pet deposit is $300. No loud noise after 10 p.m. during the week, midnight on Fridays and Saturdays. Pool’s heated and open 24/7, but there’s no lifeguard so try not to drown. It gets cleaned daily by my nephew, who owns a service. Good kid. Gives a discount.”

Xander nodded along as he filed out the paperwork. Name, current address, place of employment, had he ever been evicted? Did he understand that if he failed to pay rent, he would be evicted? Xander didn’t appear to need a co-signer, as long as he was over eighteen. He’d be nineteen next month.

“Number of occupants is maxed at six by fire code,” Bob went on. “You’ll get two keys, but after that, you need to come to the office to obtain more. Primary renter is responsible for all occupants’ damage and occupants do not have a right to remain in the apartment if you leave, unless you come to the office and fill out paperwork making them legal tenants. We’re a little loose on who lives here, because everyone needs a home but not everyone has papers, if you know what I mean.”

Xander nodded. He figured Bob meant illegal immigrants, but this was Sunnydale, so he could mean demons or vampires, too. Though it was hard to imagine vampires paying rent.

“As long as we got one legal tenant, we’re good,” Bob said, as Xander handed him back the clipboard. “I won’t be able to do the checks until Monday. Come back anytime after noon, and bring cash, check or money order for the deposit. I live behind the office here, so you can come as late as nine.”

“Will do.” Xander stood when Bob did, and shook the man’s hand. “See you then. And thank you.”

“You two look like a great couple. The Desert Rose is glad to have you.”

Xander sputtered, and William appeared confused, as Bob politely ushered them out of the office. The glass door closed behind them.

“Why would he say we were a couple?” William asked.

Because Xander had brought another man around his age, who was wearing a flamingo pink shirt, with him to apartment hunt. “It was a compliment,” he told William, and it was, even if it wasn’t accurate. Most people still freaked over gay people, even in California. “Does it bother you?”

“It is not the truth.” William glanced back toward the office as they headed for the car.

“Yeah, but does it bother you that he thought you were gay?”

“Why would whether I was happy or not bother me?”

Xander sighed. “And 1874 strikes again.”

“Pardon?”

“Gay means homosexual now,” Xander explained, stopping on the driver’s side of the car. He looked at William over the roof. “Meaning guys loving other guys, and girls loving other girls.”

William got a clue. “Ah. I see.”

“So? Does it bother you?” Xander really wanted to know the answer. Partly to let his dick know whether to shut up or not, and partly because he didn’t want to hang out with someone anti-gay.

A red blush bloomed on William’s cheeks. He flustered. “It is not proper to speak of such things.”

“Are you 21 or 50?”

“Pardon?”

Xander made a derisive sound. “Never mind. Let’s go.”

He got into the car, slamming the door shut with more force than was probably good for the clunker. William followed, and sat stiffly in his seat, the blush still coloring his cheeks. The ride was uncomfortable. Xander had planned to go out to celebrate, but now he only wanted to dump William back on Giles and go home.

“A-Are you, uh, cross with me?” William ventured after several miles of tense silence.

“No, what gave you that idea?” Xander’s reply dripped with sarcasm, and did not get lost in time travel translation.

William wrung his hands in his lap, staring down at them. “What did- did you wish to know again?”

Xander kept his temper, trying to remember that A) he wasn’t out and B) William was from 1874. “Do you think homosexuality is an abomination and anyone who is gay, or bi, or questioning, should be wiped off the face of the earth?”

“Um… no?”

“Is that a question or an answer?” Xander snapped. So much for keeping his cool.

William cringed. “What w-would you wish me to say? I’m not- I don’t- we do not speak about such things in my- my time.”

Xander’s sarcasm returned. “Really? You don’t talk about girls with your friends?”

William’s face turned vibrant red, and he responded, aghast, “Mother would never approve.”

The way he said it, with such prudishness, caused Xander to burst out laughing. His anger fled him with the release.

“You need not be cruel,” William sulked.

“Sorry,” Xander chuckled. “It’s just… you’re so old-fashioned. I mean, I don’t sit around and talk about sex, but I’ve been in on many locker room boob conversations.”

“Lock- locker room?”

“Where you change your clothes for gym”

“Ah.” William fidgeted. “Mother did not permit me to participate in sport.”

Xander heard a sad note in William’s tone, and he glanced at his passenger. “Sounds like you miss her.”

William nodded. “I do. Verily.”

“You guys were close?”

“Oh, yes. I adore mother. And she takes wonderful care of me,” William said.

“Must be nice,” Xander said, a bit wistful. He didn’t return to the other topic. As long as William didn’t start acting like a gay-basher, Xander would let it go. “Wanna grab a coffee, or tea in your case, at the Espresso Pump?”

“I would, thank you.”

Xander changed course, aiming the car in the direction of downtown Sunnydale.

The Espresso Pump looked like any other fast food type of place, with blue counters, a menu board overhead, and employees dressed in terrible polyester uniforms. Round tables with two to four chairs were scattered around the coffee shop, both inside and outside on the patio. Blue and white Christmas snowflake lights adorned the front window. They managed to snag a window seat inside the crowded shop, so William could still watch outside. Xander had a mocha; William, a hot tea. Xander badgered William into sharing about growing up in the mid-1800s. It didn’t sound much different than growing up in the late 1900s, other than lacking modern inventions and having a dress code.

William really lit up when Xander asked him more about college. He raved on about his professors’ brilliance and the intensity of study. Literature was brushed upon as a bridge to poetry. And poetry was life to William. Stanza, metaphor, canto, pentameter – words that went in Xander’s one ear and out the other. Likely he’d learned about them back in school, but he was too busy watching William to dig that deep into his memories.

William was flushed, and animated, and happy. Broad smile and bright eyes. Eloquent. Vivacious. Other big words that Xander would remember later. In the few interactions he’d had with Spike, Spike had been blunt and crude. Even bespelled in-love-with-Buffy Spike hadn’t gone beyond second grade Valentine’s card level. William was dropping Byron and Shelley with ease.

“O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being,
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing...”

It was great. Xander didn’t understand it, but it was great all the same. William, Xander was learning, was pretty great, too, in a stuffed up Giles sort of way. Proper, educated, very uncool, but the forgivable kind. The kind that Xander liked. Nerdishly sexy.

As Xander continued to listen, he realized he could get crush of epic proportions on William if he wasn’t careful. William probably didn’t like guys, and might end up being a homophobe. And Xander was still getting over Anya. Still, the longer they sat at the Espresso Pump, the more Xander liked William. So it would be wise of him to steer clear of William for a while, after today.

“You want me to what?”

“Take William in,” Giles repeated, sounding slightly exasperated. “I have a guest coming for several days, beginning Friday evening.”

“That’s what I thought you said.” Xander couldn’t believe it. Or really, he could, considering his usual luck.

They’d returned to Giles’ after a long stop at Wilson’s Candies, a fill-your-own bag type of candy store that had William gobsmacked, to use his own word. Xander had gotten a mixed bag of jelly beans, and William was working on a one-of-everything-that-fit-in-a-certain-price bag. He’d examine each piece of candy intensively before eating it. It both amused Xander and turned him on. He’d been grateful to arrive at Giles’ and leave his potential crush behind.

But apparently, that wasn’t going to happen. “Um, sure, I guess. But I don’t have an extra bed. Or any beds. Or furniture. That’s if I get the apartment on Monday.” He had no clue what, if anything, his parents would let him take. When he’d left last summer, the first thing they’d done was sold everything from his bedroom.

Giles smiled paternally. “I am certain that you shall. And I am willing to, uh, contribute toward making your new home habitable.”

“On the condition that I take William with me.” Xander pointed at Giles. “I’m wise to you, old man.”

“It is merely for a few days. A week, at best,” Giles said.

“Okay. I’ll call and let you know when I know if I get the apartment. Otherwise, William’ll be sleeping in the basement chair.” Xander looked over at William, who was contentedly nibbling on a praline. “I’ll see you later this week, William, one way or another.”

“Good day to you, Xander.” William lifted the bag of remaining candies. “Thank you for the sweets.”

“My torture- er, pleasure.” Xander waggled his fingers at the two men and departed. Once outside, with the door firmly shut behind him, he dropped his head in a hand and groaned to himself. “What have I done to deserve this?”

Xander did get the apartment, but did not get any furniture from the basement. He didn’t get a refund on rent for the remainder of the month from his parents, either. But with Giles’ contribution and Buffy having saved the Resale Shop owner’s life, Xander was able to get a handful of kitchenware, two table lamps, two twin beds, a hideously floral love seat, and two black stools for the bar counter seating. New mattresses were the most expensive part, which was where the majority of Giles’ money went. Xander knocked together a serviceable bedside table, a coffee table, and two sofa end tables with scrap lumber from the construction site.

Willow borrowed one of the two keys before he’d moved in and smudged the apartment to rid it of bad juju. Her housewarming gift was a Wiccan protection sachet to keep that booted bad juju out. Buffy gave him a succulent plant. Giles gave him William.

“No TV?” Willow asked, taking a piece of pizza from the open boxes on the bar counter. Buffy and Xander stood on one side of the counter dividing the kitchen from the living room, while she and William were on the other. She and Buffy finished their finals and had come over to help him move in on Thursday night. Giles sprang for the pizza after they were done with the minimal set up before making himself scarce. Xander gave him many effusive money-related thank yous before he’d escaped.

“Maybe when I get my Christmas bonus,” Xander said. If he got a Christmas bonus. He’d been with the construction company for less than two months. And he had a car insurance payment coming up. Plus, he did like to eat.

Willow glanced around the sparsely furnished room. Love seat, tables, table lamp, nothing else. The walls were bare. Xander didn’t even own a clock radio. “But what’ll you do when you’re not working or sleeping?”

“I’ll take a page out of William’s book, and read,” Xander punned with a grin. Willow giggled, and ate her pizza. Xander reached for a slice.

“You know how to read?” Buffy jibed with a poke to Xander’s ribs.

Xander danced out of her range. “Tickles! Yes, Xander read good. Xander read books without pictures, too.”

William motioned to the large pile of books he’d unpacked and placed on the empty end table. The other side held the cream-colored shaded lamp. “You are welcome to any of these. Though, they are due in a week.”

“Thanks. I might take you up on it,” Xander said. It wasn’t a total lie. He might try one of the poetry books, if he ran out of cereal boxes and canned food ingredient lists. Or counting the hairs on his arm.

He circled around the counter, took a seat on one of the new bar stools, and snagged that slice of pizza Buffy’s tickling finger prevented him from grabbing before. “What are you two doing for winter break?” he asked the ladies.

“I’m going to hang out with my parents, then I’m going on a sort of witchy retreat for four days,” Willow said, taking a seat on the floral couch. “A get back to nature thing, only with a fully stocked cabin and indoor plumbing.”

“I am going to patrol, patrol some more, sleep, hang out with my mom, patrol, avert an apocalypse that we know will happen, and then patrol again.” Buffy sat beside Xander on the second stool, facing the living room, and took a piece of pizza. They ate between conversation. “I’m also going down to L.A. to see my dad on Christmas.”

“Think you’ll see Angel while you’re there?” Willow asked.

Buffy nodded. “I was talking to Cordelia, and they lost a good friend a few weeks ago. I want to see how they’re holding up.”

“You spoke to Cordelia?” Xander was surprised. The two of them weren’t exactly the best of buds. Or buds at all. More like mutual disdain with a side of slayage.

“Yeah. She called to ask me how to get the smell of demon out of her shoes. We got to talking, and she told me what happened.”

Xander tilted his head, questioningly. “And how does one get the smell of demon out of their shoes?”

“Kitty litter,” Buffy replied. “Put a handful in some pantyhose, drop it in your shoe, and wait a few days.”

“No wonder our closet at school smelled like kitty litter. I thought maybe we’d gotten an invisible cat,” Willow said.

“Is, uh, demon smell a- a large issue?” William asked with trepidation.

“Some nights,” Buffy said with a put-upon sigh. “Usually when I look cute, or am wearing something new.”

Willow clucked her tongue. “I keep telling you to change before you patrol.”

“I know. But I keep hoping I’ll meet a good looking guy who isn’t trying to kill me.”

“You mean, someone like Riley,” Willow teased. Xander oohed.

“Maaaaybe,” Buffy drew the word out. “But sometimes I get the feeling he’s hiding something from me, and I’m definitely hiding something from him, and it’s… complicated.”

“Such is the way of love,” Xander exaggerated, with a hand to his heart. Buffy gave him a light shove.

“Hey, it’s not like your dating life has been chill,” Buffy said. “Your last girlfriend gave you human Spike as a parting gift. Not exactly the norm.”

Xander pointed at Buffy with the tip of a new slice of pizza. “First, it was Hortence, not Anya, who did that,” he said. “Second, this version is an upgrade to the one I’d been stuck with, which is a win all around.”

William paused in his book re-arranging to give Xander a wry look. “Thank you… I think.”

“You are quite welcome. And I mean it,” Xander said. “If I’m going to sleep with a guy, I’d rather it be human you.” Xander realized what he’d said, and was quick to add, “I mean, in the same apartment. In the same room. In separate beds.” One of these days, he really need to come out to the others. But this was not that day.

William smiled, and repeated sincerely, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Again.” Xander grinned. “Before we launch into a third round, you guys want to stick your feet into the pool? It’s heated.”

“I’m in!” Willow bounced up from the couch.

“But it is dark outside,” William said, with a worried glance at the window over the kitchen sink.

Buffy produced a stake from thin air. “Don’t worry. I got us covered.”

“C’mon, William. It’s warm out tonight, for December,” Xander said, sliding off the stool. He closed the lids on the mostly empty pizza boxes. The leftovers would make a good breakfast for tomorrow. “And with all of us together, we should be fine.”

“Very well,” William agreed reluctantly. “But if I die from one of these vampires or demons that you have said are running about Sunnydale, I shall be quite cross.”

William did not die, thankfully, and found it rather daring to bare his calves in front of the others. They, too, bared their calves, and swung their feet lazily in the warmed pool water. Even the girls. William found it scandalous. His mother would be aghast. Women in this age wore trousers, some with holes in them, and some so short their entire legs were on display. Men did, too. William had seen more skin in the past two weeks than he had in his life. It was enough to give one’s heart palpitations.

William kept his sensibilities to himself, however, as he did not wish to be taunted. Even in his own time, he was mocked by his peers for how he comported himself. He’d been called a dandy, a fop, a coxcomb, a milksop, effete, wet, and soft. He preferred poetry to sport, his mother’s company over others, and liked things neat and clean. He knew how to sew and cook. He preferred to sit with his mother by the fire and read than go out for a pint. None of these things made him popular.

Xander sat beside him at the pool’s edge, gesturing animatedly with his hands as he told a story regarding his workplace. Occasionally, his bare foot would bump against William’s. He looked between William and the girls on his other side as he spoke. It made William feel included. Though he’d had much to read up on these past two weeks to acclimate himself to 1999 and was therefore busy, he had been mostly left to himself. Giles had had other things to attend to beside his house guest. William’s foray into town with Xander the prior Saturday had been a highlight in an otherwise lonely week.

And now he would be residing with Xander, albeit temporarily, as far as he knew. Sharing a room would be a novelty, one he was not certain he would enjoy. What if he made a fool of himself by snoring? Or if he spoke in his sleep?

“Company,” Buffy sang softly, drawing their attention. A tall, skinny man in a dirty track suit walked into the well-lit courtyard. William sucked in a sharp breath of fear when he saw the man’s face, ridged and ugly, with yellow eyes and visible fangs. William had seen drawings of vampires in Giles’s books, but seeing one in person was all the more terrifying. William’s head started spinning, and his heart leapt into his throat.

Xander and Willow did not appear afraid. Xander gave William’s hand a slight pat, as Buffy hopped to her feet. “Don’t worry. Buffster’s got this.”

The vampire seemed pleased that Buffy was walking right toward him. He reached out to grab her, but she ducked under his arms and slipped around his back with obviously practiced ease. His look of surprise vanished in a sudden cloud of dust.

Buffy waved her hand in front of her face, and wrinkled her nose. “Ew, freshly risen corpse smell.”

“But we’re not that close to a cemetery,” Xander said with a frown.

“Maybe he was buried in someone’s backyard,” Willow suggested. “A murder victim.”

“Before or after he got vamped?”

Willow shrugged, and got to her feet. “It would have to be after, wouldn’t it?”

“Well, he’s dead again, so it doesn’t matter,” Buffy said. She looked at the entryway between both sides of the building. “You know, if there was a locked gate here, the courtyard would be private and vamps couldn’t enter it.”

“I’ll suggest it to Manager Bob,” Xander said. “He seemed like a guy who doesn’t completely ignore what happens in this ‘burb.”

The three seemed completely blasé about the vampire who had been menacing them the moment before, while William was lucky he didn’t fall into the pool by fainting. “Does- does this, uh, happen often?”

“People ignoring the things that go Grr in the night?” Xander nodded. “All the time. It’s either a spell, an effect the Hellmouth causes, or something in the water. We haven’t figured it out yet.”

“Oh, dear.” It was not what William had meant, but the answer was all the more frightening. He immediately pulled his feet from the pool.

Xander chuckled. “I was kidding about the water thing. Maybe. Anyway, you’re part of the Scoobs now, so you don’t have to worry about ignoring or forgetting, even if you really want to play ostrich.”

William latched onto the unfamiliar word, to keep his sanity in check. “‘Scoobs?’”

“The Scooby Gang. It’s from an old cartoon,” Xander explained, as he stood. He offered a hand up to William. “A group of four teenagers and their dog solved monster mysteries.”

William nodded, as if he understood. He accepted the help to his feet. “I see. I did not know any of you had a dog.”

“Cordelia,” Buffy said, at the same time Willow said, “Anya.” They looked at each other and burst into giggles.

“Hey, now! Those were my girlfriends.” Xander pointed a finger at Willow. “Besides, you’re the one who had the boyfriend who was a werewolf.”

“Werewolf?” William said faintly. His head spun again. He missed his mother.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” Willow put up her palms in surrender. “No more dissing your ex-girlfriends.”

Buffy pushed down her trouser legs and slipped on her shoes. “We should get going. Mom’s gotta leave early tomorrow and she wants to pack the trunk tonight.”

“Thanks for the help, guys,” Xander said, as Willow donned her shoes. “I should have the phone hooked up before Christmas, in case duty needs to call.”

The girls left with goodbyes, and Xander collected his and William’s socks and shoes. He half-led, half-guided William into the apartment. “You look pale again. You’re not going to faint, are you?”

“Perhaps,” William admitted wryly. “I confess, I did not truly believe what I had been told about this town until that vampire appeared.”

“Now you know for sure.” Xander dropped the shoes and socks by the door, and began cleaning up the pizza boxes and drink cans. “Vampires are the most common thing in town. Staying in at night and never inviting anyone inside is the best way to avoid them.”

“And Willow had a- a- a werewolf for a beau?”

“Yeah, Oz. Got bit our junior year. Locks himself up the three days of the full moon,” Xander said. “He left Sunnydale at the beginning of November.”

“And you were with a vengeance demon?”

“Ex-vengeance demon, but yep. And Buffy dated a vampire.”

“Oh my.” William tried to wrap his mind around the information. “I thought they were to be avoided.”

“Would’ve saved a world of hurt if she had,” Xander said enigmatically.

William shook his head in dismay, sinking onto the bar stool. “And here I believed that romance with a woman would be terrifying.”

Xander studied him across the counter divide. “You’re into women, then?”

William ascertained what Xander meant. It was not something he spoke about aloud, unlike the boors at University. He had no preference, himself. His mother had indicated at some point she would introduce him to the appropriate woman. Still, Xander was inquiring, and not in a cruel or jesting manner, and it would be rude not to respond. “I… I do not find them objectionable.”

An expression of resignation flashed across Xander’s face before smiled. “Gotta admit, they do smell good.”

“I, uh, do not make it a habit of sniffing them.”

Xander chuckled. “Probably a good idea.” He finished tidying up and glanced at his wristwatch. “I’m gonna hit the shower, then head to bed.”

“Very well,” William said, and watched Xander withdraw into the bathroom. He heard the shower turn on a few moments later; a marvelous invention, along with near-instantly heated water.

Relocating to the sofa, William pondered the courting habits of his companions. A werewolf, a vampire, and a vengeance demon. He himself did not have experience in the area, but he did not believe he would be attracted to the supernatural. Although, technically, he would qualify as the supernatural entity, as he was a form of dopplegänger. Would that draw the enticement of others, or did that make him more unattractive?

Though his mother disagreed, William knew he was not the most pleasing specimen of male. He was neither strapping, nor athletic. He preferred discourse of poetry over business. He was reticent to engage with others at soirées, and despite lessons he danced terribly. His father decried that William would never amount to manhood, though that failing he blamed on mother.

William pushed away his self-debasing thoughts. It did him no good, and it made him miss his mother’s reassuring words. He also had enough to contend with, being in the near twenty-first century, rather than dwell on courting.

Resolved, he picked up one of the library books from the end table and absorbed himself in the comforting world of poetry. He heard the bathroom door open a time later, and glanced up from his reading. Xander emerged, clothes in hand, damp hair sticking up every which way, wearing only a towel low around his waist.

William felt heat travel from his toes to his hairline. He lifted the book to hide his surely reddened face. What indecency! His resolve started to crumble with the stirring in his loins.

“There’s still hot water, in case you want to shower,” Xander told him, before disappearing into the bedroom.

William took up the offer, and fled to the bathroom. Only his shower was purposefully cold.

Living with William was both great and seven levels of hell torture. Great, because Xander now knew what Dante’s seven levels of hell were, in detail. Torture, because William wore long-sleeved flannel pajamas from neck to ankle that made Xander want to unwrap and devour him.

Xander kept telling himself it was only going to be a week, maybe a little more, before William would go back to Giles’s. But who was he kidding? Giles had bought William a bed. Why would William go back to sleeping on Giles’s couch? No, wily ol’ Giles had unloaded his unexpected roommate permanently on Xander, and Xander was permanently walking around with a hard on.

Eventually, Xander knew it would go away. He’d had the lusties for friends before, and it faded with time and neglect of action. William was still shiny and new, but he liked the ladies and so Xander suffered silently and bought extra hand lotion.

William sat beside him on the second stool at the bar counter, punctuating his sentences with his spoon. He had taken it upon himself to cook dinner for them both every night. “It’s the least I can do, for allowing me to stay here,” he’d said.

Tonight’s budget-friendly meal was SpaghettiO’s with meatballs, canned French cut green beans, and homemade bread. Canned food was less expensive than fresh meat and veggies, but William could do wonders with staples like flour, sugar, butter, and eggs. He’d baked the bread that morning, and it was flakey, soft, and oh-so-delicious.

“Gulliver’s Travels, which was originally titled Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World, is a satire. Swift wrote it to mock English customs and politics of the early 1700s,” William was telling Xander. “It was written in the parody style of travel guides of the time. A seminal work that led to the novel form of storytelling.”

Xander grinned. It was fun listening to William dovetail into literature at any opportunity, even though Xander had asked a different question. “Should I take that as a yes or no that you’re going to write a time travel guide?”

“Um… no.” William flustered. “My apologies for the tangent.”

“No, no! I like your tangents,” Xander quickly assured. “I like all your tangents. And sines. And cosines.” Especially dressed in that shade of blue that matched William’s eyes. “I learn more from you than I ever did in school.”

“Yes, well.” William cleared his throat. “I tend to get carried away, and most are quickly bored of me.”

“I’m not most.” Xander tore off another piece of bread in order to dunk it in his SpaghettiO’s. “In fact, I’m so not most that most avoid me.”

“I find that difficult to believe. I have met your friends.”

“Friends I haven’t seen much of since they started college, unless there’s a crises.” Xander winced at the bitterness in his tone. He covered it up with over-the-top peppy. “Though I did have a girlfriend for a while.”

“Anya, correct? The, uh, vengeance demon?” William nudged green beans onto his spoon with his butter knife. “Do you always court demons?”

“No… not really.” Xander thought back to all the women he’d dated or tried to date. “About fifty-fifty. I like my women strong and my men nerdy.” Xander shoveled a big spoonful of SpaghettiO’s into his mouth when he heard what he’d said. Maybe William wouldn’t pick up on Xander outing himself. “Wha’ bou’ ‘ou?”

“I have never courted a demon!” William sounded so affronted that Xander nearly spat out his SpaghettiO’s from laughing.

“That’s not what I meant,” Xander cleared up after swallowing, laughter still in his tone. “I meant what kind of women do you like?”

“Oh.” Now William appeared embarrassed, which made him all the more endearing. He shifted on his stool. “I- I do not know.”

“Really?” Xander found that hard to believe. “You’re twenty-one.”

William studiously pushed around the green beans on his plate. “I have been busy with my studies, and mother does not wish me to gad about the city.”

“Still, you have to have some idea. Redheads? Blondes? Skinny? Busty?” Xander pressed. He was super curious now.

William hemmed and hawed, but finally answered. “I would like someone who was interested in what I have to say.” He flicked a glance at Xander. “And possibly with brown hair.”

Xander nudged him in the arm with an elbow. “See, that wasn’t too hard. Brown hair, good ears. Probably loads of girls like that around here.”

“Hm.” William ate several spoonfuls of food and bites of bread before eventually adding, “Preferably not a demon, though.”

Xander laughed.

William was dreadfully bored. Xander was working late again, and William had finished the last of his library books that morning. He’d given the apartment a thorough cleaning and had baked several batches of cookies for tomorrow. He’d sat by the pool in the sun for a short while, chatting with one of their upstairs neighbors who had a small child, though the temperature had changed and it had gotten nippy outside. Now, he was composing his own poetry in the notebook Giles had given him.

The spider,
he creates a web
He has eight eyes
inside his head

William did not know how many eyes spiders had, nor did he actually wish to find out. The spider had appeared shortly after William had returned indoors, standing on ceremony in the middle of the kitchen floor. William could see him from his perch behind the safety of the dividing counter. Nasty things, spiders. He shuddered with revulsion and hoped Xander would be home soon to take care of it.

Its mere presence
caused a shudder
Spiders,
nasty buggers

A knock sounded on the apartment door. William looked at the wristwatch Xander had given him. A Spider-Man watch, appropriately enough. It was half seven. He wondered who would be calling at this hour. Perhaps Xander had forgotten his key.

William rose, went to and opened the door. Standing on the doorstep, bathed in moonlight, was a woman a few inches shorter than him, with luminous brown eyes and pale skin. Lovely brunette hair tumbled to her shoulders. She wore a diaphanous gown of white, with a blood red stole around her shoulders. She gasped when she saw him.

“The stars spoke the truth,” she said, clutching her hand to her chest. “You are glowing and glistening once more.”

“Have we met?” William asked, though he was fairly certain they had not.

She held out her hands to him, imploringly. “We do. We did. We will again, my love. Come with me.”

William felt drawn to her, as if he were being hypnotized. He nearly took a step outside, but stopped himself when the moon disappeared behind a cloud, causing the courtyard to further darken. It broke the spell. “No, I do not believe I will.”

The woman came closer to the door, causing William to take a step back, but she did not enter. Her voice dropped and she batted her lashes coquettishly. “Then invite me in, William, and we shall have such fun together.”

William’s brow furrowed. “You know my name.”

Her laugh was a light titter, like a bird song. “Silly William. Of course I know your name. And you know mine. We have caused the world to tremble and the streets to bleed. We are darkness wrapped in love’s grace.”

William wet his lips. She had a poet’s tongue, and an ethereal beauty. Sonnets about her composed themselves in William’s mind. She could be his muse. He felt a longing deep inside him, wisps of another life swirling to the surface. He need only to invite her in…

“Get away from him!” Xander’s shout echoed in the courtyard, yanking William from fantasy back into reality. William recoiled in fear. The woman’s beautiful visage twisted into the ugliness of a vampire with a snarl, and she spun around.

Xander grabbed a lounge chair, using it as a lengthy shield. “Get lost, Drusilla. He’s not Spike anymore.”

Drusilla poised like a cobra, swaying, ready to strike. “You want him,” she sneered. “I can feel your yearning in sticky waves. You cannot have him!”

Drusilla sprang, and Xander swung the lounge chair, hitting her with a solid whack. She stumbled to the side, teetered, and splashed with a cry of surprise into the pool. She sunk to the bottom.

William crept outside and stopped beside Xander. He glanced into the pool. Drusilla sat on the bottom, arms folded, glowering up at them in her human face. Her dark hair floated in undulous waves around her. “Is she going to remain there?”

Xander dropped the lounge chair and hustled William back inside. “Don’t know, don’t care, don’t go outside at night!”

Xander slammed and locked the front door, then nabbed a stool and wedge it under the knob. He grabbed William by the shoulders and searched him over. “Did she hurt you? Did she bite you?”

“No, she did not touch me.” William looked at the closed door. “Who was she?”

“Drusilla, your ex. Well, Spike’s ex.” Xander seemed reassured that William had no holes in his neck, and he made for the newly installed telephone sitting beside the table lamp in the living room. “She’s dangerous. Keep far away from her.”

“I felt compelled by her,” William admitted. “Drawn to her.”

“You were Spike, and they were together for, like, ever. You- I mean, he loved her a lot.” Xander dialed a number and put the receiver to his ear. He spoke after a moment. “Hey, Drusilla’s here... Yes, that Drusilla. She’s in the pool…”

As Xander’s one-sided conversation continued, William went into the kitchen to look out the window above the sink. The spider on the floor scurried to a corner. Outside, a very large reindeer, wearing clothing and walking upright, had entered the courtyard. Blinking Christmas lights decorated its enormous rack of antlers. They blinked in time with the lights on a hideous holiday vest, sporting a reindeer defecating into a glittering stocking. William had read Moore’s poem on many a Christmas eve, but he had not pictured the “tiny reindeer” walking around on two feet, let alone donned in unfashionable attire.

“Buff’s coming over to deal with Drusilla,” Xander said, hanging up the phone.

“I do not know if that will be necessary.”

“What do you mean?” Xander joined him in the kitchen and peered out the window. “What in Merry Christmas Hell is that thing?”

“It appears to be a reindeer of sorts.”

“Santa’s been hitting the eggnog way too hard if that is one of his reindeer.”

They watched as the festive reindeer entered the pool. His lights kept blinking as he waded to the deeper end. He ducked underwater and re-emerged carrying Drusilla in his arms. He carried her out of the pool and, together, they left the courtyard, a trail of puddles in their wake.

“You sure you’re okay?” Xander asked, as they continued watching out the window for the couple’s return.

“Dismayed, but otherwise unharmed,” William replied. It was if he had known Drusilla in a dream, one he preferred not to have again considering she was a vampire. “I do hope she does not return.”

“Me, too.” Xander gestured with his chin at the window. “There’s Buffy.” He pushed away from the sink, unblocked, and opened the door. “Hey, Buff,” he called. “She’s gone. Some crazy looking reindeer took her away.”

Buffy glanced in the pool as she crossed the courtyard, and joined Xander in the doorway. “Reindeer? Like ho-ho-ho, red-nosed Rudolph?”

“Kinda. But walks on two legs, has a human-ish face, and dresses like Christmas threw up on him. Or her. Do reindeer have boobs?”

“I… don’t want to know the answer to that,” Buffy said. She scratched her cheek with a stake. “I’ll patrol around the area, maybe visit Willy, see if he’s heard where she’s staying. With luck, she’s left town.”

Xander snorted. “That’d be too easy.”

“I’ll tell Giles about the reindeer, too, but he’ll probably want to talk to you guys about it tomorrow.” Buffy waved at William. “Hi, William. Bye, William.”

“Uh, hello and goodbye to you, as well,” William said.

Buffy left, and Xander locked and blocked the door again. William looked questioningly at the wedged stool. “Can’t be too careful, with Miss Loony Toons running around,” Xander said.

“She is that dangerous?”

Xander nodded. “Old, powerful, crazy. I’d prefer she not get her teeth into you. Again. I like this version of you.”

“As I do not recall any other version, I cannot compare,” William said. “Though I will say that I prefer to remain as I am, even though everything I knew and loved is gone for good. Or perhaps I never had it to begin with, since I am a dopplegänger.”

Xander moved into the kitchen again, opened the refrigerator, and rooted around. “Does it bother you? The whole copy thing?” He emerged with a Yoo-hoo and a leftover slice of pizza.

William didn’t answer immediately. He’d been giving it a lot of thought, in the quiet hours of the day while Xander was working, or at night lying abed, missing his mother terribly. Logic would dictate that, since he was not the original William, his mother wasn’t truly his mother. Emotionally, he felt adrift, distraught, and homesick. Reconciling his feelings with his reality had been difficult.

“No,” William finally replied. “My memories define me, not the body – nor time – in which I reside. I am as much a William Pratt as William Pratt is William Pratt.”

Xander grinned. “William Pratt is William Pratt is William Pratt.”

“Precisely.” William mirrored the smile.

“Well, William Pratt,” Xander pointed at him with his half eaten slice of pizza, “I’ll say it again, don’t go out at night. Except tomorrow, when we go to Giles’s together.”

William nodded in agreement. “I do need to go to the library, if we might visit there prior to Giles’s.”

“How can you be out of books already?” Xander looked over the counter at the piles of books beside the sofa. “You have, like, a million of them.”

“I have read every day since I arrived, while you are at work.”

Xander’s expression turned downcast. “Sorry about that. I’ll see about getting a TV soon.”

“A library visit will be fine,” William told him quickly. He did not wish to be a burden, nor make Xander feel like he was not a good host. Loneliness and boredom were always cured with a good book.

“Okay. It should be open, even though it’ll be Christmas Eve. Work site’s shutting down early, so we should be good. If not, I guess you could borrow some books from Giles to hold you over ‘til Saturday.”

Giles’s books were mostly composed of things that gave William nightmares. Still, he nodded. “This is true.”

Xander finished off his piece of pizza, unscrewed the cap on his Yoo-hoo, and took a drink. “I’m gonna hit the shower. If anyone knocks, don’t answer it.”

“I won’t.” William glanced out the window above the sink. He doubted he would answer anyone’s knock again.

Xander and William arrived at Giles’s, loaded with cookies, small gifts from Xander, and a bag of library books they’d left in the back seat. Xander wore Holiday Hawaiian; William looked hot in green. Christmas lights decorated the courtyard outside Giles’s apartment, and the archway above the steps leading down to it sported a sprig of mistletoe. Xander gave the trap a dirty look and hustled down the steps.

“Ho-ho-hello,” Xander announced as he and William entered Giles’s without the formality of knocking.

“Hey, Xander,” Willow greeted, carrying a dish to the dining table. “You’re just in time. Dinner’s about to be served.”

“Someone spent too long in the library.” Xander dropped his newspaper-wrapped gifts under the decorated tree in the corner of the living room. “I had to pry William away with only two armfuls of books.”

Giles’s apartment had been decked with boughs of holly and other Christmas baubles. Garlands and bows wrapped the staircase leading up to the second floor and draped along the railing in the loft. Colorful stockings hung from the mantle with each of the Scooby Gangs’ names on them. A cherry fire glowed in the gas fireplace. Carols played on the stereo. The dining table was festooned with food and drink, awaiting the meal. Everyone was dressed in Christmas casual, in reds and greens, with Willow wearing a multi-faith sweater.

Xander was stoked about this get-together. He usually spent Christmas in the backyard of his parents’ house, avoiding his extended family’s annual drunken brawl. But he was no longer obligated to be there, and Buffy’s mom had the flu, so when Buffy suggested trying Thanksgiving again – only without Chumash curses and vampire party crashers – he’d jumped at the chance. Willow and Giles both had no plans, and Thanksgiving Part Deux became Christmas Eve dinner.

William put his three plates of cookies on the counter and unwrapped the tinfoil from them. Buffy stood in the kitchen, carving the ham with scary swiftness. “Any sightings of Drusilla?” she asked.

“Nein,” Xander said, helping Giles with the drinks. “What about you?”

“Nothing. I checked their old haunts, and Willy didn’t know she was in town.”

“Oooh, cookies,” Willow cooed. “Homemade?”

William nodded. “Yes. Your Christmas gifts from me. There are peanut butter, chocolate chip, and plain sugar cookies.”

“Yum.” Willow sneaked a chocolate chip cookie.

“You are going to spoil your dinner,” Giles chided with good humor, carrying another dish to the table. “And thank you, William.”

Buffy brought in the ham, and dinner was served. Conversation flowed easily between the friends; Willow, Buffy and William spoke about school similarities and differences, Xander spoke about work, Giles dodged questions about his guest. The meal was delicious and over-filling. They broke British crackers, which were like cardboard fortune cookies with a bang, as they scarfed down dessert.

“You’re going to have to roll me out of here,” Xander said, as they relocated to the living room. He perched on the arm of the sofa. William and Willow claimed the seats beside him, and Giles took the chair. “I call dibs on leftovers.”

“You may have as much as you wish,” Giles said.

“Prezzie time!” Buffy announced, as she began doling out the gifts. They had put a limit of $3.00, including tax, on the exchange. Buffy’s gifts came wrapped in Christmas paper, and Willow’s were in little gift bags. Giles had cards. Xander had used the free ad circular that had come in the mail. William’s plates of gifts were half eaten already.

“Who first?” Willow asked, folder her legs under her.

“Since you asked, why don’t you go?” Giles said.

Willow grinned and dove into her small pile. “From Buffy… half-moon earrings. Thank you!”

“For your witchy side,” Buffy said, settling on the couch beside her. “I thought about getting you new moon earrings, but then you’d have nothing to open.”

Willow laughed, William chuckled, and Giles smiled at the joke. Xander didn’t get it.

“From Xander…,” Willow opened his gift, “...sparkly black nail polish.”

“It’s called Witchy Black,” Xander told her.

“I’m sensing a theme.” Willow smiled at him. “Thank you.” Xander inclined his head in acknowledgment.

Giles’s card was next, and Willow teared up a little when she read it. She clutched it to her chest. “Thank you, Giles.”

“You are quite welcome,” Giles said.

“You’re not gonna share?” Xander said. Willow shook her head negatively.

“My turn!” Buffy declared, and opened her card first. She read it silently, as well, then got up to give Giles a hug. “Thank you.”

Giles flustered, and patted her on the back. “Of course.”

She retook her seat, and opened Xander’s gift next. “I got nail polish, too. This one’s called Blood Red. Ha-ha, very funny.”

“I thought it was,” Xander said.

Buffy grinned at him. “Thank you.” She opened Willow’s gift, which was a small vial. She glanced questioningly at Willow.

“Homemade perfume,” Willow told her.

Buffy uncapped the vial, took a sniff, and smiled. “Smells yummy.” She dabbed some on her wrists before recapping the vial and tucking it into her pocket. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Xander, you’re up,” Buffy said.

Xander opened Willow’s gift first. It was another vial. “Perfume?”

“Actually, it’s for helping to prevent you from getting a cold,” Willow said. “Dab a little behind your ears, and you should be sick-free. And, you know, smell good, too.”

Xander uncapped the vial and took a sniff. It smelled like cinnamon and spice. His stomach wanted to rumble, but he was too full. “Thanks, Willow.”

“You’re very welcome,” she said.

Xander slipped the recapped vial into his shirt pocket and opened Buffy’s gift next. It was a rosary with a heavy metal cross. “Always handy.”

“I figured you could hang it by your door, so you have a cross in reach in case you get any more unwelcome visitors,” Buffy said.

“Good idea.” Xander tipped an invisible hat to her. “Thanks.”

Buffy nodded, and Xander opened Giles’s card. It had a Christmas tree on the front without words. Inside, a simple Merry Christmas was printed by the card company. Giles had penned beneath it: This card is valid for one free meal per week in my home. No apocalypse required. Warm regards, Giles.

Xander felt gooey in his heart, and he smiled sincerely at Giles. “Thank you.”

Giles inclined his head. He gestured to William. “William is welcome, too, of course.”

William, who had been silently watching and fiddling with the gifts in his lap, tilted his head questioningly. “Welcome where?”

“Here,” Xander said. He passed William the card to read, and cleared his throat. “Giles, you’re next.”

Giles opened another cold-preventative vial from Willow and a bookmark from Buffy. “‘To tea, or not to tea, that is the question,’” Giles read, and showed them the picture of Shakespeare holding a teacup. “How very droll.” Buffy grinned.

Giles opened Xander gift, a refrigerator magnet that read I Cannot Live Without Books. “Literally, in our case,” Xander said.

Willow and William both laughed. “Did you mean to make a funny?” Willow said. “‘Cuz that was funny. Punny funny.”

“Uh… sure.” Xander didn’t get the joke he supposedly made, but pretended he did.

“Thank you, Xander,” Giles said, and then widened his gratitude. “Thank you, all.”

“That leaves William,” Willow said, nudging his arm.

“You need not have gotten me anything,” William demurred.

“Of course we should have!” Willow said. “You’re one of us now. That means you get prezzies, too.”

Lightly flushed with pleasure, William opened Willow’s gift first. Another vial. “Not a cold preventative,” Willow assured him. “Sprinkle this one on your pillow, and it will help you sleep and have good dreams.”

William smiled at her. “Thank you. It is appreciated.”

Buffy had gifted him a cross, as well, this one a small sterling silver cross on a chain. “You might not be a jewelry kinda guy, but at least keep it in your pocket. It burns vamps.”

“So I have read,” William said. “I do not plan to go out at night, but if I must, this gives me a slight sense of comfort.”

“Open mine, next,” Xander told him. He watched as William unwrapped the long, skinny item. Xander had a hard time finding something for William in the right price range, since putting a bow on himself wouldn’t be welcomed.

“It is a biro,” William said. “With… green ink?”

“Yeah. I know, lame.” Xander shifted on the arm of the couch. “But I’ve seen you writing in that notebook of yours, so I thought I’d get you a special pen.”

William smiled up at him, with sincerity. “Thank you. I shall verily employ it.”

Xander felt a rush of desire for William, which he tamped down immediately. “You’re welcome.”

William turned his attention to Giles card. Before he could open it, Giles cleared his throat. “Ah, this gift does not fit in- into our cost parameters,” Giles said. “However, I felt it necessary, as William is here through no fault of his own.”

“My bad.” Xander lifted both hands in surrender. Then he clapped them on his thighs. “But the alternative is Spike, and can we really say that this is not of the good?”

“I can’t picture Spike sitting here with us, exchanging gifts.” Buffy shuddered. “Now I’m going to have nightmares.”

“You may borrow Willow’s sleep aid gift from me, if you would like,” William offered.

“That’s okay,” Buffy declined. “But thanks.”

Willow suddenly giggled. “Can you picture Spike wearing a Santa hat?” Xander snorted in amusement.

Giles shook his head. “Now I shall be the one with nightmares. And no, William, I do not need to borrow the sleep aid. Perhaps you should open your card, instead.”

William nodded and opened Giles’s gift. The card was similar to Xander’s, sans personal message. The envelope came with more than the card. “What is all of this?” William asked.

“A birth certificate, social security card, certified university transcripts, and a bank passport,” Giles explained. “With these items, you should be able to enroll in any university you wish, to complete your schooling.”

Willow looked over his shoulder at the bank passport. “Wow. That’s a lot of zeroes.”

Xander’s eyes bugged when he saw the amount, as well. “Are you secretly a bazillionaire, Giles?”

“No.” Giles shook his head. “But the recompense from the state from the, ah, destruction of the school, in returned for staff silence about the Mayor and Principal’s involvement, was generous.”

“I was wondering how you were paying your bills,” Buffy said. “Being unemployed and all.”

“I have saved over the years,” Giles told her. “But the generous amount from the state did help.”

“How’d you get the birth certificate and social security card?” Xander said.

“It’s better that I not say,” Giles replied. “The transcripts reflect what you would have studied, William, if you were currently enrolled at University College, London. I have learned that not all classes shall be applied as a transfer student, but enough of them so that you may complete your degree within two to three years.”

“What if they call the college in London to see if William was a student?” Willow asked.

“It is taken care of,” Giles told her. “It has been a rather busy week.”

“You should not have gone to the trouble-,” William started, but Giles cut him off.

“I could not in good conscience leave you adrift,” Giles said. “You are now a proper citizen of the United States, who lived abroad for a majority of his life. You shall have to accompany me to the bank, to affix your signature to the trustee account. I shall aid you in obtaining your State ID, as well.”

“You can probably enroll before next semester starts,” Willow said, playing with the transcript envelope. “But first, you’ll need to decide where you’ll go. Will you stay in town? Stay in state? Leave the state? Big school? Small school? So many choices!”

William’s eyes grew round as saucers behind his glasses, as Willow bombarded him with options. “Oh, my.”

Xander felt both pleased for William, and downhearted. He’d liked having William around, even if it was hell on his libido. Now William would join Buffy and Willow in the halls of academia, living in a dorm, and not really have time for the working stiff. It was probably for the good, anyway, seeing as how William wasn’t into dudes. Xander could get over his crush a lot faster if William wasn’t living with him.

William thanked Giles profusely, in a very proper British way, and Giles deftly deflected. Conversation began to revolve around school again, something Xander was not a part of, and he took the opportunity to get more cookies. There was nothing like peanut butter to soothe the sad soul.

“Did you have fun?” Xander asked, as they made their way into the courtyard from the parking lot at the Dusty Rose. Xander was loaded down with leftovers, while William carried their gifts and the library book bag.

“I did,” William replied, and it was the truth. He found the evening entertaining, and never once felt awkward or out of place amongst the company. “Your friends are quite lovely.”

“Our friends,” Xander corrected. “They’re your friends now, too.”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“No supposing about it. Buffy and Willow are thrilled to have someone else talk about school with, and Giles wouldn’t have gone out of his way to set you up if he didn’t care.” Xander stopped behind William when they reached their apartment door. William shifted his items and dug his key out of his pocket. “In fact, you have more in common with them than you do with me.”

William unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Perhaps.”

“In fact, I wouldn’t be surpriiiAI—”

Xander’s sentence cut off in a yelp. William spun around in time to see the giant reindeer-man – a chaos demon, Giles had told them – slam Xander’s face into the doorjamb. Colorful lights entwined in antlers blinked red, yellow, green, and blue, as Xander crumpled to the ground, unconscious, the leftovers spilling around him. William’s heart jammed into his throat, preventing him from getting any air. His head spun as the chaos demon reached for him.

His last conscious thought before he fainted was: Its still wearing that hideous lighted vest.

William roused to consciousness with a case of déjà vu, tied to a chair in a strange room. Ropes bound his chest and his wrists to the back and arms of the chair. The chair itself was different, and he was not in a basement flat. This flat had flocked gold wallpaper, a large bed with a patterned gold coverlet, a dresser with a television chained to it, and a small round table with a chair situated near a stained curtained window. A deep red stole was draped on the back of the chair. A lit table lamp with a dirty cream shade stood on a bedside table, along with a telephone. A door in the back of the room peeked into a darkened loo. The chair he was sat in was positioned between the bed and the round table.

He was also not alone, only this time it wasn’t Xander. His heart slammed in fear against his breastbone, and he struggled against his bonds. Drusilla glided over to him, pale and pulchritudinous, a wicked smile on her red-stained lips. She wore the same diaphanous white gown that floated hauntingly as she moved. “You’re awake. Good. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Wh-wh-what do you- you want?” William fought against fainting, and shrank back as much as he could in the chair as she approached. He tried not to piss himself.

“I want my Spike.” Drusilla stepped between William’s legs and pushed her sharply nailed hands into his hair.“I want my Spike to return, so that we may...”

She trailed off, and an expression of consternation creased her brow. “This cannot be.” She moved her fingers around William’s head, as if giving him a phrenology exam. She paused in one particular spot. “Oh, no. No!” She backed away from him with a hand to her lips, her eyes luminous and sad. “You can no longer make the angels cry tears of blood.”William had no idea what she meant, nor did he care. He watched, still terrified, as she picked up the stole and opened the main door to the flat. She paused in the doorway, looking back at him sorrowfully. “Goodbye forever, my love.”

She left, closing the door behind her.

William felt himself falling into another faint, but shook his head hard to clear it. His pounding heart echoed loudly in his ears. He waited, staring at the door for several long, tense minutes until he realized she was not returning. He sucked in a deep, shaking breath and felt tears prick his eyes. It seemed he might be safe.

The slightly parted stained curtains over the window allowed him a view of a parking lot. A variety of cars and trucks were parked in the lot. Beyond it, he saw the motorway, and could now hear the traffic from it as he calmed. He took another deep breath and exhaled with relief.

William tugged against his rope bonds. They were quite secure. He called for help repeatedly, but received no assistance.

Eventually, he looked around the room again, searching for salvation. He spotted it in the telephone. The bedside table wasn’t too far from him. He began scooting the chair across the beige carpeted floor, being careful not to tip.

Xander had demonstrated how to utilize the telephone, and had him memorize several phone numbers, including the one for their apartment. The telephone on the bedside table was similar to the one in Giles’s home, a flat desk model with the buttons beside a thin receiver. It also had instructions printed on it as to how to “dial out.”

William maneuvered as close as he was able, putting himself shoulder to table. He leaned as far as he could, tipping the chair, but could not reach the phone. Before he went into a new panic, he recalled placing the biro Xander had gifted him in the breast pocket of his shirt. William glanced down and saw the biro still there.

He tucked his chin and craned forward. With effort, he manged to snag the biro with his lips and pull it free from his pocket. Satisfied, he adjusted the biro more securely in his mouth, leaned as far as he could once more, and used the biro knock the receiver off the base. He was lucky it was a lightweight receiver. Xander’s telephone was quite heavy.

A dial tone indicated his success. William followed the instructions and, using the biro tip, dialed Xander’s phone number. It began to ring.

The sound of a ringing telephone dragged Xander from the land of darkness into the land of agony. He groaned, wincing when he placed a hand to his head. He squinted open his pained eyes. He was on the hard ground, a spilled plate of ham near his nose. Why was he… William!

Xander sat up swiftly, and almost regretted it when his head spun. He came close to puking. The telephone continued to ring, as he didn’t own an answering machine. Tasting blood on his lips, he looked around with what felt like swollen eyes but didn’t see William anywhere.

Struggling to his feet, Xander staggered into the apartment. A quick glanced showed William missing and no blood pools anywhere. Both a good and bad sign. The phone rang again, and Xander grabbed it, hoping it was Giles or Buffy. “Buffy?”

“Xander?” William’s voice sounded in Xander’s ear.

“William!” Xander was not expecting William to be on the other end of the line. “Where are you? What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m- I am all right,” William said. It sounded like he was not speaking directly into the receiver. “I am tied to a chair in a flat.”

“Do you know where?”

“The telephone reads the Sunnydale Arms. It is near a motorway. I can see it through the window.”

“Okay. We’ll be right there,” Xander said. “You’re safe, though, right?”

“I am alone,” William told him. “I- I do not believe she will return.”

“She?”

“Drusilla.”

Xander’s stomach dropped, which did nothing to help his nausea. “I have to hang up and call Buffy. You hold tight.”

William agreed, and Xander disconnected and immediately dialed Buffy. Xander’s face throbbed, and every time he tried to touch his nose pain bolted through his head. His nose was likely broken.

Buffy answered on the third ring, and Xander quickly filled her in. She agreed to meet him at the motel as soon as she could get there. Xander left the food where it had fallen, kicked the gifts and books out of the way, and slammed the apartment door shut behind him as he rushed to rescue William.

The Sunnydale Arms was located at the edge of town, a highway motel that catered to truckers and prostitutes. It was a one-story strip motel, with twelve rooms and an office at the end. The parking lot was partially full. Buffy arrived shortly after Xander, still dressed as she had been at dinner. “You look awful.”

“Thanks,” Xander said. “My face met a wall.”

“The wall definitely won,” she said, and looked at the row of doors. “Which room?”

“Don’t know. Beat up the desk clerk and find out.” Xander was itching to find William, to make sure he was safe.

“Do you really think they checked in?” Buffy said skeptically.

Xander’s voice was irritated. “What do you suggest then?”

“We’ll walk along outside the rooms, calling William’s name. We should hear him. It’s not like the walls are thick.”

Xander nodded and regretted it as he head throbbed harder. He would probably have to hit Urgent Care after they rescued William. Hopefully, William didn’t need Urgent Care, too. The possibility that he might spurred Xander on and cracked his voice as he called, “William!” near each door.

The eighth door down, they heard a muffled return call. “Xander!”

Buffy wasted no time in kicking open the door. She rushed in, searching for danger, with Xander at her heels. He saw William tied to a chair by a beeping phone. He rushed over and touched William’s forearms, shoulders, cheek. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” Xander repeated in a shaky tone.

“But you are not.” William sounded both worried and aghast. “Your face. We must get you to a doctor.”

“I’m going to check around outside, make sure Drusilla’s gone,” Buffy told them, before leaving the motel room.

Xander freed William from the chair back before working on his wrists. He struggled with the second one. His hands shook, his face throbbed, and his eyes were swelling shut. “C’mon already.”

The second wrist finally freed, and Xander pulled William to his feet and into a tight hug. His heart trembled in relief. William’s arms came around him, and he hugged back equally as fierce. “I’m so glad you’re all right,” Xander murmured against the side of William’s head. They were nearly the same height.

“She was going to turn me,” a tremor ran through William, “but she changed her mind.”

“She did?” Xander was reluctant to let go, but he did. He still kept his hands on William’s shoulders. “I wonder why?”

“She said I could ‘no longer make the angels cry tears of blood’ after touching my head.”

“The chip,” Xander realized. “Oh, thank god for quirks of fate.”

“Chip?” William studied Xander’s face. “We must get you to a doctor.”

Xander slid his arm around William’s shoulders, not wanting to lose contact just yet, and led him out the door. “Spike had a behavior modification chip stuck in his head, stopped him from hurting anyone,” he explained. “It’s why he was tied up in my basement, and then you were tied up in my basement when you arrived. Giles was making him stay with me.”

“Ah. I presume I still have this chip, then, which is why Drusilla did not turn me,” William said, his arm comfortably around Xander’s waist.

“Yeah. Don’t know why she didn’t kill you, though, but I’m infinitely glad.”

“Hey, guys.” Buffy approached them in the parking lot. “I haven’t seen Drusilla or the chaos demon. Looks like they left. Hopefully for good.”

“Drusilla did bid me goodbye ‘forever,’” William said, as they neared Xander’s car.

“That’s a mark in the hope column.” Buffy looked William over. “Glad you’re okay. Get him to the doctor, will you?”

“I will,” William promised. “And thank you for the rescue.”

Buffy gave him a brief smile. “I was heading out on patrol anyway. Bye, you two.”

“Bye, Buff. Thanks again,” Xander bid her, and watched as she made for her car. He pulled his own car keys from his pocket. Now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off, his face felt like it was going to explode. “We should probably get to Urgent Care before I can’t see anymore to drive.”

William’s attraction to Xander grew exponentially since the hug at the motel. William initially marked it as misinterpreted gratitude; he could still feel the warmth of Xander’s body against his, his arms lingering around William’s back. As the bruising faded and his broken nose slowly healed, Xander grew more handsome to him. William finally had to admit to himself that he wanted more than friendship with Xander.

Now, he needed to decide what to do about it. His mother had given him etiquette lessons, which included courting. They were past formal introductions – though nothing about how they met could be considered formal – and they had become well acquainted through conversation. It would be silly to write a permissive letter to Xander’s father, considering Xander did not reside with his parents. A chaperone was equally ridiculous, as he and Xander already resided together. William was somewhat of a loss as to what to do next.

William sat on the love seat in the living room, wearing plaid flannel pajamas, surrounded by university materials. A mug of hot tea was cupped in his hand. The table lamp cast a glow in the otherwise dark room. Xander lay asleep beyond the closed bedroom door.

The new year had come and passed without incident. William had applied and was accepted as a transfer student to University of California, Sunnydale. Willow had accompanied him to the library to review the variety of universities throughout the United States that he could attend. He’d decided that he’d gone far enough afield via time travel and would rather not have any more drastic changes.

The transcript Giles had provided enabled William to enroll as a second year student and saved him from taking science, a boon considering the vast developments that had occurred since the 1870s. Giles had indicated William’s studies had concentrated on pre-19th Century literature. According to the registrar’s office, William would be required to take four Foundation of Society and Culture courses and four semesters of language courses to complete his general education. The remainder of his studies would be in English, with a concentration in creative writing so that he may pursue his poetry endeavors.

William had two more days to enroll in classes for the semester. The registrar had provided him with a list of classes that would have room for him. The minimum number of classes he could take was four and the maximum was seven. He thought it wise to take the minimum, as he was certain both the time and cultural differences would taxing.

He also had two more days to decide if he was going to move into student housing. He was reluctant to do so, as he enjoyed residing with Xander. However, he was a guest, foisted upon Xander by Giles, and Xander might not wish William to remain. Remaining at the apartment would also require transportation to and from the campus, whereas residing in student housing meant he would be able to walk. It was a conundrum that would require speaking to Xander. He had not broached the subject as of yet.

He took a sip of tea, debating his course choices. He heard the bedroom door open. Xander emerged, disheveled and sleepy-eyed, dressed in a t-shirt and boxers that doubled as his sleep attire. He squinted from the light, shielding his eyes with a hand. “What’re you doing up?”

“Nightmare,” William admitted.

“Again?”

William nodded, and Xander grunted in dismay. “Be right back,” Xander said, and disappeared into the bathroom.

William shifted the papers and books from the seat beside him to the coffee table. Xander re-emerged, looking more awake, and made a detour to the kitchen for a cup of tea before joining William on the sofa. “Same dream?” Xander asked, and took a sip of his tea.

“Same enough,” William said. “This time you drowned in the pool before I was taken.”

“I’m sorry, man.” Xander put his hand on William’s knee. “Wish I could take these nightmares away.”

The warmth of Xander’s hand sent inappropriate tingles through William. However, he did not shift away. “I must do something about my propensity for fainting. Not only is it unbecoming, it is life endangering. If I had not wilted like a lily, perhaps you would not have been injured.”

Xander’s lips pressed together tightly. “Doubtful. I’m usually the human punching bag, while the others do the heavy lifting.”

“Still, I do not like it.”

“Maybe the college offers a self-defense class.” Xander glanced at the papers on the coffee table. “If not, there’s probably one in town.”

“Perhaps.” William mulled over the suggestion. A self-defense class might boost his confidence. “Would you take it with me?”

“Can’t, if it’s at the college,” Xander said. “For students only.”

William studied Xander over the rim of his teacup. “Why did you choose not to attend university, like your friends?”

Xander stiffened, and the hand left William’s knee. William immediately felt bereft. “Couldn’t afford it, not smart enough, don’t like school, take your pick.”

“My apologies,” William said quickly. “I did not know it was a sensitive topic.”

Xander took a deep breath, sighed, and relaxed. “Sorry. I guess it is.”

“May I ask why? If you wish to speak about it, that is,” William said.

“Yeah, it’s okay.” Xander looked down into his partially empty cup of tea. “I didn’t think I’d still be here, actually. In Sunnydale. I never really liked school, so after we graduated, I thought I’d go on the road, travel, see the country. But it didn’t work out. The car broke down a couple hours from here, and by the time I scraped up enough money to replace it, I thought why bother going on? So I came home.”

“That must’ve been disappointing.”

“It was.” Xander sighed again. “I mean, I did have some fun while I was in Oxnard, once people started talking to me. Met some cute guyyyals. Gals. Ladies. Them.” Xander seemed flustered. “I like me them boobies.”

William caught what Xander had initially been going to say, and wondered at the cover up. “I thought you had said you were attracted to men, as well.”

“Did I?” Xander laughed uncomfortably. “I wouldn’t have said that. When did I say that?”

“When we were speaking about courting,” William said. “You stated you preferred strong women and ‘nerdy’ men.” William did not know what ‘nerdy’ meant, but that was not the crux of the issue. “Was I mistaken?”

“Oh, um, ha-ha-ha.” Xander shifted, looked at William, looked toward the kitchen, looked at his cup, and finally blew out his cheeks with a loud exhale of breath. “Would it bother you?”

“Would what bother me?”

“If I liked men, too.”

William shook his head. “No, not at all.” He would not have entertained courting Xander, otherwise.

“Oh, good.” Xander slumped in relief. “That’s… good. So, yeah. I guess I, uh, like men, too. Don’t tell anyone,” he tacked on swiftly.

“Is it a taboo?” William grew worried. Such things were not spoken about in his time. He wondered if it was the same in the year 2000.

“No. Not really,” Xander said, rubbing the side of his neck. “I’m just not… out to anyone else. Not yet, anyway.”

William surmised that ‘out’ was a way of saying that others did not know the truth. “Then I am honored that you trust me with this knowledge.”

Xander gave him a wavering smile. “It’s kinda a relief, you know? That someone knows. Besides the guys in Oxnard.”

William took a chance, and tentatively placed his hand on Xander’s bare knee. “It is important information.” He felt heat flood his cheeks, and he removed his hand swiftly. Self-conscious from his boldness, he leaned forward to grab his papers, spilling his tea as he did so. “Oh, dear.”

“I got it.” Xander rose, went into the kitchen, and retrieved the dish towel. He left his teacup in the kitchen. Crouching beside the coffee table, he sopped up the mess that landed primarily on the floor and over William’s hand.

William set his mostly empty teacup on the side table. “I had best wash up.” He rose, skirted around the opposite side of the coffee table, and escaped from the living room into the bathroom. The door safely locked behind him, he stood at the sink to wash his hands. The mirror reflected wide eyes and blushing cheeks.

“You are too old to be reacting in this manner,” William chided his reflection. While he did not have experience, he was also not a dewy-eyed maiden. He was a man and should act like it.

Squaring his shoulders, William returned to the living room. Xander had finished cleaning up, and was standing near the coffee table with a piece of paper in hand. He titled the page in William’s direction, an inscrutable expression on his face. “You’re moving out?”

William faltered, but then reminded himself of his resolve. “I… no. Not unless you wish it. I know it was not your idea to have me move in with you.”

“Oh.” Xander looked at the page in his hand, then dropped it on the neatened pile on the table. His expression lightened. “Good. I kinda like having you around.”

William was joyed by the response. “It does beg the question as to how I shall go back and forth to the school.”

“I suppose I could teach you how to drive.”

“Er… perhaps there is another method of travel?”

Xander laughed. “You should see your face.”

William scowled. “Perhaps you would like to travel to another century and see how you fair.”

Xander held up his hands in surrender, still chuckling. “Sorry, sorry. I know it’s gotta be tough.”

William grumbled, and Xander walked over and slung his arm around William’s shoulder. “We’ll figure something out.” He guided them toward the bedroom. “Think you can sleep now?”

William enjoyed the warmth of Xander’s arm around him. “Yes, I believe I shall.”

William found the return to academia to be invigorating. His classes were both interesting and challenging. The differences between study in his own time and now were few enough that he did not feel completely lost. Class sizes were larger, and the students dressed very casually. A few appeared to remain in their pajamas.

Fortuitously, it had turned out that the university had a ride share program, enabling William to go back and forth from the Dusty Rose with little hassle. Occasionally, Giles would give him a lift in the morning, or Xander would pick him up from the campus library after work. The days could be long, but he occupied the time on campus by filling in additional gaps in his knowledge or visiting with other students on the quad or in the student union. The money that had been earmarked for boarding went to assist Xander in paying rent, utilities, and groceries.

On Saturdays, he and Xander ate an early dinner at Giles’s every week. William cooked the rest of the time. On Sunday afternoons, they took a self-defense class at one of the martial arts studios in town. The best self-defense, they’d learned, was not to walk by yourself if possible, to have an escape route, and to be aware of your surroundings at all times. If those three things failed, then you had a physical recourse. William felt more confident after every class, though he always had a splitting headache, as well.

January slid into February, and William had decided it was time to stop dallying about courting Xander. Valentine’s Day neared, and William’s love of poetry stemmed from the tradition of handwritten cards. His mother had several small manuals of verse that could be copied for Valentine’s, and William had spent his childhood reading them over and over again. As a courtship ritual, he knew the importance of sending a handwritten card to one’s intended.

William toyed with the idea of crafting his own poem, instead of copying verse from one of his favorite poets. While his own writing paled next to the greats, it would have more sincerity if he wrote it. The campus bookstore sold stationary beyond that of composition books. He could even utilize the green biro Xander had gifted him at Christmas, the one that had enabled his rescue from the Sunnydale Arms. He cherished that biro.

Decided, William bought the stationary the next day on campus, and set about crafting a courtship Valentine’s poem.

The best part of weekends was sleeping in, Xander thought, as he stretched in bed feeling well-rested. He could tell by the way the sun hit the wall, where it peeked through the curtained window, that it was late. The bedroom was set up with the twin beds flanking the window and a night stand between them. Across from the beds was the closet. Neither of them had much in the way of clothing, eliminating the need to cram a dresser into the small room.

Xander rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the prickle of stubble. He debated on whether or not to shave that morning. Giles had a date, so they weren’t going to his place for dinner. Buffy was going out with Riley, and Willow had said she “had plans” when Xander asked her if she wanted to come over for a Friends Valentine’s evening. That left him and William bacheloring it up, unless William had been asked out and hadn’t mentioned it. Xander would have to ask. Still, it meant no shaving necessary.

Xander sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He had a few household chores to do today, including laundry, and his car could use a clean. He scratched his belly over his white t-shirt, which were paired with Scooby boxers that he wore as pajamas, and yawned one last time. He glanced at the clock, to see how late it really was, but found the red illuminated numbers blocked by an envelope bearing his name.

Curious, Xander picked up the envelope. His name was written in William’s familiar slant and with a green pen. Why would William leave him a letter? They lived together and could speak face-to-face. Xander’s stomach dropped. Unless it was a Dear John-type of letter, saying William changed his mind and was moving out. Xander liked living with William, even if it was torturous on his libido. William was a great person, interesting and fun in an old-fashioned way. And they were close – at least, Xander had thought they were. Xander didn’t want their friendship to fade into the background like it had with Willow and Buffy.

With trepidation, Xander opened the unsealed envelope and unfolded the letter within. It was written with green ink on quality stationary. He took a deep breath before he began to read.

I wanted to ask
if you would be interested
and now find my insides
all a-twisted

You brighten my day
and evening, as well
My heart, in your presence,
it doth swell

I may be a man
who traveled through time
but still I would ask
if you would be mine?

-William

Xander stared, agog, at the letter. Had William written him a love poem? That couldn’t be right. William was straight. It had to be a mistake. Or a joke. A cruel one.

Anger speared through Xander, and he shot to his feet. He stormed out of the bedroom, letter clenched in his hand, to find William and give him hell.

William stood in the kitchen, pink shirtsleeves rolled up, as he cleaned the sink. He glanced at Xander and colored slightly before studiously scrubbing some more. “Good- good morning.”

“Don’t you ‘good morning’ me!” Xander spat, and slapped the letter against William’s chest. “What the hell is this?”

William winced in pain, relinquished the sponge, and grabbed the letter. His damp hand left wet marks on the paper. The color that had been in his cheeks paled drastically. “It is- it was- I had wished—”

“Stop stammering and spit it out.” Xander folded his arms and glowered at William. “I don’t find it funny at all.”

William dropped his chin, and whispered forlornly, “It wasn’t meant to be funny.”

“Oh, yeah? Then what was it meant to be? ‘Cuz it sure as hell isn’t nice.”

William flinched as if he’d been struck. “Oh. I see.”

“Well I don’t. I’m still waiting for an explanation on why you’d do something like this. I thought we were friends.”

“We are.”

Xander snorted. “Friends don’t make fun of friends because they’re gay. The homosexual one, not the happy version.”

“I- I understood,” William stammered. His gaze remained on the floor. “I was not- not jesting. I had thought- I meant- I- I- I was being sin- sincere...”

“Yeah, right.” Xander was steamed. He couldn’t believe William was going on like this. Not even an apology. “Unless you’re about to tell me love poems meant something else in 1874, I don’t want to hear it.”

“No. I mean, yes. I mean, no.” William shook his head, and twisted the letter in his hands. “I had- I had hoped to- to court you.”

“Wait, what?” Xander said. Court? What the hell was William talking about? “What do you mean, ‘court?’”

William still did not lift his gaze. “It- it means to be involved romantically, with- with intention.”

Xander frowned. He was missing something here. “But you like girls.”

“I never said that,” William mumbled.

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold on.” Xander unfolded his arms. “We had this discussion. You said you liked girls.”

William shook his head again, addressing his feet. “I- I said that I would like someone who was sincerely interested in what I had to say. You- you inferred a gender, not- not I.”

Xander opened his mouth to speak and closed it again, as his brain caught up with what his ears heard. He thought back to their various conversations about sex and dating. He couldn’t remember William saying anything about liking guys – and he definitely would’ve remembered that – but he also couldn’t recall him denying his attraction to girls. “But you never said you didn’t like girls, either.”

“I do not find them objectionable,” William said, and the phrase seemed very familiar to Xander.

“So now you like both? Or you always liked both?” Xander’s anger had given way to confusion that was sliding into something else entirely.

“I never had a preference,” William admitted quietly, head still lowered. “I thought I would know when I truly fancied someone. I- I thought I did...”

Xander felt a flutter in his chest. “Your letter was real.”

William nodded.

“And it was for me.”

Another slight nod.

“Because you want to court me.”

Another nod.

The flutter turned into a full-blown thudding. William was interested in Xander. Romantically interested. Guy-on-guy interested. Holy cowskies!

Xander searched William’s down-turned face. William’s cheeks had filled out from the great meals he made almost nightly. With his short, dark blond hair and glasses, he did not resemble a copy of anyone, living or undead. He was truly himself, fantastically bookish personality and all, and Xander knew there was only one thing to do about it.

Xander closed the distance between them, cupped William’s chin, and lifted it. William’s eyes reflected misery and dejection, which Xander had put there. And now he had to erase. Without further hesitation, Xander kissed William.

William inhaled sharply, and Xander could feel him tremor. The letter in his hand crinkled. The kiss was chaste, closed-mouthed. Soft. Trembling. Perfect. Xander felt like he’d dove off the high dive and was plummeting into a belly flop. Every nerve ending was on high alert, and he was sure he was quivering.

He suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe, and he pulled away to take a shaky gulp of air. He lowered his hand and opened his eyes. William appeared stunned, his face rosy-hued. The poor letter was mangled in his grip. Xander reached out and carefully tugged it free. He smoothed it out as best he could. William’s damp hands had made the ink bleed, but the words were legible enough.

“Yes,” Xander said.

William blinked out of his daze. “Pardon?”

Xander held up the battered letter. “Yes.”

“Oh… oh!” William’s understanding came with a darker, visible flush of pleasure that splashed across his face. He rubbed the back of his neck, a shy smile blooming on his lips. “Marvelous.”

“Yeah.” Xander wanted to kiss William again, but floundered. He’d come way too close to blowing something spectacular. And he had to piss like a racehorse. “I’m, uh, gonna take a shower, and stuff.”

William nodded. “All right.”

Xander smiled awkwardly and fled to the bathroom.

William sank onto the love seat in the living room once Xander was gone, and buried his face in his hands. His emotions had gone on a wild carriage ride. He had expected, when Xander had found the letter, to be either accepted or rejected. The rage Xander had displayed instead had sent William reeling, and then reeling in a different direction once the miscommunication was resolved. Now, he felt both ecstatic and drained. Did all courtships start out in this manner?

William supposed it was his fault for skipping steps. He knew he should have written Xander’s father for permission, perhaps even arranging for a formal introduction between himself and Xander beforehand, with intentions clearly stated. William would definitely locate proper chaperones for them, especially as Xander had kissed William. That was not supposed to happen as of yet.

It was a lovely kiss, though. His first. It made his lips tingle, his insides tighten, and stole his breath. He wondered if it would always feel that way. He hoped to find out… No, no. He should comport himself appropriately and follow the proper courtship steps.

Xander poked his head out of the bathroom. “Hey, do you want to go out to dinner with me? Well, late lunch-early dinner, since it’s Valentine’s Day and all the nicer places will be booked up.”

William nodded. “Of course I will go.”

Xander gave him a sunny smile, and William’s resolve was lost.

They ended up at IHOP, as it was open prior to four and fit Xander’s budget. Though it was pretty packed with seniors, they managed to get a table within a few minutes wait. The décor included blue walls, red booths, brown tables and carpet. The restaurant was festooned with red and pink hearts of various sizes, in honor of Valentine’s Day.

Xander suggested they both have pancakes, so they could partake in the five flavors of syrup located at each table. William agreed, and they fell into slightly strained silence once again.

“This is ridiculous,” Xander finally said. He’d spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon cleaning and doing laundry, while avoiding William as best as possible. William had helped by burying himself in homework. It had been awkward, and it was, indeed, ridiculous. “We’re two adults. We like each other. We kissed. We’re now on a date. We’re about to combine syrups into new and interesting flavors. I think things have changed for the better, don’t you?”

William inclined his head. “I do.”

“Then why are we both acting like we’ve never done this before?”

“Perhaps because I have never done this before?”

“Really?” Xander was surprised, but then realized he wasn’t, considering everything he’d learned about William’s life in the 1870s. “Wait, right. I knew that, or guessed that, or should’ve known that. Whatever. Point is… I have no idea what the point is.”

William grinned at that, but then he became slightly abashed. “It does not bother you, that I am inexperienced in this arena?”

“Nope,” Xander said, and it was the truth. But it also made him wary. William hadn’t sampled what was out there. What would happen when the first time novelty wore off? Xander would get his heart broken.

But then he remembered Jeff, in Oxnard, telling him that heartbreak meant he’d loved with his whole self, and there was no greater gift to give someone than that kind of love. Which was why the breakup with Anya had hurt, even though they’d only been going out for a little over a month. Xander would skydive into this thing with William, and if even he crash-landed, he’d still have the memory of soaring.

Xander rested his chin on his hands, elbows on the table, and smiled at William. “Tell me more about dating in Victorian London.”

It turned out Victorian London had a lot of dating rules. Most of them involved not being alone, because temptation was a kiss away. Xander wouldn’t mind kissing away the rules.

“I do hope I am not boring you,” William said. Their pancakes came, and a multitude of syrup choices mixed and tried, as they continued talking.

“You rarely bore me,” Xander said, tasting a bite of pancake with strawberry-pecan syrup mix. Not great, not bad either. “I like that you think I’m smart enough to understand what you’re talking about.”

William frowned at that. “You are smart.”

“Not book-smart. Or school-smart,” Xander said. “I can read a tape measure, though.”

“Intelligence comes from many areas, not only academics,” William chided.

Xander brushed off his words, and returned to the subject at hand. “Dating now is way different. You meet someone you think you like, you go out on a few dates with them to get to know them. If you still like them, and they like you back, you become boyfriend and girlfriend. Or boyfriend and boyfriend, as the case may be. Then, after a while, if you still like each other, you get engaged and get married. Or have a civil ceremony, since gay marriage isn’t a thing.” Xander sopped up more pancake. “Or, if you’re me, you get yelled at by girls and then they make out or have sex with you and you’re suddenly in a relationship.”

“And, uh, when you were with a- a man?” William asked, avoiding Xander’s gaze and shifting bashfully on his seat. It was adorable. Xander loved it.

“Sex for sex’s sake. Sex and friendship. Nothing led to a relationship.” Xander gestured between the two of them. “This will be new.”

William seemed to find comfort in Xander’s statement of newness, and Xander could understand why. “Which set of rules should we follow? Modern or Victorian?” William said.

Xander shrugged. “I say we play it by ear, go where the mood takes us, and hope for the best.”

“But how will we know when to progress to the next step in our relationship?”

“Probably when I jump your bones.”

William frowned in confusion. “Whatever does that mean?”

Xander grinned with lascivious delight. “You’ll see.”

Xander did not immediately jump William’s bones, though it was tempting. But he wanted to see if they could have a relationship outside of sex. Of the people he’d been with, only he and Cordelia hadn’t done the deed. But their relationship had been based on mutual hatred with nummy makeout sessions. Not exactly healthy.

But Xander really liked William, and he didn’t want to screw this up. So he held back, held hands, stole a kiss on the cheek, and did not bone jump. And, weirdly, it wasn’t a burden. He wasn’t pining for something he couldn’t have, or pressing for it. The sexual attraction was most assuredly there, humming beneath the surface, with every look and touch. But just being around William was enough; the rest was hormones.

Since they both led separate lives during the day, between work and school, they always had something to talk about in the evenings. William liked to read in his spare time, and would share plot points or irritations about his book. Xander had finally gotten a television, and he talked about the shows he watched in similar fashion. Silence was okay, too. Companionable. Nothing like Xander’s parents’ relationship.

That was another worry of Xander’s: that he’d end up like his parents. It had seemed to start that way, with the yelling girlfriends, but maybe the universe had been telling him to embrace the male side of his bisexuality. Maybe that’s why the universe had made him bisexual to begin with, to prevent another marriage in a long line of Harris tragedies. Also, not drinking alcohol ever would be a big plus.

So he would go along and let things evolve naturally with William. And fall a little more in love with him, every day.

William had had enough. He kept waiting for an indication that the time was right to take the next step, only it never seemed to arrive. Oh, how he wished his mother was around for him to inquire, as his research did not reveal how long was appropriate. She had taught him about courting etiquette when he’d turned sixteen, but she had said she would be the one to guide him when she felt he was ready to settle down.

It had been months now. William had completed his first term at a modern university and was taking summer courses. He had gotten his first taste of an apocalyptic event, which he preferred not to repeat if at all possible. He and Xander continued to reside together, have meals together, sit close to one another and hold hands. But it was no longer enough. William wanted more, right time or not. But how did he go about it?

He definitely would not write another poem. The last one had almost ended poorly. Perhaps a letter? A store-purchased card? Or perhaps he should simply speak to Xander. The most straightforward option would likely be the best. Conversations with Xander were not difficult, even the most personal ones, aside from initiating them. But he had confidence in himself, much more so than when he first arrived in this time period.

William exited the library on campus and headed along the lighted sidewalk for the parking area. He had prearranged for a pick up from Xander after he’d finished work, and he should be awaiting William. The campus was empty this late in the evening on a Wednesday. The few summer students had either returned to their dormitories or had gone home for the night.

William adjusted his bookbag on his shoulders, extra aware of his surroundings this evening. It felt as though he were being watched. He was currently between buildings, the library behind him equidistant to the student union in front of him. The sidewalk he normally took to the parking lot bisected the buildings. Lights shined from the windows in both buildings, which along with the sidewalk lamp lights, illuminated the landscaped area. Bushes and blooming flowers rustled in the faint breeze.

Glancing around carefully, William slipped his hand into the front pocket of his black trousers for his keyring, which had a vial of holy water and a silver cross attached. He wore a pale blue short-sleeved shirt in deference to the summer weather, and he could feel the gooseflesh rising on his bared arms. He could not see anyone, but he was certain someone was there. He had to decide which building to find safety in, until the feeling of danger passed.

William chose the student union building, since he was facing that direction. He did not ‘play it cool,’ as his self-defense instructor cautioned against. He instead broke into a run for the door.

He heard no footsteps behind him, and someone opened the door to the student union when he reached it. The other male held it open for him, with a questioning expression on his stubbled face. The man was tall, muscular, and dressed in gray sweats. “In a hurry?”

“Thank you for holding open the door,” William said politely, though he was breathing heavily from the dash. He did not explain his rush.

“No problem.” The man stepped back, but remained in the vestibule with William. William peered out the glass doors into the evening, searching for the danger.

He had not expected the danger to be in the building with him.

His only warning was the reflection in the window, as the man moved. The man wrapped his arm around William’s neck from behind, trapping him in a choke hold. His face did not morph into a vampire’s visage. It remained twisted with evil human intention. “Gimme your wallet and your backpack.”

William’s heart raced and his head spun, but he did not faint. Adrenaline surged through him and his months of training in self-defense kicked in. He raised his left foot and stamped down as hard as he could with his heel on his assailant’s foot. What felt like a bolt of lightning seared through William’s head as his assailant cried out in his ear. The arm around his neck loosened enough for William to get free.

William staggered, fighting against the blinding pain. He had to finish the self-defense moves or he might be attacked again. Turning, he grabbed the guy by the balls through his sweats and twisted as hard as he could. The assailant screamed. So did William, as his brain exploded and the world went red, then white, then black.

William collapsed to the vestibule floor, unconscious.

Xander tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, watching the walkway between the buildings, waiting for William. William was late, and he was never late. He only went outside at night if there was a firm, close destination. The trip from the campus library to the parking lot was one of the very few trips he would take.

Worry bunched between Xander’s brows, and he finally gave into it. He got out of the car as a hunched guy in a gray sweatsuit hustled past. Xander pocketed his car keys and made his way up the sidewalk to the library. Inside, he asked the person at the check out desk about William, and was told he’d just left. Which meant either Xander had missed him on the well lit sidewalk, or something hinky had gone on.

The worry turned into low-grade panic. Back outside, Xander looked both left and right, trying to determine which way William may have gone. The nearest building was the student union, and they both had learned to find a safe haven if leery of attack. Xander made a beeline for the building.

“William!” Xander spotted William in a heap on the floor behind the glass door. He charged inside, dropped to his knees, and began checking William over hurriedly. “Hey, hey, don’t be hurt, don’t be hurt.”

Xander didn’t find any external injuries. No bite marks or bruises. William had his keyring out, which was on the floor near him, which meant he’d thought there might be a vampire around. The vial of holy water wasn’t uncapped, though. It was possible that William had fainted from fear again, though that hadn’t happened in months.

Xander shook William gently at first, then more urgently. “William! Can you hear me? Wake up!”

William didn’t stir, and Xander didn’t have any smelling salts on him. Taking the chance that the lack of blood meant William had only passed out, Xander pocketed William’s keyring and lifted William into his arms. “Oof, you’re heavy.” Xander shifted the limp weight higher. “Good thing I do construction.”

Xander managed not to drop William between the building and the car. He’d left the doors unlocked – he’d hoped someone would steal it so he could claim insurance for a slightly better model of clunker – and deposited William in the front passenger seat with some jostling and a clonk to Xander’s head. Seat belts in place, Xander didn’t delay on his worried trip home.

Once in the apartment, with William laid out on the bed, his backpack kicked aside, Xander fetched the smelling salts from the first aid kit in the bathroom. The lamp light cast a yellowish glow in the darkened bedroom. Xander sat on the edge of the bed and waved the smelling salts under William’s nose, saying a silent prayer to the powers that watched over fools and their loved ones.

William roused with a start, and immediately grabbed his head with an agonized groan. “My head.”

Relieved by the quick recovery, and mentally thanking the Powers that Be, Xander put the smelling salts back in the first aid kit, which was open on the night stand. “Did you hit it when you fainted?”

“I didn’t faint.” William dug his fingertips into his skull. “It feels like someone jabbed an ice pick into my skull.”

“What happened?” Xander’s concern returned. Maybe he should’ve taken William to the hospital, whether they could afford it or not. “You don’t look hurt.”

“I used self-defense against someone- oh goodness.” William suddenly rolled and vomited over the side of the bed onto the linoleum floor.

“Shit!” Xander jumped to his feet and rushed to the bathroom to snag some towels and the garbage can. He hurried back, setting the plastic bag-lined can next to William on the bed. He dropped the towel over the sick on the floor.

William shuddered, and his face looked sickly gray. His eyes were open in teary slits. “It hurts.”

“I’m going to call Giles. We may need to get you to the hospital.” Xander hurried to the living room and picked up the phone. He dialed Giles’s number. “Pick up quick, pick up quick.”

“Hello?”

“Giles. It’s me. Xander. William’s hurt. Well, his head hurts. Like, really bad. Spew chunks kinda bad. Should I take him to the hospital? He doesn’t have any injuries I can see. But what if he has an inside injury I can’t see? I should take him to the hospital. But he doesn’t have insurance, and there’s no way we can pay for this. What do I do?”

“Take a deep breath, hold it, and let it out slowly,” Giles instructed calmly over the phone. Xander did as told, and his panic subsided slightly. “Now tell me, how did William injure himself?”

“He was in a fight, I guess. He said he had to use his self-defense on someone. He said he didn’t faint.”

“Did he get knocked about the head?”

“I don’t know. I’ll ask.” Xander set the phone down – the cord wasn’t that long – and returned to the bedroom. William clutched the rim of the garbage can in a white-knuckled grip, and his head with his other hand. “Did the guy you fight with – I’m guessing it’s a guy – did he hit you in the head?”

“No.” A sheen of pain-sweat beaded on William’s forehead. “He had me in a choke hold, and I stomped on his foot and then twisted his testicles, as we were taught.”

“When did you head start hurting then?”

“When I stomped on his foot. It was instantaneous, and much more severe than during our lessons.”

“Okay. Hold on.” Xander returned to the phone and relayed the information to Giles. Giles’s reply was immediate.

“It is the chip,” Giles said. “It is still active.”

Xander should’ve known that. “Damn it.” The initiative was long gone, their underground lair blown up, at the beginning of May. “Do you think he’ll be all right?”

“From what I gathered, based on what Spike and- and Riley have said, the chip uses electroshock to control behavior. The severity of the shock varies dependent upon the, uh, the harm to another.”

“Damn it,” Xander repeated. He dragged an angry, frustrated hand over his face. He would kill those initiative bastards if he could. “Is there anything we can do? We’re lucky he didn’t get killed defending himself.”

“I- I will think on it,” Giles said. “In the meantime, Tylenol should help with the pain.”

“Okay, I’ll give him some. Don’t think too long.” Xander hung up, and detoured to the bathroom to get the Tylenol bottle and a cup of water. He returned to the bedroom. “It’s the chip.”

“Pardon?”

Xander perched on the edge of the bed, opened the Tylenol, and shook three out in his hand. He offered them to William, along with the cup of water. “The chip in your head, remember? The reason why Drusilla didn’t re-vamp you. If Spike hurt someone, it gave his brain a shock. You took over his body, so you have the chip.”

“Ah.” William swallowed down the pills, handing Xander back the empty cup. He rested his head back against the pillow, in obvious pain. “I do not like this chip.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Xander crushed the paper cup in his hand. “I’d like to tear those initiative guys a new one, but they’re gone now. Giles said he’d try to think of something we can do.”

William nodded slightly and closed his eyes. He continued to hold the garbage can in a death grip. “Would you mind terribly fetching me an ice pack, and turning out the light?”

Xander did as requested, returning to the bedroom with the ice pack. He gently laid it across William’s brow. “Get some rest. Maybe the Tylenol will work quickly.”

William murmured his thanks, and Xander turned off the light and left him alone.

William sat in bed as a precaution, propped against upraised pillows. It had taken two full days for the excruciating headache to subside. He found it difficult to believe that a small electric chip could be the cause of so much pain. It also explained the headaches he always had during and after self-defense classes. He had been lucky that the padding and half-strength used had curtailed full-blown shocks.

Xander held a device in his hand that resembled a thick calculator with an infrared scanner at one end. Giles had telephoned Willow, who had turned to Buffy, who thusly turned to Riley and obtained this device. Apparently, Riley “owed Buffy one” and presented this to them. The device was something the initiative used to trigger the chips, and so it came to thought that it might also turn off the chips. Willow had tinkered with it until she believed she’d succeeded. Now, it was only a matter of testing to see if it worked.

“Here goes,” Xander said, and pointed the device near William’s skull. He pressed a button.

William felt nothing. “Did it work?”

“It shows it did.” Xander put the device on the night stand and held his right arm out. “Hit me in the arm.”

William punched Xander on the arm lightly. He felt no pain. Xander rolled his eyes. “You actually have to hit me-hit me to see if it worked.”

“I do not wish to harm you.”

“I can handle a sock in the arm. I grew up playing Slug-bug.” Xander pushed his t-shirt sleeve up and held his arm out again. “Now, hit me.”

William hesitated a moment longer before punching Xander’s bicep as hard as he could in his position. The smack of flesh against flesh was loud in the room. “Ow!” Xander exclaimed.

“Oh, I am dreadfully sorry!” William apologized immediately.

Xander rubbed his arm. “Don’t be. Did it work? Does your head hurt?”

William realized his head did not hurt at all, not even a twinge. “It worked.”

“Yipee!” Xander threw his hands in the air, then apparently deciding it wasn’t enough, got up and danced around between the twin beds.

William covered his mouth with his hand as he laughed. “You are ridiculous.”

“Yep, that’s me. Ree-dic-uuu-lous.” Xander punctuated the stretched out word with hip shakes. He grinned at William. “I’ll give Willow a call, tell her it worked.” He danced toward the door.

“Xander?” William called after him.

Xander paused in the doorway and turned toward William. “Yeah?”

“We should become engaged.”

Xander froze in place for a moment. “Two men can’t legally marry.”

“Whatever the equivalent is, then,” William said. His pulse raced and nerves took flight in his stomach, but he now knew that the time was right. “I wish to be with you.”

A smile bloomed on Xander’s lips, lighting up his face with sheer joy. He returned to the bedside, leaned down, and captured William’s mouth in a kiss. Xander’s brown eyes were full of warmth and happiness as he answered William. “I love you.”William felt the heat color his face, as his heart grew a bulge in it. He wrapped his arms around Xander’s neck and pulled him into another kiss on the lips. His third of what he hoped were many, many to come.

The civil ceremony was held on the beach at the tail end of summer. Willow was Xander’s Best Woman, and Buffy stood up with William. Giles officiated, having been ordained online by the Universal Life Church. Willow’s girlfriend, Tara, and Buffy’s sort-of boyfriend, Riley (“It’s complicated.”) sat in attendance.

Anya sat beside Hortence, their feet dangling off the pier, and spied on the unofficial wedding through a pair of binoculars. “I didn’t think Xander’d find someone so soon.”

“Does it bother you?” Hortence asked, eating a fluff of pink cotton candy.

“No, not really,” Anya said. “Our physical parts interlocked well, but not so much the rest of us.”

Hortence stole the binoculars from Anya and peered through them. “They’re kinda cute together. Usually my vengeance spells end in more blood and guts.”

Anya lifted her heel to the edge of the pier and rested her chin on her upraised knee. She watched the ceremony in the distance. “I’m glad it turned out this way.”

“It appears as if the relationship between the blonde—”

“Buffy.”

“—Buffy, and the wide-shouldered hunk isn’t going too well,” Hortence commented, as she lowered the binoculars. She set them aside and popped another piece of cotton candy in her mouth. “Perhaps I’ll hang around and see if she’ll make that wish she wanted...”

End