Spike sat quietly after everyone had left the room, the letter grasped in his hand, the sound of footsteps and heartbeats vanishing down the hallway towards the backdoor that led to the private garden.
Spike was still pondering the letter Septamus had given him. How had Louisa known to write to him? And how had they met at the Wheatmore’s ball? And what was with the selling of the London house anyway? And the large estate? The only reason he’d do that would be to… invest the money… the penny finally dropped and the morning dawned…of course, he and the girls must have timed it, set up the trust funds and gone to a ball, but why he’d go to one of those dreadful things willingly? He couldn’t work out that problem at all. It would take an act of God, or his girls nagging, to make him go to a ball ever again.
He looked up at the sound of the doorway opening and smiled as Buffy came quietly into the room. She walked slowly up to him, holding a cup of blood fresh from the butcher.
She leant over his shoulder, reading the letter as she did so. Buffy had to admit she was curious as to who was sending Spike letters and she really wanted to ask him about the Sir William bit. She looked at the script: very florid and fancy and she didn’t recognise the writing at all. It was all old fashioned and formal, and very hard to read for someone bought up with computers.
‘Who’s that from?’ she asked quietly, not wanting to disturb his thoughts.
‘Me Sister, Louisa, Mrs Strathmore,’ Spike answered in a very cultured English accent.
‘Eww,’ she joked. ‘You sound more watcher than the watchers round here.’ She would have said more like Giles but her heart and her tongue wouldn’t allow her to even mention that man’s name.
Spike laughed, he had unconsciously slipped into the accent he’d had when he was alive: he could feel her heart beating quickly and sniffed the air. She wasn’t aroused, well no more than usual; he wondered what had got her excited.
‘I have a huge favour to ask, Spike,’ Buffy started to say.
Ahh: so that’s what the fast heartbeat was about, she wanted to ask him something and she thought he was going to say no. Spike grinned to himself.
‘It’s Dawnie’s birthday next week and she wants to go to a proper ball, carriage there and everything. I’m sure we can manage it, can’t we? I have to check with Cordy that timing it is OK, then you can escort us to somewhere wonderful…’ Buffy managed to say the whole sentence without a single breath.
‘Yeah, like my Godmother’s ball,’ he answered without even thinking, still looking at the letter.
‘That sounds perfect! I’m off to find Cordy and a dress maker.’
It was only then that the words sank into his brain. ‘Wha’… no, Buffy!’ he shouted to her vanishing back. ‘Bollocks!’ he knew he was trapped. She had got her way, as always.
Cordelia Chase was babysitting again. Joyce and Anne had come over for a chat and the women were ploughing through all the designs that had been sent to Cordy for her approval.
‘I think this one would suit you beautifully,’ Anne said, holding out a longer styled dress. ‘It is most graceful and I understand that it is now permissible for a lady to show her ankles.’ The Lady Anne had been so daring as to lift her skirts a full two inches above her foot. She loved the freedom that young women were enjoying. Cordy had found the lady a gentle loving companion that had softened her own rough edges.
Cordy looked at the dress. Lady Anne had impeccable taste: the dress was lovely, and would suit her perfectly.
She didn’t, however, think much to the hats. They were a big, a huge NO.
A gentle murmuring cry from the other room disturbed her thoughts and both older ladies jumped up and went to check the source of the noise. Cordy smiled to herself. They loved that infant so much; even if he was denied his mother’s love for the time being, he certainly was adored by all that surrounded him.
She could hear Buffy calling for her through the ether and peeked into her spare room. The occupant of the crib was being hugged thoroughly, and she smiled again at the women as they told her to, ‘pop along and go to work dear, we’ll stay here with this precious mite.’
She could hear them good naturedly arguing about whose turn it was to hold the child as she vanished into the cloud that would lead her to The Slayer.
Cordy found Buffy in her bedroom, looking through pictures of Joyce from before the Hellmouth had opened, let alone been closed with the destruction of Sunnydale.
‘You still miss her.’ It was more of a statement than a question.
‘Yeah I do. There are times when I would say that I would give anything to have her back, but that’s not true. I wouldn’t give Spike up, or Dawnie, but it still hurts and it still feels that she was taken too soon.’
‘I think she was. She was supposed to survive the tumour, and to help you in your life, we are still trying to find out what went wrong. Giles screwed up so much, but we don’t have proof that this one was down to him, yet.’
‘What happened to Giles, I mean after he was dragged off.’ Buffy had to know. She kept hearing her old watcher’s screams as the demon had vanished with the two men in his grasp, they woke her every night and she had to admit that Spike was getting very good at soothing her back to sleep quickly. Who knew a vampire could purr?
‘Tartarus, the Greek Hell dimension, he will be tortured for all eternity, no relief and no mercy.’
‘I can’t find it in my heart yet to pity him, he hurt us all so much; and some of the girls, he raped them Cordy, he was supposed to protect them and he was their biggest danger.’
‘It’s often the way: we protect children from strangers, but it’s family that do the most damage. And those young girls were like family to you, but you did your best Buffy, you really couldn’t have done more for them. I should know,’ Cordy said quietly. ‘I have a message from your mother, Buffy, she loves you very much and is still trying to come to terms with the times she betrayed you.’
‘She never betrayed me!!’
‘Yes Buffy, yes she did and she knows it now, from telling you never to return if you leave when you went to save Giles and Angel; to putting you in that institution when you left LA. She regrets it all and is really, really sorry. She hopes that one day you will forgive her.’
‘I forgave a long time ago: she protected Spike, gave him someone to talk to, someone who believed in him. She was a normal woman thrown into the most horrid circumstances and she did her best.’
Cordy was glad that Buffy felt that way. The blond had matured so much in the last few years.
‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Yeah sure Cordy, but I’m not promising to answer,’ she replied with a grin.
‘Fair enough. Why haven’t you mated with Spike yet? I mean the guy is hot and he adores you; can’t understand why, but he does.’ Cordy’s grin gave lie to her words.
‘I want it to be perfect, not just something we do one night, I want it to be really special: flowers, candles, you know, no baby slayers bursting in and demanding we do something about the water pressure in the shower…’
Cordy laughed, a real laugh, from her soul. ‘I understand: a girl’s wedding day should be special.’
‘Wedding?’ Buffy gulped.
‘Well, yeah, duh, what do you think a claim is? It’s a marriage with no divorce, can’t change your mind after a century or so and hope the claim goes away. If you don’t renew the bond regularly it starts to hurt: it was used as a form of torture for vamps, keeping a claimed pair apart, the Council used it when studying them in the last century.’
‘Eww!’
‘Yes, well you think on it, you have to be sure, Buffy.’
‘What do I do, when, if, when we claim each other?’
‘You have to instigate it: you bite him hard, draw blood and then swallow some.’
‘Does it have to be the neck?’
‘No, some vamps use the thigh, more private and more erotic; anything else?’
‘Yep,’ she sounded the hard p just the way they all had at school. ‘Then you say, mine, my mate until eternity ends. Then he either accepts or declines the claim, says yours, or starts a fight if he doesn’t want to be claimed. If he really wants to, then he bites you and repeats the words, and makes the claim mutual and then that’s it.’
‘Then we’re mates?’ Buffy wanted to make sure she understood completely.
‘Then you’re mates, with all the benefits: feeling each other’s emotions, telepathy, an awareness of what is happening to the other one, you are fully bonded. But your lives are bonded as well: if one dies so does the other. The pain of being alone is just too much to bear.’
Buffy looked pensive, she really wanted to be Spike’s mate but really, really was frightened about being rejected. Everyone had left her. Her father, Angel, and she was terrified Spike would turn round at the last moment and reject the claim. She had to think about it, lots.
As usual when Buffy was thinking about one thing she changed the subject completely. ‘Cordy, I wanted to ask you, Dawn wants to go to a ball for her birthday, and we thought if it was OK we could time it back to something really special in Victorian times. Spike knows how to behave, even if he denies it.’
Cordy thought for a moment and grinned. ‘Oh yes, that sounds perfect. In fact how do you feel about a little vengeance on Cecily Underwood?’
‘That sounds like fun, but aren’t you supposed to be an Angel and what do you mean vengeance? That’s normally Anya’s job.’
‘Hey I’m an angel, not a saint.’ Cordy grinned and the two women got their heads together to plot and plan. ‘Cecily thought she was such a bitch, she wouldn’t even make grade one on the scale of Sunnydale High: Willow could take her down.’
Cordy’s last instruction to Buffy was simple. ‘Make sure you invite Morgana as well, she can act as Dawn’s chaperone then you can both enjoy the party.’
Leaving Buffy and Dawn poring over fashion books from 1883, to find just the right dress for the party, Cordy went downstairs to find Spike: they needed to talk as well. Sometimes Buffy’s Valley Girl roots really showed.
‘Hi bleached wonder,’ Cordy said without rancour as she entered the music room.
‘Hello Cheerleader,’ Spike replied in the same tone, ‘what can I do for you today? Nothing too serious I hope ‘cause all I want to do is get drunk, so if you don’t mind…’ he reached for the decanter to refill his glass.
‘I don’t mind you hiding inside the bottle William, but I think Buffy might,’ she smiled across at him. Spike marvelled at the different number of smiles the woman had. This was number 14: if you don’t stop what you are doing you will be in trouble and I am going to enjoy the show when you are.
Spike placed the glass carefully down on the table and gave Cordelia Chase his whole attention.
‘I want you to write a couple of letters Spike, they are needed if you are to regain what you have lost. I will see that they are delivered.’
‘Who are they to? And what do you want me to say? I’m not saying I’ll do it, you understand, and why the hell do I need to do what you say anyway?’
‘The letters are to Louisa, one dated May 1880, telling her you are taking your mother to Switzerland for the sake of her health and the other dated July 1881 telling Louisa that your mother has succumbed to Consumption and you are staying on in the continent for a Grand Tour.’
‘I never even thought about sending a letter to let Louisa know, I should’ve, I suppose. But why should I do it?’
Spike was getting belligerent. Too much brandy, Cordy thought.
‘You were only a young vamp, Spike, a fledgling, with a useless and sadistic sire. You couldn’t have thought of everything; at least you didn’t let Angelus know about your family, and as for why, one to let Louisa know that her mother died, and secondly to leave a space in history for you to drop into when you return to London.’
‘Return to London? Then I suppose you’ve OK’d this daft idea of going to a fancy ball. I am not doing that: no way, poncing around in evening dress, drinking champagne, getting bored stiff…’
‘Well you can of course not go, but Buffy is already picking out a dress and choosing flowers, so we’ll find someone else. I wonder if Heaven can spare Angel for an hour or two, or a whole evening. He always looked wonderful in formal dress…’
That just received a growl from Spike. There was no way he was letting the brooding one squire his ladies out for the evening. Cordy didn’t say anything else. She knew when she had won the battle and the war.
‘No way I’m getting out of this is there? It’s a done deal isn’t it? I’m going.’ He was still planning on trying to persuade the slayer it was a bad idea.
‘Yes you’re going, Spike; now, those letters?’
‘OK, OK, stop nagging woman. I’ll do it.’
‘Now get those letters written and leave them on your desk. I’ll pick them up later, you’ll find your seal on the desk in the study: you’ll need it.’
When he went upstairs late that night to find Buffy and Dawn still poring over the books deciding what to wear to the ball he knew that he was beaten, and he would be escorting both his girls to a formal ball like they had never seen before. The next few days would be full of dressmakers, dancing lessons and etiquette lessons so that Dawn and Buffy wouldn’t feel out of place. He really was love’s bitch.
The letters vanished from his desk in a shower of light and were delivered as promised.
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by EdgeheadAuthor's Chapter Notes:
for Katkin, this way she owes me another chapter of Superstar..you started this.