Upon awakening, he was met with an instant, dull, throbbing pain in his head. He was truly vexed due to being unable to recall what had transpired prior to cause such a discomfort. Hearing murmurs beyond the dreadful throbbing, he focused and overheard overlapping remarks coming from all around him.
“Hey, I think Mister Freeloading vamp is finally waking up.”
“It’s about time!”
“I second that, Xander.”
“Giles, do you think he’ll need some blood to, um, help him recover?”
“Willow, contrary to one’s belief, I am not running a Bed and Breakfast for vampires.”
From what he gathered there were three men and two women. Four of whom spoke in a rather strange vernacular. Coincidentally, one somewhat older man possessed an accent similar to his own. That, in itself, was reassuring. However, what plagued him was the manner in which this older man addressed the young lady. Rather informally and, he might add, quite scandalously, by using only her first name.
Before slowly opening his eyes, he steadied himself with several deep breaths and swallowed back the bile threatening to rise from his roiling stomach.
Looming above him, he noticed five blurry figures of varying heights. He suddenly felt anxious and promptly righted himself into a sitting position. He tried focusing on those before him without squinting, as he addressed them.
“Ah, how do you do? Please pardon me if my actions appear anything less than grateful for your hospitality, but how is it I have come to be here, and where is here exactly?”
Due to his blurred vision, he missed the incredulous looks shared and passed between those standing before him.
“Um, we brought you to Giles’ after you were hit by Toth’s beam of badness.” One of the women, the one who appeared to possess the darker hair of the two, responded.
“Thank you, Miss. May I inquire is Mister Giles among us? I would like to thank him properly.”
“I am.”
The same cultured voice from earlier sounded to his right. He tried to stand. However, after several failed attempts, he resigned himself to remaining in his seat.
“Please pardon my manners, Mister Giles, but it appears I have been slightly incapacitated by Mister Toth’s attack.” He outstretched his hand and continued; “I extend my sincerest gratitude for graciously sharing your home during my recovery from injury.”
He noticed one blurry figure step forward and eventually take his hand.
“Um, yes, you’re welcome.” With a firm shake, Mister Giles released his grip and moved back to his previous position.
“Oh my, how terribly rude of me to not properly introduce myself. My name is Mister Pratt, Mister William Pratt, and might I be so bold as to ask the names of my rescuers?”
There was a moment of silence before a volley of queries ensued. William tried focusing and following where each came from, but it remained quite difficult, due to his compromised vision, the rapidity, and overlapping arrangement of their words.
“Huh?”
“Why is he talking all Giles-y?”
“Who’s William Pratt?”
Thankfully, Mister Giles, who William assumed was the leader of the group, finally spoke. His authoritative voice silenced the others.
“Um, Mister Pratt, may I ask, from where do you currently hail?”
“London, of course.”
William heard murmurs from the group before Mr. Giles continued, “And pray tell, what year is it?”
“Mister Giles, I assume you are a physician and these queries are to attest to my memory as well as my sanity. I am well aware it is the tenth of October, the year of our Lord, eighteen seventy-nine.”
Following his response, William heard further muttered words and noticed the group moving off to his right. William felt on edge instantly.
Due to etiquette, he kept his eyes trained forward. However, even if he felt compelled to go against decorum and turn to look, his failed eyesight wouldn’t allow him to see much. Furthermore, even though it was clearly rude, he wasn’t able to overhear their discussion. William speculated from the intensity and hasty nature of their whispering that they were most likely debating his condition.
William feared they believed he had answered Mister Giles’ questions in an unseemly manner, and this ultimately sealed his fate. He heard stories of those deemed mad. They never returned home and spent the rest of their lives “patients” of Bedlam.
Dear God, if this is what is to become of me, what is to become of Mother?
William broke from his racing thoughts and fears when he heard a firm declaration he believed to have been spoken by the fair-haired woman.
“Giles, I don’t believe you’re listening to this crap!”
Breaking from the group, she approached and now stood before William. Even with his compromised eyesight and despite his limited time with the fairer sex, he believed she was quite cross with him.
“Look Spike, this undead English patient routine is getting really old, really quick.”
William, if possible, became even more confused. He knew it wasn’t proper to argue, nor was it his nature to be confrontational, yet he felt the need to clarify.
“Miss, I do not know of this Spike of whom you speak nor why you believe I am he, but I assure you, I am William Pratt of the London Pratts. Also, if I may be so bold, I am a man of reputable upbringing and would never adopt a ruffian’s moniker such as Spike.”
“What?”
“I think he said he’s not Spike.”
“Thanks, Willow, for translating, but I said “What?” because I don’t believe a word he just said, not ‘cause I didn’t understand. Come on people. If it looks like Spike, smells like Spike, and sounds…well, he doesn’t sound like Spike, but two outa three ain’t bad. So clearly, it’s Spike!”
William watched speechlessly as the fair-haired woman gestured angrily toward him. Thankfully, Mister Giles interceded before she continued.
“Buffy, it is true, this is Spike. However, I believe he may be suffering from some sort of amnesia, and his mind is resorting back to his pre-vampiric days.”
“So Giles, the spell Toth cast, it’s kinda like Ethan’s Halloween dress in stick form?”
“Not exactly, Willow. Ethan prayed to Janus, the Roman God of beginnings and transitions, or for Ethan’s purposes, the God of chaos. He used the costumes as conduits to affect those who wore them when he’d cast the spell. Those wearing the costumes truly believed they were what their costumes represented. This is different. For all intents and purposes, Spike believes he is who he was before he was turned: William Pratt.”
“So Toth went after Buffy planning for her to forget she was the Slayer and for her to think she was pre-Slayer Buffy?”
“That may be a reasonable explanation, Riley. However, I still believe we need to do more research to know for certain.”
William listened intensely to the group’s discussion. Even though he disagreed wholeheartedly with what Mister Giles claimed, that he and this Spike were one and the same, he decided to withhold his opinions for the moment. He had already spoken out once against Miss Buffy, who appeared to be a prominent, well-respected woman of a clearly influential group. It was wise not to anger her further by speaking out again.
“So in the mean time, what do we do with…him?”
“Well, and I don’t believe I’m suggesting this, I feel in this state he is ill-equipped to return to his crypt. Spi—um, William shall remain here until we are able to reverse Toth’s spell.”
William felt relieved Mister Giles told Miss Buffy that he would be staying there until he recovered. Even though he heard several grumbled responses from the others, once again he felt extremely indebted to Mister Giles. Otherwise, it appeared he would have been turned out into the streets if it were left up to some of the other members of the group.
With the matter concluded, he blurrily watched the group disburse before feeling the couch cushions beside him reposition. Turning, he noticed the dark-haired woman sitting quite close to him. Since this was the first time the opposite sex tried engaging him in conversation, William felt his heart racing from her nearness.
“Sp—I mean William, how are you feeling? I know a lot has happened. Don’t worry; we’ll figure it out and you’ll be, well, yourself again in no time.”
“You’re very kind, Miss—um, if you don’t mind, might I inquire what your name is?”
“Oh, Willow. Call me Willow. Sometimes you call me Red, but Willow’s good.”
“Thank you, Miss Willow. I assure you I will remain quiet as a church mouse and let your group aid me in anyway you deem fit. I do not want to be the cause of any further imposition.”
“Oh, no, no problems at all. In the meantime, um, is there anything I could do for you?”
“I, well, I wonder Miss Willow, did you happen upon my spectacles? I am having a dreadful time seeing and—“
“You wear glasses?”
“Yes, I have since my early childhood.”
“Huh. No, I’m sorry, I didn’t see your glasses. Oh! Maybe you could borrow a pair from Giles. I know they won’t be the same prescription but hopefully they’ll work.”
“That would be wonderful. Thank you, Miss Willow.”
William watched her blurry image stand from the couch and approach Mister Giles, Miss Buffy, and the two other men, one of which he believed to be named Mister Riley.
While he waited patiently, Mister Giles left the room and returned moments later. He then noticed Miss Willow taking the proffered item and approaching him.
“Here, try these.”
William reached out, taking the glasses. He slid them on, adjusting them behind his ears and the bridge of his nose. Once in place, he looked through the lenses and was amazed at how close Mister Giles’ prescription was to his own. When his eyes finally adjusted, he raised his gaze to Miss Willow.
He immediately noticed she was quite lovely, with short auburn hair, porcelain skin, and large and expressive green eyes. Trying to be inconspicuous, he lowered his gaze.
He became completely taken back by her attire. She wore a thin, orange shirt made of a strange fabric that clung to her slight form. William tried not to gawk nor blush at how highly inappropriate, bordering on scandalous, her dress was. His gaze lowering further, he almost gasped at the sight: she wore trousers!
William turned and observed the other’s clothing as well. They, including Mister Giles to a lesser degree, lacked proper civilized dress.
Considering the possibilities, William believed perhaps Mister Giles might be involved with the Colonial Missionary Society. Graciously, he had taken in these wayward immigrants to teach them he tenents of Christianity and the proper discretion and etiquette of Victorian society. This would explain their outlandish dress, mannerisms, and speech. They must be from another country, but from which one, he was uncertain.
William continued regarding the others until the fair-haired woman, Miss Buffy, moved into his line of sight. At that moment, William was lost. She possessed a radiant beauty the like with which none other could hope to equal. Her loveliness even far surpassed that of the Underwoods’ eldest daughter, Cecily.
Miss Buffy was blessed with delicate features, a slightly up-turned nose, full bee-stung lips, and green eyes burning with an unbridled passion. Her long blond hair flowed in waves over her shoulders. She was petite in stature; however, she gave off an extraordinary presence, rivaling and surpassing that of any man.
Instantly, William’s entire being reacted to her beauty. His mind raced with lines of poetry while his body expressed his longing with a notable tightness in his trousers.
Greatly ashamed of his uncouth reaction to Miss Buffy, William vowed to rein in his baser desires, just as a proper Victorian gentleman must. A chaste and lovely woman such as Miss Buffy should never be subjected to any man’s vulgar needs.
Despite his firm declaration, when Miss Buffy spoke, William could not take his eyes away from her unsurpassed exquisiteness.
“Giles, if you don’t mind, Riley and I are going to head out. There’s not much we can do with Sp…, um, here. I’m going to head home and rest up. Tomorrow, I’m Toth hunting.”
“Ah, yes, good idea, Buffy. I believe even if we are unable to locate the spell Toth used, if you are able to obtain his weapon, we would be able to know exactly what we are dealing with.”
“Or better yet, kill him, and this stops any spells he cast, right?”
William’s gaze moved from Miss Buffy to Mister Riley, who had just spoken. He was shocked to see how Miss Buffy allowed Mister Riley to touch her about the waist. Obviously, despite Miss Buffy’s strong convictions, she must fear this man, and so must the others, since they were allowing him to hold her in such a disrespectful manner.
In addition, what was of even more concern was that not a soul responded negatively to Mister Riley’s threatening to kill Mister Toth. Clearly, this rogue did not deserve the exquisite Miss Buffy. William took an instant disliking to this brutish, disagreeable man.
“Buffy, I will see you in the morning, so we can review what our research uncovered.”
“Okay, see you in the morning Giles. Wills, I’ll catch up with you at the dorms. Oh, have fun, guys!”
William watched Miss Buffy and Mister Riley leave, while Mister Giles, Miss Willow, and the other young man, began diligently reviewing the numerous books spread out before them.
While they chatted among themselves, William took in his surroundings. Dozens of books lined the walls, and the furnishings, even though they appeared strange, felt welcoming.
Once he gave the room a preliminary perusal, William’s thoughts returned to Miss Buffy. He felt his earlier reactions returning tenfold. William feared the others would see his look of longing and, even more daunting, notice his body’s traitorous reaction. It was of the highest priority to gain self-control. With deep breaths, he lowered his head and focused on his folded hands in an attempt to attain a level of calm.
With his head bowed, William immediately noticed something quite odd concerning his hands. He unfurled and splayed his fingers to view them the better. Why were his fingernails blackened with lacquer?
Perplexed, William extended his gaze. He wore all black, almost as if in mourning. Compelled to see more, he stood and further inspected himself. He wore a black leather trench-coat, an improperly formfitting shirt, and trousers, both made of strange fabrics. In complete shock, William felt the room spinning and collapsed on the couch behind him.
“Oh, dear Lord,” he muttered before everything went black.
Author’s Notes:
October 10th was the date when “Replacements” originally aired. This was in 2000, not 1879…of course!
Bethlam’s Royal Hospital, also known as Bedlam: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bethlem_Royal_Hospital “a psychiatric hospital located in London, United Kingdom and part of the South London and Maudsley NHS Foundation Trust. Although no longer based at its original location, it is recognised as the world's first and oldest institution to specialise in mental illnesses”
Colonial Missionary Society: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Missionary#The_British_missionary_societies
Overall, people would go abroad and at home and would try to convert people to Christianity and try to teach them to be a “respectable member of society.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Well, I'm hoping the minimal readage is more from the weird time I posted and not lack of interest. *keeping fingers crossed* I appreciate all those that have read and those that had taken the time to review. And if your just catching up, thanks for taking a chance on my new story. Big thanks to my lovely betas: Sanityfair and Diebirchen--you ladies are the best. And thanks to Capella for her awesome banner!
Chapter End Notes:
*peeking through fingers* Please take a moment to let me know whatcha think. :)