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Chapter 77 Remembering the past

AN* This chapter will deal with the trauma of Spike remembering things he would rather forget. There may be some surprises in this chapter that many will not like, nor wish to be reminded of. I’m sorry if it offends anyone, but I have to write as my muse guides me.

If you wish to flame me for this chapter, then so be it. I have written of some of the best things about the time period in which the story is set, and I have written of the worst things. In this chapter, it will be the worst.

You have been warned………


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The Annandale family had almost finished dinner, when a knock at the door announced the arrival of Hamish Johnstone. There was a perceptible excitement in the air of the small parlour, yet there was also an air of trepidation. The small man from the tenements of Edinburgh was their last hope.

Thomas had had the courtesy to keep some food behind for their guest. He was sure the man had eaten little, and he needed him to be on top form. William had hardly kept still long enough to eat his dinner, continually starting to rise and fall like the tides. Only the calming influence of Buffy had kept his son from leaving the room.

There had been no wine with dinner. Thomas was convinced that all would need a clear head for the forthcoming event. The novelty of drinking tea with their food, rather than at the end of the meal, had been a topic of conversation for most of the repast.

No one talked of the night ahead.

When they heard the knock on the parlour door announcing the arrival of Johnstone, all jumped slightly. The tension within all was starting to build to fever pitch as their salvation was led into the room. Thomas rose immediately from his chair, offering it to Johnstone. He bid him eat his fill before they began.

Thomas admired the man’s pride. He knew the man was living on the starvation line, yet Johnstone ate his meal with dignity. Slowly he cleared his plate, drinking copious amounts of tea to wash it down.

Finally, Johnstone appeared to have finished. He sat back in his chair and surveyed the people in the room. For the first time, Thomas noticed the intensity in the man’s eyes, and was impressed by his confidence. Hamish Johnstone may be poor, but he was not intimidated by the wealth surrounding him.

“Hamish,” Thomas spoke into the quiet room. “We have asked you here to perform two feats of mesmerism. I would like you to mesmerise me to validate you skill, then I would like you to mesmerise my son.” As he spoke, he nodded his head towards William. “I want you to tell me exactly what you would like us to do, and we will do it. Whatever you require, we will ensure you have it.” Looking intently at Johnstone, Thomas continued. “You are our last hope, Hamish. My family needs you.”

Hamish Johnstone had never been begged for anything in his life, nor had he ever been in the company of a Duke. Annandale had impressed him with his sincerity, and should the man renege on his promise to keep him for life, he would still give the man credit. The Duke treated him as an equal, Hamish would never forget that.

However he did have a family to feed, and should the Duke not make good his promise, he needed some money now. “The only thing I require, your Grace, is the twenty pounds you promised me.”

Annandale smiled at Hamish, and pulled a roll of soft from his waistcoat. With great care, he counted the notes as he laid them in Johnstone’s hand. He had seen an example of the man’s handwriting, and he doubted if he could count. Determined that the man not feel cheated, he asked if he was satisfied with the amount before they began.

Hamish pocketed the notes carefully in his coat. There was enough money there to feed and clothe his family for almost a year. Pleased that the Duke had delivered on his promise, he smiled at him. “Thank you, your Grace. The money will be most welcome.”

“How would you like to begin, Hamish?” Thomas asked, impatient for this to be over.

Looking around at the assembled group, Hamish gave out his instructions. “I need the family to site behind me, your Grace. If they do not, then they too may go under. You and I will sit opposite each other, and I need you to clear your mind as best you can. Once you are ready, you must look only at me and listen to only my voice.”

Thomas did not need to speak. Anxious that the mesmerism take place quickly, the family moved their chairs behind Hamish. When they were seated comfortably, Hamish rose and extinguished all the candles bar one. This he carried to his seat and held it in his hand. When he saw the Duke visibly relax, he knew it was time to begin.

“Thomas,” he began in a soft lilting voice. “I want you to look deeply into my eyes, and hold my gaze. You must listen only to my voice, and do whatever I ask. You must trust me enough to place your fate in my hands. Fear not, your Grace, I will not let you fall.”

Annandale did as he was bid. Within a minute he felt a swirling sensation in his head, and felt the pull of Hamish’s power. Softly the man spoke to him, the words he could not comprehend. He was no longer listening, transfixed by the eyes holding his. Within a few minutes his eyes closed, and his head fell to his chest.

Hamish turned to the assembled group and smiled. “His Grace is now in a mesmerised state. What would you like him to do?”

Joyce and Buffy stared at the man in awe. William could not take his eyes from his father’s face, gently spoke to him. “Father, can you hear me?” he asked.

Smiling at William, Hamish explained why his father did not answer him. “While he is like this, my Lord, he will only do my bidding. If you wish a further demonstration of my power over him, then ask me to bid him do something.”

Buffy was the first to speak. “Hamish, if we manage to get a raw onion, do you think you could get his Grace to eat it like an apple?”

Turning in his chair to look at her, he nodded as he replied. “I have done that before, my Lady, but it is better with a lemon. I doubt we will find one at such short notice, but the kitchens here will surely have an onion.”

Joyce was already on her feet to pull at the bell. She did not care that the hotel think she made a strange request; they were paid enough to service their guests. It took over twenty minutes for a servant to return with an onion and a lemon, and an audible sigh of relief went around the room.

Taking them from the servant at the door, Joyce returned to Hamish and placed them in his hands. Annandale had not moved from his position on the chair, and William had hardly taken his eyes from his father. He could not believe how still his father sat, nor the look of peace on his face.

Hamish, turning back to the Duke, placed the onion in his hand. Whispering words that only Annandale could hear, the family stared in wonder as he started to eat. Joyce, William and Buffy watched in fascination as Annandale bit into the onion as if it were the sweetest fruit. He munched and smiled at them, occasionally commenting that he had never tasted an apple so fresh. Swallowing happily, skin and all, he asked for another.

The smell of onion permeated the room. It was strong enough to make them almost gag, yet none could take their eyes from the Duke. When Hamish handed him the lemon to eat, all scrunched their faces in disgust. Annandale did not flinch as he happily devoured the lemon.

William could not help but comment. “My father hates the taste of lemon, Hamish. He swears it make him sick. Our cook complains often that the fish she cooks does not taste as it should thanks to the Duke’s aversion. If I did not see this with my own eyes, I would not believe it.”

Hamish smiled happily at William. He had earned his twenty pounds very simply. Not bad for a few minutes work. “I will bring the Duke back to us now, my Lord.”

“Wait,” Joyce cried. “Should we not pour a glass of brandy to remove the taste?”

“No need your Grace,” replied Hamish with a smile. “He believes he has eaten two apples and that is what he will remember. There will be no taste of onion or lemon in his head, trust me on this.”

If what he said was true, then this would be the ultimate test. To not remember the flavour of a hated fruit and a strong onion would certainly prove the man’s skill. Whispering softly in Thomas’ ear, the Duke slowly shook his head. Smiling at Joyce, he asked when they would begin.

Three pairs of eyes stared at him in shock. He truly did not remember what Hamish had done. All three watched him lick his lips and small frown appear between his eyes. “I swear I can taste apples, though it is a bit early in the year for them.”

Joyce could keep silent no longer. Hamish had proved that he had the skill to help William. “Thomas,” she cried, tears running down her cheeks. “Hamish has had you mesmerised for almost thirty minutes. Are you sure you remember nothing?”

Thomas’ eyes flew to the clock on the mantel. He felt refreshed and alert, yet he could see that he had lost time. The hands of the clock had most certainly moved forward, yet he could remember nothing. As the truth dawned, he felt slightly disoriented. How many times had that black bitch done this to his son, and laughed while he was under her spell. What acts had she committed on him while he could not fight back?

For the first time since they had decided to put this plan in motion, he felt unease. How would William react when he remembered the things Drusilla had done? He had to talk to Hamish alone.

“I wish to talk to Hamish alone, Joyce.” He spoke, keeping his voice low. “I need to explain what we wish him to do.”

Nodding her agreement at his words, she rose and bid William and Buffy to follow her to her bed chamber. Thomas and Hamish would be able to converse in peace. As the family left, Thomas rose and poured himself a brandy. He did not offer to pour one for Hamish, the man would need all his wits to handle his son.

Swirling the amber liquid around the glass, he stared down at the swirling patterns it made in the glass. This conversation was going to be one of the hardest he had ever done, but he needed Hamish to be clear on what he had to do.

“I have to thank you Hamish for what you have done so far.” Taking a long sip of brandy before he continued, Thomas finally lifted his head and looked Johnstone in the eye.

Slowly and succinctly he told his tale. He told Hamish of the life his son led for over ten years of his life, and his slavish devotion to an evil bitch who had controlled him with mesmerism. He explained how she had planted things in his head which they had to eradicate before any more damage was done. The subject of Angelus and how his son could see no wrong in the man was painful to relate, yet relate it he must. All the evil deeds that could be placed at Lord Angelus’ door, Thomas relayed to Hamish. He finished his tale with the conviction that Angelus had something to do with the death of the Duke of Craven and others recently. Holding nothing back, he spoke of his fears for his family.

Hamish had said nothing while the Duke had told his tale. This woman of whom he spoke, must have powers greater than his, and he felt he had to warn the Duke of what would happen to his son.

Leaning forward in his chair, Hamish took the Duke’s hands in his. Looking down at their clasped hands, Thomas had never felt such a bond with another man before. Although they were at the opposite ends of the social scale, Thomas felt he had found a friend.

“I have to speak honestly with you, Thomas.” Hamish whispered, yet his voice loud in the empty room. “I am not sure I can do what you want of me.” When Thomas tried to remove his hands from his grip, Hamish refused to let him go. “This woman you speak of has a great gift. To keep your son under her control for so long, means that she never truly let him come back. She would have used many tricks to put him under, some as simple as the click of her fingers, and he would be asleep. When he was under she could whatever she wished with him and from what you say, probably did.”

Hamish took a deep breath before he continued. What he had to say may not please the Duke, but the man had to be warned. “You cannot be mesmerised unless you allow it to happen. If your will is strong then you can fight it. When I do this in the circus, the people who volunteer are desperate to know the feeling of being under someone’s control.”

Taking a long look at the pain in the Duke’s eyes, Hamish sighed and carried on.

“We have to hope that your son wants to come back, Thomas. Because I did not put him under, I do not know what memories to suppress. I think I can bring him out, but he may be a broken man. We can but guess what the woman made him do. If the memories are too much, then we may need to restrain him. If she is as evil as you say, then he could have been made to commit murder and not have known it.”

Taking a tighter hold of the Duke’s hands, Hamish continued.

“I have to ask you this, Thomas. Are you willing to do that to your son? Are you willing to let him remember ten years of God knows what to cure him? I will not be held responsible for the man I bring back, Thomas. Are we clear on this?”

Annandale continued to clasp Hamish’s hands as he contemplated his words. A lot of things made sense now that he knew how mesmerism worked. The bitch had had him at her beck and call for years without his knowledge or consent. He now understood why his son had fallen deeply in love with Buffy in so short a time.

William had not loved Drusilla, he had let himself be convinced he did.

Slowly, Annandale nodded his head but his eyes never left their still clasped hands.

“My son is already in torment, Hamish, thanks to that black-hearted cow. He realises that she did something to him to make him forget, and it hurts to watch him try to remember. My only hope is that when you bring him back, he will still love his wife they way he does now. She has been the making of him, Hamish, and will continue to love him no matter what he becomes tonight. Buffy understands that he needs help, and is willing to make any sacrifice she needs to in order to help him.”

Gently, Hamish removed his hands from the Duke’s grasp. “Then ask him to come back, Thomas, and we will see what can be done.”

As the Duke rose from his chair, he looked down at Hamish and smiled. “I think we better ask the ladies to join us too. With any luck, Buffy will be able to calm him down should it be needed.”

Hamish nodded his head in agreement, determined to put William under for a time while he explained to his wife what she was about to face.

Within moments, the family returned to the parlour. It was still lit by only one candle and shadows played across the room. Buffy’s face was pale in the poor light. She had a feeling this would not go well.

Seating William in his father’s chair, Hamish started to put him under. Within seconds he was in a mesmeric sleep, and Hamish knew this Drusilla had picked her victim well. Some people took longer than other to mesmerise, William had been the quickest subject he had ever known.

Once William’s chin lay on his chest, Hamish turned his attention to the ladies. Slowly and carefully he repeated the warnings he had given the Duke.

Buffy paled even further, she could not help but voice some of her fears.

“Will he still love me when you bring him out, Hamish? What if Drusilla put the idea into his head that he must love me and when you wake him up he will no longer care?”

Tears stung her eyes as she continued. “I love him with all my heart, Hamish, I cannot lose him.”

As he had done to Annandale, Hamish clasped her hands in his. “Nay, lass, do not fret yourself now. The Duke has told me how your William stood up to her in front of three hundred people and publicly chose you over her. His love is real, my dear, you have to believe that.”

Buffy lifted tear-filled eyes to his. “But what if he resents me for doing this to him? Maybe it would be best if we left him without his memories.” Her voice rose higher as her agitation grew. “We will fight Angelus without him, Hamish. I do not want him to remember things that should stay forgotten.”

Annandale’s heart bled at the pleading in her voice. He could plainly understand her reasoning, but until William understood the threat Angelus posed to them all, he would never be free.

They had to continue.

“Buffy,” he gently whispered as he placed a hand over Hamish and Buffy’s clasped fingers. “We need to set him free. He needs to find his own soul, not the one planted in him by Drusilla. Do you understand me, Buffy, we have to set him free.”

Turning her head in his direction at his words, Buffy let out a stifled sob. She looked at each person in the room and saw the truth in Annandale’s words. No matter what the consequences, they had to do this. Slowly she nodded her head and withdrew her hands from Hamish.

“Please continue, Hamish. I will not leave his side.”

Nodding his head, Hamish turned in his chair and started to whisper in William’s ear.

Buffy, Joyce and Thomas did their best to distinguish his words, but he spoke too softly for them to hear. They watched William carefully for any signs of distress. Up to now, he had but occasionally twitched and grimaced. The faces of the family fell as they noticed tears streak down his cheeks.

Horrified, the family watched William’s agitation grow. He was rocking backwards and forwards on the chair, and Thomas had to hold Buffy back from going to him. When he started to wail like an animal in pain, Buffy burst into tears. Joyce soon followed, upset at her daughter’s distress. Annandale could feel the tears come to his own eyes at the sight of his son, and all his instincts told him to stop Hamish now; but he knew he had to let him continue.

No matter what state his son’s mind was in at the end of this night, they had to continue.

On and on William’s torment increased. He was still rocking, but now he was hitting his own head as if to dispel the memories he now had. His constant cries of “NO, NO” resounded in the room, yet still Hamish whispered softly to him.

It was over an hour before Hamish stopped his whispering and sat back in his chair. William had quieted now, but was still sobbing quietly. Every heart in the room broke as they watched his torment play across his face. All prayed that he would recover from this.

While William was quiet, Hamish turned in his seat to speak to the family.

“I am going to wake him up now, Thomas. Be prepared for what you might see. I have done my best, but I am not sure it will be good enough. Only the woman who did this to him can truly help him forget what she has done to him. But from what you say that will never happen. I have brought suppressed memories to the front of his mind, Thomas, it will be up to you and your family to forgive him, and help him forgive himself.”

Thomas stared at Hamish for a long time. How could a man with so little education have the wisdom of an Oxford Don. He would remember this man for the rest of his life, and would make good on his promise to bring the man and his family to Annandale.

“Do what you must, Hamish. We will endeavour to do the rest.”

Nodding, Hamish turned back towards William and slowly drew him back into their world.

Opening his eyes, William stared in horror at the sight of his beautiful wife crying as if her heart would break. He wondered if she knew of the things he had done in the last ten years, and if she hated him for it. Surely she could no longer love him now that she knew the monster in the man.

Memories of deeds long done ran through his mind. The faces of the innocents he had killed to appease Drusilla’s lust for blood swam before his eyes like a never-ending montage. Men, women and children he had put to the sword for her pleasure and he had laughed as she bathed in their blood.

They had fucked in the blood of his victims too many times to count.

Visions of the men who had fucked him, etched themselves on his mind. He had let Drusilla pose him for the delight of her games, and he had happily let her. Men he knew well through the membership of the London club’s, had used him like a whore. Some had taken him two at a time, while she had laughed and danced naked round the room.

The rapes were the worst to remember, and would be the hardest to forget. Women and girls of all ages had been tied to her bed while he fucked away their virginity. She would force them to suck him while she whipped their backs till they bled.

He had laughed with her as he killed them once they had been used.

Too many to count. Too many to count.

The mantra played in his head as the memories assailed him.

Finally thoughts of Angelus pushed all other thoughts away. He remembered how many times the man had used him, and the number of times he had been told to forget. Evil words ran through his brain recalling the things Angelus had said to him as he used his arse like a pussy. He suddenly realised that he had never stayed away when Angelus was home. They had brought him into their play, then Drusilla had made him forget.

He could not be here. He could not stay in the same room as the people he loved knowing what he had been and what he was capable of. They would never forgive him his deeds, and he had to get away.

Panic rose in his breast. Would his family turn him over to the watch to hang for his crimes? After all, he was the one who knew where the bodies were buried, or at least some of them. Most had been thrown into the Thames for the fishermen to find.

Rising quickly from his chair, he moved swiftly to the door. The only thought to get through his jumbled memories, was that he needed to escape. Before they hanged him from the nearest gibbet, he needed to escape.

Thomas made it to the door before his son could pass through. He stood with his back pressed against the door, determined not to let him leave. None of them knew what had passed though his mind in the last few minutes, but it had to be too terrible to share with them.

Buffy was crying openly, and deep down she knew she had lost him. Whatever Hamish had unleashed could never be hidden again, and her Spike would have to remember those things for the rest of his life. She could not imagine what horrors he had in his head, but she knew him well enough to know he was in pain.

Joyce stood regally from her chair and walked towards the stricken man. Standing behind him, she laid her hands on his shoulders and gently pulled him around to face her. Without saying a word, she pulled him into her arms and hugged him tightly to her breast as she would any of her children when they were hurt like this.

William clung to Joyce like a lifeline. He squeezed her tightly, crying like a toddler on her shoulder. His whole body wracked with tears, and it took some time to quieten him. Twenty minutes later his crying had softened to hiccups, yet he would not let her go. Her quiet acceptance of him became his lifeline and solace from the pain of remembrance, and he needed to hold her tight.

Hamish had sat still in his chair, neither moving nor commenting on the anguish rolling around the room. The young man’s memories must be painful indeed to illicit this type of reaction. Maybe now that William remembered, he might be able to help him. He was not sure if he could, but he was willing to try.

“Your Grace,” he spoke loudly enough to gain Thomas’ attention. “We need to talk, your Grace, before your son loses his mind completely.”

Seeing that his son was happy to be held by Joyce, Thomas moved away from the door to sit opposite Hamish. The pain on the Duke’s face was sad to witness, and Hamish hoped he could help him.

“Now that we are sure he remembers, Thomas, I would like to try and make him forget most of it.” Glancing quickly at Buffy before he continued, he noticed the tears running down her lovely face. “Although you son has not yet spoken, I believe that some of the memories are too harsh to bear. Whatever Drusilla did to him, his brain cannot process and he will lose everything if we do not try to fix him.”

Thomas pondered Hamish’s words, and could see the truth in them. Before he allowed Hamish to try and remove his son’s torment, he wanted to talk to William. He needed to know just what his son remembered.

“I would like to talk to William alone first, Hamish. Do you have any objection to that?”

Hamish studied the Duke intently before he replied. “I believe that would be a good idea, Thomas. We have to find out what to suppress and what he needs to remember.” Hamish glanced at the still sobbing William, clutching tightly to the Duchess of Craven. “Do not judge him, Thomas. He did not know what actions he took till now. He was never supposed to remember the things he had done, his mistress made sure of that.”

Thomas nodded his head and rose from his chair. Walking over to his son, he gently removed him from Joyce’s arms and led him from the room. Holding his arm, he brought him into a bed chamber and gently sat him on the bed. Pulling the only chair in the room towards the bed, he sat down ready to talk to his son.

The conversation took over an hour. William, through sobs and tears, relayed all the things he had done under Drusilla’s control. He held nothing back, not even how he had been used like a whore. It had been hard to look his father in the eye as he told his tale, but he had to make Thomas understand.

Speaking not a word until William had finished, Thomas could not stop the tears from rolling down his face. He would kill the bitch the first chance he had. If he hung for it, he did not care. The bitch was going to die.

“William,” he gently spoke to his son. “Hamish would like to take the memories away now. I asked you here to find out what we needed to lose and what needed to remain.” Rising from the chair, Thomas started to pace the room. “I do not think you need to remember anything, William. I don’t care what you remember of Angelus, as Buffy said earlier this evening we will fight him without you.” Turning back to his son, he seated himself back in the chair. “You cannot live with these deaths on your conscience, son. You did not know you were doing them and I can’t see you live in pain.”

Smiling a watery smile at his father, William nodded. “Do you think he can take them away, father?”

He sounded so much like a small frightened child that Thomas had to hold his tears at bay. “All we can do is try William, and hope Hamish can take away your pain. You and Buffy deserve a life without your past deeds coming back to haunt you, and he is the best I can offer to make that happen.”

William nodded his head, seeing the wisdom in his father’s words. “Let’s go back now, father, and see what he can do.”

When they returned to the small sitting room, both men noticed that Hamish was entertaining Joyce and Buffy with tales of his exploits. He was explaining some of the things he had made people do when under his spell, and both women were laughing with him. When the men finally caught the attention of their women, the laughter abruptly stopped.

Stepping forward towards Buffy, William lifted his arms. She ran to him immediately, holding him tightly to her. Not caring that there were others in the room, she reined small kisses all over his face until she finally found his mouth. Their lips fused as if they would never let each other go. On and on the kiss went until finally they drifted apart.

“I love you, Spike.” Buffy whispered against his lips.

“I love you too, Buffy, more than you will ever know.” And with their love voiced between them, William seated himself in the chair opposite Hamish.

“Hamish,” he smiled at the little man. “Take away all my memories except those of Angelus if you can.”

Hamish wondered that he wanted to keep the Angelus memories, and asked him why.

“For one reason, Hamish, I will need those memories to keep the hate alive I now have for the man. I need to remember why I want to kill him.”

The statement hung heavily in the air as Hamish began his work.

After an hour of working with William, Hamish declared himself complete. William came gently back into the room, and smiled happily at his wife. He made no mention of Angelus or the pain he had lately felt, and the family were glad that Hamish had managed to remove the pain from his heart.

While Hamish waited on the Duke’s carriage to take him home, he eyed the young Lord thoughtfully. Although he had tried to remove the memories from his mind, he had his doubts that it had worked. If he had been successful then all was well, if he had not then the young man may never fully recover. Hamish thought that William was putting on a show of bravado to not frighten his family, but it was not so easy to fool him

Hamish hoped never to meet this Lord Angelus of whom they spoke.

He hoped William never met him either, as he was sure the young Lord would kill him.

##

The following morning a much happier family started the journey back to Annandale. The roads were good and the weather dry. If they made good time they would be home by Saturday.

If luck was with them, they would be home in time for the fair.





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