1880 - Chapter 1

Buffy was running hard. Rounding a corner, she caught sight of her quarry. Not demon, just human. Five minutes ago, someone had stolen an amulet from the Magic Box and Buffy had instantly given chase. After all, it had been a slow night and she’d had nothing better to do.

Pushing herself past the limit, she boosted her speed as they headed into a straight. He was barely a few metres in front of her now and it looked as though she could catch him. She grinned as she felt her Slayer side kick in. Looking up ahead, she registered him taking something from his pocket and then there was a brilliant flash. She couldn’t stop herself from running into it, and the next thing she knew was a wet floor and pain rocketing through her system.

Panting hard, Buffy looked up to see the man almost slipping over as he bolted around the corner. On the floor by her feet was half an amulet. It looked like the one the man had been asking about before he stole it, only different somehow. After a few minutes of staring at it, Buffy realised that the design on it was the exact reverse of the amulet he’d stolen.

Anya was going to kill her for not getting her property back.

As Buffy dragged herself to her feet, she looked at her surroundings, searching for a sign of the man she’d been chasing and frowning when she realised that there was something wholly unfamiliar about her location.

It seemed Anya wasn’t going to be a problem after all.

Jumping backwards, she narrowly avoided being run down by a passing vehicle. The horse whinnied and snorted as it trotted by with the carriage rumbling along the cobbled street behind it.

Wide-eyed, Buffy suddenly felt alone and, for the first time in what seemed like forever, she was scared.

She wasn’t in Sunnydale anymore.

Trying to convince herself not to panic, she looked at everything she could see from the spot she was standing in. The street was so dark, the lamps barely lighting it and only serving to make it look eerier than it already did.

The buildings around her were old, made of brick and wood, and not looking like anything she’d seen in either Sunnydale or Los Angeles.

As a couple walked past her in the dark street, she found the woman looking down her nose at her and Buffy wrinkled her nose up at the elaborate costume she was wearing. She was clothed in a prim looking dress, the top decorated with lace and the skirt gathered in ruffles behind her. Buffy frowned as she watched them pass her by and her attention was drawn to the paper the man had thrown into the bin.

Fishing it out and scanning the cover, she whispered to herself.

“Times, London edition. February 4th, 1880.”

She swallowed hard and glanced at the couple walking up the street. Looking at her reflection in a nearby window, Buffy studied herself. It was no wonder the lady had looked at her that way.

She was wearing baggy black combats and a white shirt. Her hair tied up in a ponytail but with two long strands of hair framing her now muddied face. Her clothes were dirtied by her fall onto the wet pavement, and overall she looked like nothing more than a poor, homeless person. What lady from 1880, dressed up in all their finery, wouldn’t look at her that way?

Walking down a side street, Buffy carried the paper with her and took the amulet out of her pocket. Slumping into a shop doorway, she stared at the paper in one hand and the amulet in the other. A million questions leapt forwards to the front of her mind but one thing was certain—she needed to find that man so she could get home and to do that she was going to need help. She needed someone who knew London, someone who could help her hunt down the man and figure out the mystery behind the amulet.

But she was alone, no Scooby gang to back her up, no Dawn and no Spike.

“Spike!” Buffy whispered as she stared at the date in the top corner of the paper and remembered what he’d told her about when he was turned. Find Spike, he’ll help me… and what do I say to him? You don’t know me only you do know me… I’m from the future? If you aren’t one already, in a few months, or a few weeks, hell maybe even tomorrow, you’re going to become a vampire?

Sighing, Buffy leant into the door. She was tired, wet and too damn confused as to what the hell she was doing here. She was starting to regret giving chase to the thief now. She could have been wrapped up in a warm bed or talking to Dawn while watching late night TV.

Sitting there hugging her knees, she started thinking over what she was going to do. She couldn’t sleep on the streets. She definitely needed a change of clothes but had no money to buy them with, and she was going to starve to death. Pulling out her purse, she stared at the bankcards and dollars in it. Stupid money.

After a few minutes of searching for an answer to her problems, Buffy gave up. Her only hope for help was Spike, presuming he was still human. Standing up, she walked over to a nearby water pump and washed her face. This was going to be hard, nigh on impossible. Looking out into the busy main street, Buffy hugged herself tight and sniffed, watching her warm breath catch in the cold air.

She felt so empty.

Not knowing what else to do, she started walking the streets, hoping to find a solution.


It was the fifth pub that she’d walked into and every time she got the same dirty look from the patrons. One bartender had even asked her what a commoner wanted with someone named William. Every look someone gave her began to grate on her nerves, and every whispered comment made her want to punch someone. It wasn’t her fault she wasn’t dressed like everyone else. She had no way of changing her clothing, and no way of explaining to them that she wasn’t from this place, or even this time.

Buffy’s patience was wearing thin.

“Listen, I need to find him, his name is William. About five feet ten, blue eyes, hopefully human.” She dug her fingernails into the bar to stop herself from hitting the guy next to her. He was watching her with a little too much interest as she talked to the bar tender.

“What’s his last name?” The bartender nodded at her. He was a portly man with brown hair and a moustache.

“I don’t know. He’s a poet. God, forget it.” Buffy pushed away from the bar and headed back out into the street.

Sighing heavily, she checked the road for signs of horses and then started to cross but someone stopped her. Turning, she saw it was the man from the pub.

“Look, mister…” She ground out but he cut her short.

“William you say? Writes poetry?” He smiled at her and Buffy realised he wasn’t the same kind of man she’d been encountering all night. He was actually being nice to her.

“Yeah, I need to find him only I don’t know his last name. All I know him as is William.” Looking up at him, she watched as he looked pensive.

“William the bloody?” He offered her and she frowned on hearing his name.

Buffy felt like her last drop of hope had left her. If he knew him as William the bloody, then surely he was already a vampire, but the guy in front of her wasn’t one so how would he know him?

“I hear they call him that.” She forced a smile.

“Because of his bloody awful poetry. I thought it a little hard on him at first but recently I’m starting to agree.”

Buffy could’ve kissed the man as she realised what he was saying. Spike was still human. Then it hit her—he was called William the bloody because of his bad poetry? She did her best not to laugh and reminded herself that she still had a long way to go. Finding William was only going to help if she could convince him to lend her a hand.

“Do you know where to find him?”

“Try the Lamb and Flag, miss, down the road there and second right. All the young artists patronise it. Maybe you’ll be in luck.” He tipped his hat at her and headed off in the opposite direction, leaving Buffy feeling suddenly nervous.

Following his instructions, she kept as far over on the pavement as possible, hoping her proximity to the buildings and the shadows they were creating would protect her from the looks people were giving her as she passed them by.

She looked up as she heard a sign creaking overhead and managed to suppress the smile that wanted to creep onto her lips.

Pushing the door open, she walked straight to the bar and waited as the bartender served someone. At least in this place she wasn’t attracting as much attention as she had in the others. Pausing to take in her surroundings, she saw it was full of young people and the décor was lighter and more inviting than the previous pubs. Closing her eyes, Buffy felt the tiny spark of hope re-igniting and sent up a silent prayer that he’d be here tonight.

“Miss?”

Buffy turned to see the bartender watching her as he cleaned a glass. Taking a deep breath, she got ready to say the same thing she’d said in the previous places.

“I’m looking for William, he’s around five feet…”

“William? Downstairs, miss. He’ll most likely be in the corner to your left as you reach the bottom of the stairs.” He smiled at her as she beamed brightly and almost bounced on the spot.

Heading for the stairs, Buffy tried to straighten herself out as much as possible as she imagined what he was going to look like. Picturing him in the same clothes as the rest of these people, she kept giggling.

“Look at that unfortunate thing.” A woman laughed with her friend as she passed them by at the bottom of the stairs.

Wiping her hands on her combats, she tried to rid them of dirt.

Buffy felt small and insignificant as she moved through the people. She was dressed like a pauper compared to the people down here. They all looked like they had serious money. She felt sick as she stepped nervously towards the corner the bartender had been talking about. Peering around it, she saw one man there.

He was sitting on a long couch, hunched up as he wrote hurriedly and then paused, pressing his pen to his lips in thought.

Buffy smiled as she recognised his face. He was wearing glasses and his hair was a mousy brown mess but he was still Spike, just Spike with a pulse.

Stepping towards him, she expected him to at least look up but he just continued writing. Moving around to his side a little, she peered over his shoulder as he wrote. She couldn’t believe how bad his handwriting was.

“At least 120 years of unlife improved something.” Buffy muttered to herself as she watched him scrawling illegible words across the paper.

“Can I help you… miss?” He was looking up at her and Buffy had to remind herself that he didn’t have a clue who she was.

She wanted to hug him tight and cry on his shoulder as she looked into such familiar blue eyes, wanted to hear him say he’d kill whoever did this to her just to make her smile again.

“Um… yes.” Buffy moved to sit next to him but he edged away, eyeing her suspiciously.

“What do you want?” He hurriedly shuffled his papers away. “I’ve no money for you.”

“I don’t want your money, Spi… William. I need your help.” Buffy sighed as he stood up and looked down at her with a horrified look on his face.

“I’ll wager that’s not all you’re after.” William backed away as the strange girl stood up. She was a slip of a thing and her state of dress was shocking, but he wasn’t going to let her distract him with her pretty face and rob him.

“Look, I’m just going to come out and say this. I’m not from around here.” Buffy grabbed his arm and pushed him back into the seat. “I’m not from this town, not this country and definitely not this time.”

“Not this time? That’s crazy and I won’t listen to it.” He tried to stand again but Buffy forced him back down. He rubbed his shoulder where she’d pushed him and frowned. He didn’t like how strong this girl was.

“Listen to me. It’s hard to explain. I’m not even born for another century.” Christ, Spike, you could’ve told me you were such a prude.

“Why are you telling this to me?” William searched her eyes. She had an alarming calmness to her that suggested that she was either deluded or she was telling him the truth. He’d read theories about time travel, and mother had thought him crazy.

“I need your help.” She decided it was best to avoid the fact she knew him, albeit the dead him.

As she smiled at him, William felt suddenly warm inside. He was talking to a girl as though she was a man. Something about her made him feel at ease, well, as close to ease as he ever got. She was fidgeting with her clothes and he wondered why she was dressed like a boy. Through her shirt, he could make out some form of underwear and he quickly moved his gaze to the floor.

Buffy watched him as he looked her over. On seeing her shirt was damp, he looked away and she couldn’t help but smile inside at how different to Spike he really was. Somehow though, she felt better now, less alone in the world knowing that Spike was here in some small way. She couldn’t wait to get back so she could tease him.

“I’m sorry, miss, but I can’t help you.” William stood up and looked down at her. She looked crushed and he could see her struggling within herself.

As he joined a group near the stairs, he turned back to look at her.

She was cradling her head in her hands.

Taking a deep steadying breath, she looked up at him. He was flitting about a group of young men and women, trying to talk to them but they seemed to be ignoring him. Buffy shook her head and felt cold inside. Closing her eyes, she wished her Spike was here.

William watched her as she pushed through the crowd and up the stairs. He felt a pang of guilt in his stomach as a dark haired lady laughed. He looked back at her and tried to shut out the feeling as it niggled away at him.

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