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thanks to edgehead


Author's Chapter Notes:
I am so sorry for the length of time it has take for me to update any of my fics. RL has been very mean and nasty recently, with a death in the family and the fall out had my muse heading for the hills.

Hope this was worth the wait
Morgan held up the decanter of whisky to his guest. He knew he needed a drink and hoped it would break the ice; he had never entertained a vampire before. The slim blond man relaxing in the wing chair by the fire nodded and smiled. He could still hear the poor watcher’s heart going nineteen to the dozen and smiled. It was meant to reassure the human but seemed to scare him even more. A drop of the good stuff would smooth the rest of the evening.

Morgan chided himself when he felt his hand shaking. Spike smiled, showing all his white perfect human teeth as Morgan handed over the large measure of twenty-year old malt. The two men sat quietly enjoying the fire and the warming effect of the whisky before the silence was broken by Spike.

‘I ain’t going to bite if you talk to me, watcher,’ he grinned. He had timed the comment perfectly and Morgan spluttered on the drink. Spike’s mouth twitched upwards in a smile, he was enjoying this too much and knew he would be in trouble from his mate later, but: still evil here…

The men exchanged looks over the top of the whisky glasses, assessing each other and liking what they saw: just wary, watcher of vampire and vampire of watcher.

‘How come she didn’t kill you?’ Morgan finally blurted out. He hadn’t meant that to be his first question; it had just escaped his mouth. Morgan started cursing himself, he was supposed to be circumspect and his brain had left him as though he were still a callow youth.

‘She tried,’ Spike smiled at the memory. ‘God knows I tried to kill her enough times as well, but there is something about Summers’ women that just twists a man's heart, leaves him protecting them whether he wants to or not. Dawn’s just the same; so was their mother, Joyce.’

Morgan signalled the blond to continue his tale, and sat back to listen.

‘First time I met Joyce she whacked me across the head with an axe!’ Spike seemed to be lost in memories that were coursing through his mind. Unfortunately he had caught Morgan taking another sip of whisky and again it went down the wrong way and left the poor man coughing and spluttering. Spike watched as the poor man went slightly purple before he used his preternatural speed to reach the watcher and thump him, gently, across the back.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered to Morgan when the man finally got his breath back.

‘Is this how you kill your victims, drown them in malt?’ Morgan gasped when he’d finally got his breath back.

‘No, but it’s a thought, and what a way to go!’ Spike laughed and went back to his own seat and drink.

The gentlemen were both dressed for a formal evening out and counted themselves lucky that they had only been waiting an hour and a half for the ladies to join them. The conversation flowed over a surprising range of subjects until Spike stood up and placed his empty glass on the table.

‘Ladies on their way,’ he said before sedately leaving the room and strolling to the bottom of the grand stair. Morgan couldn’t remember when he had enjoyed an evening more.

‘Useful hearing, that,’ he whispered as the gentlemen picked up the three posies they had waiting on a table situated at the bottom of the stairs.

Looking up, Sir William Pratt was glad that he no longer needed to breathe because if he had he didn’t think he would be capable. Buffy looked incredible, amazing, beautiful, effulgent. It was the only word that fitted. She glowed with an inner light, she truly shone. Her dress was an off the shoulder green silk creation that grasped her slender waist and made it look even tinier than usual. Her blond hair had been swept up into a high design that suited a married lady. Around her neck was the emerald necklace he had collected from the bank vault earlier that afternoon. It had been in his family for years and had always been handed on to the eldest son’s bride as a wedding gift.

Dawn followed just a step behind, looking equally beautiful, her hair curling around her shoulders, dressed in a pale blue dress, as befitted her (officially) maiden status, but Spike’s eyes could only see his beloved mate.

‘You look amazing pet,’ he managed to say. Buffy just looked up into his eyes and smiled demurely.

Morgana coughed loudly, bringing him out of his reverie and Spike looked at the other ladies and smiled, glad that vampires couldn’t blush or he would have been beetroot by now. ‘You all look wonderful,’ he added.

The two Victorian gentlemen bowed politely as they presented the evening posies to the three women. ‘For you to carry.’ Morgan explained to Dawn. She was unused to getting flowers, and sniffed the posy.

‘Thank you,’ she said, her face aglow with excitement.


Buffy smiled up into her mate’s face. She could see the love burning there and wondered how she could ever have doubted him in the years before the fall of Sunnydale. Her heart felt as though it were going to explode from the amount of emotion that was swelling up inside.

‘I do so love you William,’ she said quietly, knowing that only he could hear her.

‘As I do you pet,’ he managed to stammer in reply.

Morgana smiled indulgently at the pair; she signalled Morgan to escort Dawn into the waiting carriage and coughing again, informed the besotted blonds that it was time for them to leave.


Dawn looked out of the window of the horse-drawn carriage open-mouthed. The gas-lights were lit showing a soft yellow light, and there were vehicles everywhere. The two horses pulling theirs were elegant chestnuts with proud heads. William Pratt had given them the once-over with a knowing eye. It was another side of her husband for Buffy to investigate; whatever else happened in her life she would never be bored. William Pratt was a deep and complex man.

The house in Grosvenor Square was ablaze with lights. There seem to be coaches everywhere, taking their turn to pull up to the grand entrance. Liveried footmen were waiting to open doors and help the occupants out. Dawn and Buffy were trying to take in all the different sights and sounds around them. Spike and Morgana exchanged a small smile at the childish exuberance the Summers’ girls were displaying. Very unfashionable behaviour but Morgan was pleased that his guests were having fun. He hadn’t forgotten Morgana’s not-so-veiled threats that morning, not that he would be stupid enough to call her wrath down on his head…well not for a second time, anyway. Their own carriage moved forward along the line and pulled up outside the great ornate doorway. A footman opened the door and folded open the steps before standing aside to allow the gentlemen to alight. The highlight of Dawn’s birthday was about to begin.

Morgan turned to help his many-times-great-grandmother down the step and then Dawn. Sir William Pratt shook slightly as he helped Lady Pratt down the step. He still couldn’t quite believe she was his, even the touch of her hand made his body react.

He looked up to the house he hadn’t seen for nearly 130 years. A house where he’d spent happy days as a boy. He led Buffy up to the front door, which was standing open and welcoming to the guests who were arriving in droves. It was going to be quite a squeeze. Buffy could see a grand swooping staircase rising up to the public saloons on the next floor. She took a pace forward and felt Spike slow. He was worried about something; then she remembered that he hadn’t been invited into this house. There would be a barrier. Buffy was angry at herself for not remembering beforehand. But she sometimes forgot what exactly her husband was.

Morgana and Dawn were right behind the blond pair. Morgana leant forward and whispered loudly, ‘Do hurry up, Pratt! I told your Godmother you were in town and she said to make sure you attended tonight!’

Morgana had thought of everything. Buffy was relieved. The woman had removed the barrier to the house they were entering, and managed to let him know without letting everyone around in on his secret.

The ball was everything Dawn could have dreamed of: the lights and the music had captivated her from the first moment. Lady Wheatmore had made her and Buffy so welcome, although she had told William off for not writing for so long. She had promised to visit them all at Langham’s the following afternoon before turning to receive the next guest. William let out an unwanted breath. He had been scared about facing his old life. He felt Buffy’s reassurance through the claim: she was flooding his mind with lots of images of what she’d do to him later, after the ball was over. He was very glad that his dress trousers were looser than his jeans tended to be. He had never followed the fashion of wearing an Albert, but was regretting that decision now.

Buffy and Dawn looked around the huge ballroom. There were beautiful women everywhere, the silk of the dresses reflecting back the lights from the gas lamps. The walls were lined with mirrors and an orchestra had been set up at the far end. There were couples working through a complex country dance on the floor and more people around the edges. Chairs had been set up for the older ladies and Morgana led the way across to them.
She intended to take her role of chaperone very seriously: she greeted the ladies to either side of her, although she knew neither of them, but Morgan introduced the two parties properly and the older women settled in for a chat. Spike took his place behind the ladies’ chairs and tried not to feel so insecure. Occasions like this brought back so many bad memories for him…

Dawn was wide-eyed, but curtseyed very sweetly when one of the gentleman, Richard Addams, asked her for the next dance. She looked at Morgana and received a nod of approval and they swept onto the floor for a polka. Morgan bowed low to the slayer.

May I have the privilege of this dance?’ he asked and pointedly ignored the growls coming from the vampire behind him. Buffy smiled and put her hand in the Watchers as he span her across the floor.

Morgana had vetted every young man that had presented himself to Morgan and William for an introduction to the young Miss Summers during the evening. Dawn was having the time of her life. They went down to supper together and Morgan had introduced them to hundreds of people. Rumour had gone around that William Pratt had married an American Heiress and was now even richer. He smiled to himself as he heard the tales spread throughout the room. There were few of his old acquaintances around; mind you he had murdered quite a few of them when he was first turned. Then he saw HIM: Henry Fitzherbert, his nemesis. One of the few he hadn’t managed to kill. His demon wanted to rip the man’s head off in the middle of the dance floor, but he could feel Buffy sending soothing thoughts through the claim, reassuring him of her love and commitment to him.

‘Your Godmother wouldn’t thank you for getting blood all over her nice floor, would she?’ Buffy sent him a smouldering look. ‘And if you are a very good vampire you might get a tasty treat just before bed.’ She moved her head, making the claim marks on her neck obvious to the aroused demon.



Buffy looked around, trying to see who had upset her mate so much. All she could see was a fat man in his thirties trying to look younger. The man walked over to her when he saw her watching him.

‘Lady Pratt, I know we haven’t been formally introduced but I do so hope you won’t mind my forwardness. I’m Henry Fitzherbert,’ he said, holding out his hand to her.

Buffy wasn’t sure how to react, she knew she wasn’t supposed to touch him, and there was something about the man that made her skin crawl. He was debauched.

‘May I have the pleasure of this dance?’ He asked. His voice sounded oily. Buffy really didn’t like him. She was relieved when she felt Spike come up behind her.

‘Your lemonade, my dear,’ Sir William said as he presented her with a glass.
‘My God, Fitzherbert, I haven’t seen you for years: how are you old chap?’ William said. ‘Watch this one pet, he’s not nice,’ he murmured quietly enough so the man couldn’t hear him. But Buffy had. She smiled up at her husband from below her lashes coyly, tempting the demon into renewing the claim.

‘I’m sorry Mr. Fitzherbert, but my husband promised me this dance.’ She handed the man her glass and moulded herself to Spike’s body as they indulged in a waltz.


Morgana had told her that she was only permitted two or three dances with Spike, and she had been determined to save those for the waltzes. William waltzed beautifully and she loved the feeling when he whirled and twirled her around the floor. And she knew it was acceptable for her to dance with any gentleman that had been introduced to her, but waltzes were Spike’s. She could feel the eyes of many of the women on her as they danced through the room. Spike was an amazing dancer, she had always known it; he guided her though the patterns and around the other couples. She was truly in heaven. When they finished, Spike escorted her back to her seat near Morgana, but growled as he saw Fitzherbert nearby. He was insecure enough in this situation and seeing his old enemy just brought back all the bad old feelings.

Fitzherbert could have sworn he saw Pratt’s eyes flash gold. He wanted to discompose the man that the wimp had become. He had found Cecily Underwood and brought her over for an introduction.

‘Pratt, You remember Miss Underwood, as was? She is now Lady Southmere.’

‘Congratulations on your marriage, Lady Southmere; may I present my wife Elizabeth Summers? Elizabeth my dear, this is Cecily Southmere.’

Buffy looked at the woman who had made her husband’s human years so tormented. She didn’t seem much, and certainly wasn’t that pretty. She had the sort of look on her face that Cordy used to keep for the outcasts in the school, and was looking straight down her nose at Buffy.

‘Come on Pratt, why don’t you introduce me to the rest of your party? We can leave the ladies to get better acquainted,’ he added with a snide smile. He linked his arm through Spike’s and led him away. Spike couldn’t make a scene, he didn’t dare spoil Dawn’s party, and so let himself be led away, hoping that Buffy would be a match for his youthful amour.

‘Does William still write poetry, Lady Pratt?’ Cecily asked in a condescending tone. ‘He used to keep us very amused with his pitiful verses.’

‘He’s had a lot of practice since then, and his latest is very well received in some circles. It’s so nice to be married to a man who can create things isn’t it; is your husband artistic at all?’

‘Oh no, he wouldn’t waste his time on that sort of rubbish!’

‘How strange that you find creativity a waste of time. Personally, I admire a person who can produce something beautiful. What is it Mr Morris says: the things one owns should be either useful or beautiful?’ Buffy smiled at the woman.

‘How long have you been married, Lady Pratt - or may I call you Buffy?’

‘My friends call me Buffy, so Lady Pratt will do nicely thankyou, and we have been married just a few months.’


‘So William must still be making a lot of demands on you. I remember how hard it was when I first married, the “obligations” one had to submit to.’ Cecily was determined to try and cause trouble.

Buffy laughed out loud. ‘Do you find it an obligation to be close to your husband? How sad… No, William spoils me dreadfully and it is always a joy and a great pleasure to be with him, day or night,’ she added with a sly smile. ‘Now you must forgive me Lady Southmere, Morgana de Merthin is signalling me and I really should go back to my party.’

Buffy walked across the room slowly. Her smile was as broad as it could be, almost a smirk in fact.

‘I’m sorry pet, I couldn’t get away from the pillock.’

‘It’s alright Spike, she just tried a game of one-upmanship, and lost. Who does she think she is?’ Buffy shrugged her shoulders. ‘The woman was a moron.’

‘The toast of London, I believe,’ Morgan said as he handed Buffy another drink.

‘Well, she's not my toast. I went to school with Cordy and Harmony: her bitching didn’t even merit amateur status!!’ Buffy huffed.

‘How did you know about William Morris?’ Spike asked, fascinated by what he had overheard.

‘I read, and Mom had this book about him in the gallery. I read it, ‘cause he was alive when you were,’ she smiled up into her mate’s eyes.

That’s charming, Buffy.’ Morgana smiled. She was enjoying her observation of the vampire and his mate. The shining ones were truly amongst them.



Dawn was having the time of her life. She hadn’t sat out a single dance all evening, but the icing on her cake had been when Martin Lawson had turned up to claim a waltz. He was wearing full dress uniform from the American Army, courtesy of 1880. He looked so handsome Dawn found it hard to breathe: the last person she expected to see was Martin. She had been surrounded by admirers all night, each one trying to sign her dance card when the uniformed man had pushed his way through the crowd. The men were less than pleased when a complete stranger took the belle of the ball away from them to have the next dance. Cordy smiled as she vanished back into her own realm: things were progressing very nicely.

Dawn felt that she was in heaven, and Buffy smiled as she watched her sister twirl across the floor in Martin’s arms. She didn’t have to turn to know that Spike was just behind her. She leant back onto his chest and took strength from his presence.

‘The doc has asked my permission to court her,’ he said quietly to Buffy. Buffy turned quickly to look at her mate. ‘And?’

‘And I told him No Way, Niblet is too young.’ Spike grinned as he saw the storm clouds descend on to his mate’s face.

‘You, you… man, you!’ Buffy was furious; she knew how much Dawn cared for Martin and couldn’t believe Spike had said No! She turned to him ready to give him a piece of her mind when she saw the look in his eyes. He was winding her up. ‘You are so easy, pet! I said yes: what did you think I‘d say?’

‘Is he going to ask her to marry him?’

‘He showed me the ring, and it’s beautiful.’ Spike added. ‘Bit strange playing the part of Dawn’s dad, though’.

Buffy smiled and leaned back against her mate, totally secure in his love for her.

‘William?’

Spike turned round to see a face that made his heart feel like it was beating again. ‘Louisa,’ he whispered. ‘Louisa,’ he said again more loudly. ‘I was coming to visit you tomorrow.’

Buffy swung her head round to see Spike kissing the cheek of a very beautiful woman with sparkling blue eyes.

‘When did you get back? How have you been, you look amazing!’ she babbled at him.
Buffy felt the jealousy fire through her heart. Whoever this was, Spike loved her, she could feel the emotion over the claim. She looked closer at the woman who was still hugging William. Spike broke off from the hug and held the woman at arm’s length, looking her up and down.

‘You look beautiful tonight, Louisa.’

Then the other woman looked pointedly at Buffy. ‘William?’

‘I’m so sorry, Louisa this is my wife Buffy, Elizabeth Summers… Buffy this is my sister, Louisa Aldercott.’


Chapter End Notes:
please, please review. i need the contact to ffed the muse at the moment



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