Chapter IX
At Giles’ apartment
Still not fully awake after taking an afternoon nap, Giles walked down the stairs of his apartment and almost had a heart attack when he realized that he wasn’t alone.
“Well, well, it seems not only we vampires sleep durin’ the day,” Spike commented after noticing the drowsy expression the Watcher wore, while he sat comfortably on the armchair that had been his bed up until a few days before.
“Huh? Spike... how—” Giles attempted to ask, but he was hindered by a big yawn.
“It’s sunset. You didn’t revoke the invite. And you also left a window open,” Spike explained patiently, pointing at the window in question. “So, what, do you need more clues to decipher what happened?” he added, in a teasing tone that pissed the Watcher off.
“What the hell do you want, Spike?” he snapped, wide awake by then.
“A cup of tea won’t do it for me this time, Rupert. ’m here to collect my hard-earned money and you should know better. We have a deal, remember?”
“Unfortunately I do.” He rolled his eyes. “But first tell me, how was patrol last night? Did you meet any of those Frakor demons again?”
“The Slayer didn’t tell you anythin’ yet then?”
“Please, don’t even start with that. Not now. She was supposed to bring me the letters this morning and she didn’t come or even call to apologize. I fell asleep waiting for her, for Chrissakes! I swear I don’t know what to do with her anymore, I can only imagine what’s on her mind to turn her into such an irresponsible girl,” the man grumbled. ‘Not that she’s been that responsible before anyway,’ he added to himself, but he was curious over the letters and the whole desk issue and the fact that his Slayer had been even more distracted as of late than as per usual.
‘Oh, maybe I know what she’s think—Wait a minute...’ Spike’s smug smile quickly turned into a confused frown when he recalled something Giles had mentioned before.
“Huh? Letters? What letters are you talkin’ about?”
“It’s sort of a long story, but the essential part is that she got an antique desk from her mother’s gallery and it seems that she has been able to exchange letters with a man from the past through it... anyway, that’s none of your business! And now tell me about last night’s patrol or you won’t get paid.”
Spike made a mental note about finding more about that desk, it sounded awfully suspicious to him. Maybe Joyce could help him with that. He didn’t like the idea of Buffy…er, the Slayer, exchanging love letters—because he had the odd certainty that they weren’t of any other kind—with a perfect stranger.
“Uh, right. Well, there weren’t any bloody Frakors or any other kind of demons around; matter of fact, there was not one single demon in sight last night.”
“So, you did nothing...”
“Quite the contrary! Let’s say that I took advantage of the quiet night to make your Slayer realize that things weren’t as quiet and calm as they seemed... to help her improve her reflexes, you know?” he justified, thinking about his joke.
“Well, I guess that’s a good move, her reflexes do need some training.” Giles nodded in agreement.
If just a couple of years ago someone had told him that one day Spike, Master Vampire, feared Slayer of two Slayers, would be discussing with him of strategies to improve the abilities of his Slayer, he would have laughed in that person ‘s face, but now... oh God, he could believe that anything was possible now!
“Yes, and I... well, I also tested how she reacts to... er... unexpected situations. And I really liked how she reacts, too.” He sneered, very pleased with himself at the memory. “You know what? I actually liked it so much that, on second thought, I won’t take your money this time. It’s on the house. See you ‘round, Rupert!” Spike said, remembering that he had a much more important appointment that evening, so he left the apartment, leaving a very confused Giles wondering what the hell had that been about.
* ~ * ~ *
Later at the Gallery
“Oh, good, you’re finally here. I was starting to think Buffy had lied to me and hadn’t told you to meet me here,” Joyce said as soon as she saw Spike come into the gallery.
“No, she did tell me; I’m sorry if ’m a bit late,” he apologized, lowering his head bashfully.
“Well, don’t worry, you’re here now. Come with me, I have some pretty things to show you.” She led him into another room.
“You do realize that just ‘cause of the fact that they’re pretty, I will never ever like that stuff?”
“Believe me, Macho-Man, once you see what I have to show you, I bet you’ll more than like them!” she answered, with a knowing smirk.
And true enough, after just twenty minutes, the very ‘macho’ vampire was enumerating all the ways in which he could arrange his crypt with all the pretty furniture that Joyce had very patiently showed him, while she listened to him with a big smile of victory in her face that he was too engrossed to see.
“This armchair is at least ten times better than the one I have now and will fit perfectly inside the crypt. And that small table over there could be pretty useful, too, I could put it near the armchair so I can put my blood over it while I watch TV,” Spike commented with a pleased smile, but then he frowned when he noticed the disgusted face that Joyce had made after his last sentence. “Oh, I’m sorry, that was a little too much information for you, wasn’t it?” he said with a sheepish grin.
“Yes, dear, and I’d very much prefer if you don’t share that kind of information with me. I know you’re a vampire, but there’s no need to remind me like that, okay?” She smiled to Spike as he nodded. If it weren’t for the vampire’s off-handed comments every once in a while, she could almost forget what he truly was whenever they talked. Then again, who could blame her for wanting to imagine that her hopefully-very-soon daughter’s boyfriend was as normal as he could be? “Anyway, I think even with your vampiric strength it could be a problem to take all this furniture back home.”
“Yes, it’s quite a lot, but I can manage, little bit by little bit.”
“What if I send some of my employees with the furniture to your cemetery tomorrow around sunset, hmm?” she suggested. “You could meet them at the gate and guide them to your crypt and they could even help you put everything in place.”
“Oh, that’s a brilliant idea. But won’t your employees be a little bit puzzled when you send them to a cemetery?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. My employees do whatever I ask them to do without any questions.”
“Alright then. Well, I have no words to thank you, Joyce. You’ve always treated me like I’m a person and not just a monster.” His eyes gleamed with gratitude and more than just a hint of adoration.
“That’s because you are a person, darling, it’s just that sometimes you wear yellow eyes and sharper teeth, that’s all.” She smiled at him.
“Joyce, you know it’s at times like this when you remind me most of my mum.” He smiled adoringly at her.
“I know, honey. Plus, I give you furniture for free and I make the best hot chocolate with little marshmallows in Sunnydale and its vicinities. So, wouldn’t that also made me the perfect mother-in-law?” She smirked, mentally crossing her fingers hoping he would take the bait.
“Yes, you would definitely be... Hey. Wait a minute… WHAT? Calm down, what the bloody hell are you blathering about?”
“Watch your language, William!” Joyce scolded him.
“Uh, right. ’m sorry, ma’am. Anyway, I don’t know what Buffy told you, but you’re unquestionably getting the wrong idea here. Okay, so Buffy and I kissed, but that doesn’t mean any—”
“OH MY GOD! You two kissed!” the woman squealed in delight.
Spike’s eyes almost bulged out as his face morphed into a terrified expression. “Weren’t you—” He cleared his throat, not sure how he’d gotten into this mess. “Didn’t she tell you about that?”
“She sort of did, but she made it seem like it was just a joke. The little liar... so, there was some truth in that then,” Joyce mumbled almost to herself as a big, satisfied smile bloomed in her lips.
‘Right. So now the Slayer will have one more reason to kill me,’ the vampire thought and immediately after he looked down at his crotch in a threatening way. ‘And don’t even dare find that exciting!’ he scolded himself, or rather a certain part of his anatomy, and then he turned his attention back to Joyce.
“Please, stop that, I know that smile. You shouldn’t be happy about that. ’m Buffy’s mortal enemy!”
“Mortal enemies don’t kiss each other!” she answered, her smile never wavering.
‘Touché!’ he observed silently, rolling his eyes to himself.
“I knew that sooner or later you would end up together. And to know that Buffy is with you assures me that she’s safe...”
“Argh! No, take that back, take that back! You’re killin’ me here!” he answered, deeply disappointed that Joyce seemed to have such a high opinion of him. Had she forgotten that he was evil? E. V. I. L. As in someone that couldn’t be trusted, let alone considered as perfect boyfriend material for the Slayer. “Once and for all, I’m not the knight in shinin’ armor you seem to think I am. I’m not the kind of guy mothers desire to see their daughters datin’. You know, back on the good old times, whenever I ‘dated’ a girl, her mother would see them come back a few days later... in pieces...” He interrupted himself when he noticed Joyce’s raised eyebrow. “Okay, you caught me, so I usually disposed of them as quickly and as painlessly as I could, the ‘sendin’ them back in pieces’ was more Angelus’ style. But that doesn’t mean anythin’, I’m still evil!”
“But don’t you see, dear? Despite your evil nature, you didn’t drag on your victims’ suffering unnecessarily or torture them, even if you had the means to do it, you chose not to. And added to all that, it seems you just provided me with one more reason to dislike Angel, not that I needed it or anything, he’d done a pretty good job of that all by himself,” Joyce explained, with a wink.
“And it seems I have one more reason to adore you, Joyce!” Spike grinned at her. “But that doesn’t mean that I adore your daughter, too, quite the contrary!” he rushed to add.
“I think you do, you just haven’t realized it yet or if you have, you just haven’t accepted it,” Joyce said. “Anyway, I do have another reason why I’d like you two to be together.” She smiled inwardly when she noticed that Spike didn’t voice his objection this time, curiosity coming off the vampire on waves. “I think that will help to take Buffy’s mind off from that mysterious man from the past.”
“You’re talkin’ about the one she’s been exchangin’ letters with, aren’t you?”
“How do you know about that?”
“Well, Rupert told me somethin’ about that, but not everythin’. And now I’d really like to hear all you know about this mysterious man.”
“How about this? I’ll tell you all I know about him, if first you tell me what happened last night in patrol. And no jokes!”
“Deal, I’ll tell you what happened, but you must promise you won’t ask me no further questions about this after I finish.”
“Deal.”
And so, they began exchanging their precious information.
* ~ * ~ *
A little while later
“... and then she ran away, as if nothin’ had happened between us. And that’s fine with me, ‘cause no matter what it was that made us kiss, I can absolutely assure you that it won’t happen again,” he finished, with what he hoped had been certainty lacing his voice, even when he was the first one who doubted his own words.
‘Especially when I still feel her soft and sweet lips glidin’ over mine, when I still can taste her kisses, when I can recall how eagerly and passionately she responded to my caresses, how her lower lip felt as I nibbled on it, so bitable and… oh, bloody hell, you’re definitely not helpin’ yourself here, mate!’ Spike admonished himself, he had to stop with this train of thought now if he wanted Joyce to actually believe in anything he’d been saying and judging by the disbelieving looks she was throwing him, she wasn’t buying his ‘it won’t happen again’ speech. Time to change gears and distract the attention from himself or else he’d find himself in a deeper mess than he was already in.
“Well, ’m done. Now it’s your turn,” he exhorted her, hoping she wouldn’t back out from her promise of not asking any more questions.
“All right.” She took a big breath, shifting in her seat. “It started about a week ago, Buffy was helping me unload some boxes here at the gallery and when we came into one of the rooms she saw an antique desk and begged me to give it to her. She was very convincing too, so I agreed to give it to her. It turned out that the desk had a secret panel with two drawers on it and in one of them she found an envelope with a letter inside, supposedly written in 1880 by the desk’s former owner, an Englishman called William...er, something, sorry, I don’t seem to recall what his last name is.” Joyce shrugged.
“Don’t worry, I don’t think I want to know anyway,” Spike answered a little too evenly, his knuckles whitened by the strength with which he was holding the chair he occupied. How dare the little twerp have the same name that he had? Not that he cared, nope, not a bit.
“So, Buffy found a poem along with the letter in the secret drawer ...” Joyce continued.
At the word ‘poem’ Spike jolted, tuning Joyce out for a minute. ‘It couldn’t be, could it? Nah, that’d be too much of a coincidence,’ he thought, reminding himself that there must have been at least hundreds of William’s throughout the years that had entertained the idea of being poets and anyway, wouldn’t he remember it if he’d been the same William? No one could forget something like that, now could they?
‘No, they couldn’t,’ he answered to himself, already hating this mysterious William guy more than he’d ever thought possible for stealing Buffy’s attention away from him.
“She was so mesmerized by the romanticism of the letter and the poem, that she had the crazy idea to respond to it, not that she thought he would actually get it, she just was so moved by his words that she couldn’t help herself.”
‘Bloody lucky guy he is, at least there are some poets whose work is appreciated by someone,’ Spike thought morosely, grieving a little bit at the thought that his work had never been appreciated like that.
Joyce noticed his immediate change of mood. “Are you okay?” she asked him, concerned.
“Huh? Yes, it’s nothin’ important, please, go on.” He shrugged, trying to act nonchalantly as he reined in the feelings of jealousy and self-doubt that were growing within him with each word Joyce uttered.
“So, she put the letter in the same drawer where she had found his... and then the most astonishing thing happened, when she decided to retrieve her letter and destroy it, she found another letter, this time addressed to her! So, she answered and again she found another letter waiting for her the next day. It seems that the drawer is some sort of time machine that has allowed them to communicate through time, but I’m not completely sure if it’s a good thing. That’s why I told Buffy that she should tell Rupert about the desk and the letters, I think this whole thing should be investigated carefully.”
“Why? Do you think that there might be a demon behind all this stuff?”
“Who knows? It could be anything. Anyway, William seems like a nice man... but I don’t know, there’s something about all this that I don’t like, I just can’t trust him or whatever is happening,” Joyce admitted.
“You know what? I don’t trust him either, so I think I’d better keep an eye on Buffy...” Spike commented, arousing Joyce’s hope. “Mostly because Rupert pays me for it, it’s not that I care!” he added immediately after, not fooling Joyce for even a second. “So, where is she now? At her dorm?” he asked.
“She’s home. Since she got that desk she hardly leaves her room,” Joyce informed him.
“Uhmm... good to know...” he mumbled through gritted teeth. He’d have to investigate this matter further. It wouldn’t do that the Slayer got all interested in this William bloke, who knew what type of man he was? Not that he cared, not really or maybe just a bit? He just wanted to make sure that Rupert kept paying him for taking care of the Slayer, nothing to do with the fact that he was insanely jealous of a man that most likely was dead and buried by now.
* ~ * ~ *
London, 1880
William felt…perplexed. He’d been wandering about for hours, too distraught to even think of returning home. He wasn’t sure what was happening to him or why or even if he liked the person who he seemed to be turning into. Never before had he reacted towards anyone, especially a lady, like he’d done today with Cecily Addams... of all people.
Up until last week he’d been hopelessly in love with her. But now? Now there was Elizabeth, not that that provided him with any hope. The fact that some one hundred and odd years separated them meant there was no chance of them ever meeting face to face. But one hundred plus years had no bearing on the undeniable connection between them; a connection that he and Cecily… He snorted, than he ever dreamed of achieving with her. He’d always been little more than nothing to Cecily, just someone that she knew would drop at her feet and adore her if she so much as glanced his way.
Good Lord, but he’d been a fool. But never again, not ever, not even if there were no chance at all of him ever meeting Elizabeth. Bloody hell, he didn’t even know what she looked like. Didn't matter either. Somehow, in his heart, he knew that she could easily become—if she hadn’t already—the one person he could love more than life itself; the one person he’d bravely defy every law of science, of nature, of God even, for one chance to see her... just once. If only for a minute, a second... anything that he could get, he knew that if they could meet, she would complete him, make him a better man. He would willingly do anything and everything within his power, if only he knew what is was to bring about that turn of events.
Logically he knew that it should be impossible that any of this could actually happen, but then again, if anyone had told him a few days before that he’d be corresponding with a lady that hadn’t even been born yet, he probably would have thought that person needed to be committed and locked up in a mental hospital for life.
Nothing he’d experienced so far, could have ever prepared him for the bittersweet reality of knowing that there could be someone he could feel so strongly for, of knowing that this person might actually return his feelings and realizing that she was almost as unreachable as Cecily Addams had once been for him. Almost, because it wasn’t that Elizabeth didn’t care for him, she did, he knew it in his heart. It was just a matter of finding a way so they could be together and he wouldn’t rest until he found one. If a desk could be used to send letters back and forth in time, shouldn’t there be some way he could be sent into the future?
Odd, ever since he read Faust for the first time, he’d always wondered how Goethe’s could have come up with the notion of anyone wanting to sell their soul to the Devil in exchange of anything. Now he understood. He would do it in a heartbeat; live out eternal damnation in exchange for being sure that there was a way he could meet his Elizabeth.
He was so lost in thought that he never saw the woman he bumped into, not that he saw her much after he did. He muttered an, “Excuse me,” before continuing on his way. The woman noticed him however, and smiled as her beloved stars sang to her what the young man had been so preoccupied with.
tbc
[Reviews - 136]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 1897 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +
Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you to …., ash, Im_bloody_English, Amelia-Jane, Crystal Pegasus, slayercaro, cordykitten, Bridget and margaret, for reviewing. We hope we haven’t lost too many of you with the long wait between chapters, we’ll try to get better in the future. A very special thank you to Im_bloody_English for her big help with the William part, it made all the difference. :D