REDEMPTION
Chapter 11: ‘Bad Girl Buffy’
A/N: I’m starting this chapter differently then the others. This one will start on the Summers' farm and might shed some more insight into Caleb’s dark, twisted mind.
I am so trying to write Caleb on some canon with the show and his character on it.
Later in the chapter, there will be more Spuffy doings! Yeah! Our duo belongs together and they are growing closer daily.
Caleb Montgomery was a tenacious man, no question about that at all. He himself knew this, as did most of the folks in or about Redemption, Nebraska. Even Lord Ethan Rayne, all the way back in merry Olde England had ‘noticed’ the Montgomery’s of Kentucky. After the Great War, the old despot, Rayne, had sent his ill gotten money to the Americas, to aid the spawns of people like the Montgomerys.
Rayne had backed a teenaged Caleb, years before this, financially, and set him up on a thriving farm in Nebraska. Did it matter that the land had once belonged, and legally, to a Shawnee family? Not really; in fact, not at all. If Caleb Montgomery wanted this land, then he would have it. So, he did; Lord Rayne made sure of that.
When Caleb, now in his late twenties, had began to scout around for a perfect mate? His eyes, most naturally, had fallen on Miss Elizabeth Summers, daughter of Hank and Joyce Summers.
It wasn’t that far-fetched, really, for the handsome, well set Caleb Montgomery to want and secure the most eligible young woman in the Territory for himself. Elizabeth would make a more then suitable wife for the ambitious young farmer and a succulent little bed mate. Of that, Caleb had no doubt.
All of Elizabeth’s, or Lizzy’s, as he liked to call her, prim and proper emoting couldn’t hide the passionate woman inside of her. Caleb had sniffed this out, the minute he spied the ripening young fifteen-year-old at the County Fair and he had set his hat on Elizabeth to be his wife. When the time was right, of course.
The time had come and Caleb had set the trap for Elizabeth and her father. After ingratiating himself with Hank Summers, some years before, Caleb courted Lizzy with all of the charm and demeanor of a true southern gentleman. He had succeeded, truly, Caleb had. Or, so he thought, until an unruly, scoundrel and heathen by the name of William ‘Spike’ Giles had ridden into Redemption.
Caleb was still in shock about that and the ego inside of him could not accept the fact that this outlaw had come and swept his Lizzy off of her feet. He had not, of course, but then why did the Summers’ family insist, including poor Hank, that Lizzy no longer wanted to marry himself, Caleb?
As he rode up to the Summers’ farm, Caleb took long, deep breaths; to cleanse his angry thoughts. For two days now, he had drunk down his whisky and lay in his empty bed, on his own farm. His dark thoughts had nearly driven him to madness, but he had managed to subdue them, at least long enough to come to some conclusions.
First off, Caleb had decided to take matters into his own hands and confront Mrs. Hank Summers, while her husband was away. He, Caleb, would stand up and be counted, like a true man that he was, and ask Elizabeth’s mother, right out, if his betrothed had changed her mind.
There was two ways for Caleb to react to any answer Mrs. Summers may give him. Of this he was sure and he had practiced his reactions, most definitely.
If Joyce Summers would not, or could not answer his blunt questions, then Caleb would have no choice but to turn his fine steed, Lucifer, around and head back to his home. With his hat in hand and his tail between his legs.
Now, if Mrs. Summers would be so kind to be forthright with Caleb, tell him the whole truth? Then perhaps he could counter the older woman with a smooth, well rehearsed answer that might sway Joyce towards his camp.
This is why Caleb was here, now, at the Summers’ farm, even while Elizabeth and now Hank were gone. If he could wiggle his way into Joyce Summers’ trust, Caleb might be able to salvage some chance of marrying Lizzy.
When he reached the front porch of the Summers’ home, on his horse Lucifer, Caleb saw Mrs. Summers come out of the screened door. She was followed by that little brat, Dawn and her sickly sot of an only son, Hank Jr.
“Hello Caleb,” Joyce greeted the dour looking younger man, reluctantly. “What brings you here?” She asked, trying not to let her anxiousness show. For the first time since her husband had left, to retrieve their oldest child, Joyce felt nervous that she had not allowed Hank to leave a man in charge of the place.
“I’ve come to talk about Elizabeth with you, Mrs. Summers,” Caleb grunted. He noted the obvious discomfort his presence was eliciting from not only Joyce Summers, but her two children. “I thought I should discuss what will happen, after Elizabeth comes home to me, uhm, to us,” he added quickly.
“I believe my husband told you that Buffy is not interested in pursuing a marriage with you, Caleb,” Joyce retorted. “She made it quite clear to me, and to her father, that she will not be marrying you, ever.”
Joyce tried very hard to sound all brave and sure in her statement, but Caleb Montgomery suddenly made her feel very unsettled indeed. She had never really noticed, before this, that the man before her was really quite odd in his manner. He had an almost evil demeanor about him, now. It seemed to just glow from him. Is this what her darling Buffy had feared about Caleb? Why she chose to run from him?
Caleb noticed, not for the first time, that Joyce Summers was quite an attractive older woman. It was right then, that he remembered that Elizabeth’s mother had been quite young herself when she had her first child.
‘Was she seventeen or eighteen?’ Caleb asked himself, doing the math quickly in his head. Eighteen, that was Joyce Summers' age at the time of Lizzy's birth. Lizzy was just now seventeen-years of age. So, Joyce was about thirty-six-years-old, just a few years older then Caleb.
‘Hmmm,’ Caleb began to ponder this thought as he tried to think of something more to say to Joyce. ‘Say Hank doesn’t bring Elizabeth home,’ he reasoned, logically. ‘What if Hank doesn’t make it home either? That would leave a grieving Joyce and a fairly young family to care for?’
Joyce Summers was an attractive woman, no question in Caleb’s confused mind. Her full figure was appealing to Caleb; a kind of fuller version of Elizabeth’s trim frame. An ample breast, with a full, bottom, drew a man’s eye to the older woman’s assets.
Caleb couldn’t help himself, he began to visualize Hank Summers’ wife, naked and willing, underneath him. He could see himself pounding into the mother, taking her every way he could and…
“Caleb, about Buffy,” Joyce’s gentle voice broke into Caleb’s lustful thoughts, bringing him back to the situation at hand. The younger Summers’ girl, that brat Dawn, huddled behind her mother. Every moment or so, Dawn would give Caleb a rather disgusted look.
‘The little bitch couldn’t possibly know what I was thinking,’ Caleb assured himself. ‘She’s a little sneak, but not that worldly that she’d have any idea what a man wants from a woman like Lizzy, or her mother. Now, if the daughter is unattainable? The mother would make a nice replacement,’ Caleb realized in secret delight.
“I said that my daughter, Buffy, is not interested in pursuing any wedding plans with you, Caleb Montgomery. I believe it is time to move along and carve a life in another fashion.”
“She’ll be spoiled,” Caleb blurted out, without really thinking about what he was saying. “Elizabeth will not come home, pure and sweet as before. Those heathen outlaws will have taken her, plenty of times,” he spat maliciously. “Do you think your precious ‘Buffy’ can be so choosy, once she’s been defiled?"
“Leave my land!” Joyce cried angrily. “How dare you come here and say such things! In front of me and my children! Get off our land, Caleb Montgomery and do not return here!”
“You’d best think about this, Mrs. Summers,” Caleb growled lowly. He noticed that the little brat, Dawn, stuck her tongue out at him in mockery. Even the boy, Hank Jr., scowled at him, an expression of pure mockery on his stupid face.
“I’m thinkin’ that when Elizabeth returns, if she does,” Caleb retorted in his guttural mutter. “I’m thinkin’ that she’ll be crawlin’ to me, on her hands and knees, Mrs. Summers. To give her a decent name and…”
“Leave!” Joyce roared. She pulled out the long rifle her Hank had left her to protect their family and home. She leveled the gun at Caleb Montgomery, catching him in the rifle’s scopes, her blue eyes narrowed in rage.
“I’ll go,” Caleb mumbled, “but remember this Mrs. Summers. When Lizzy returns, shamed and beaten down? I will be there for her.”
Caleb leapt up onto Lucifer and turned the steed’s head to the south, towards his own farm. He never looked back as he rode the dark horse back to his home. His dark, wicked thoughts overwhelmed him as he veered off from the path home and made his way to Redemption.
There was a whore, at The Red Garter, that could relieve Caleb of some of his tension. The pert little blond whore would take what Caleb had to give her and never protest at all. Who cared if the filthy bitch wasn’t Elizabeth Summers? He’d have his fiancé back, soon enough, of that Caleb Montgomery was sure.
Buffy leaned over and took a long, welcome drink of the cool river water. William stood behind her; she could feel his steely blue-eyed on her backside. A week ago, this eyeing by Will would have mortified Buffy, but now? She actually rather enjoyed his attention.
‘I am turning into a real trollop,’ Buffy thought sadly, trying not to beam at Will’s attentions to her. ‘I really do enjoy William’s admiration of me. Soon, he will want more then just ‘oohs and ahs’ from me for his attentions.’
A few yards away, Buffy could hear the evil Graham, griping about having to ride so far out of their way. Just because of the little blond piece of skirt of Spike’s.
“We’d be halfway through Colorado by now,” Graham groused bitterly. "If we’d have left the little skirt back at the cabin. Like I wanted,” he whined like a spoiled brat.
“Buffy’s with me,” Spike growled at Graham as he placed a protective arm about Buffy’s tiny waist. “I thought Angel told you to shut your trap,” the blond spat at the taller man, menacingly.
“Let’s see how happy your ‘girl’ will be when we’re sleeping out on the prairie dirt of the Utah Territory, Giles,” Graham laughed wickedly. “When there’s no luxury of a cabin or bed to…”
“Shut the fuck up!” Angel roared at Graham impatiently. “Don’t make me choose between you and my blood, Graham,” he added sharply. “Believe me, I’ll choose family, every time!”
“Right,” Graham muttered as he shot Spike a nasty look. Then, for good measure, he leered at Buffy without any shame at all.
Spike must not have noticed, because he just helped Buffy back up on the horst she was now riding. It was a little palomino mare, the color of buttermilk. Buffy had fallen in love with her the minute she sat on the horse’s sleek back.
“Wyoming is certainly a ‘big’ place, isn’t it, William?” Buffy asked timidly, trying to change the subject. Even she could sense the dour mood of the gang around her and she did not want to add to their worries.
“We’ve been in the Utah Territory for a day, Princess,” Spike chuckled gleefully. “We’re headed for the great salty lake, in the Territory. It’s like an ocean, sweetheart, only smaller,” he offered hopefully.
Spike wanted Buffy to come around and finally feel a part of this group, as motley as it might be. If he hoped to have this fine girl as his mate, anytime in the near future? She would need to adapt to this life of his and soon. Mexico was a ways off, yes, but Spike was more then sure the gang of outlaws would arrive there. Sometime soon.
“Oh,” Buffy whispered, suddenly intimidated by the whole idea of Utah and its vastness.
“Just a round-about trip through the Utah and we’re in Arizona,” Spike continued jovially. “After that? Mexico is just a…”
“We’ll camp, soon,” Rupert Giles mumbled as he rode past his son and Buffy. “I don’t care for riding at night,” he added gruffly.
“Will there be no board, William?” Buffy asked quietly as she rode next to the blond outlaw.
“Not in this part of Utah, sweet,” Spike replied guiltily. “Probably not until close to the Arizona border. “Angel has friends, but not that many in Utah I’m afraid,” he snorted.
“Okay,” Buffy sighed dramatically. “Will you stay close by me William? I mean at night when…” She glanced back, fearfully, at Graham and that Holden fellow.
“I’d rather die then leave you off, too far from me,” Spike murmured back to her. “I’ll have my bedroll, close as I can to yours. Promise. Thought I might throw together some kind of shelter for you, as soon as we’ve stopped for the day. A lean-to?”
“That would be nice, thank you Will,” Buffy hummed in response.
“Mexico has a vast ocean, really part of a gulf, pet,” Spike whispered into Buffy’s warm little ear.
They were half laying, half sitting up in their bedrolls, by a small river, somewhere in the Utah Territory. The stars were so close to the young ‘lovers’ that it seemed you could reach out and touch them.
Night had come and per Rupert’s commands, the group had bunked down until the next morning. Rupert Giles had a superstition about traveling at night and the rest of the gang tried to respect that.
“I don’t speak Spanish,” Buffy muttered, embarrassed momentarily. “In Mexico,” she continued shyly, “they speak Spanish and I can’t say a word of it.”
“Me either,” Spike chuckled as he lit a cigarette and glanced at Buffy, longingly.
“How…” she began timidly, but stopped suddenly.
“We’ll manage,” Spike sighed, taking a long hard drag on his smoke. It was getting harder and harder to fight the urge to just take Buffy, right then and there. Spike had managed, for days, to keep his passion in check but he knew soon that it might become impossible for him.
“Tell me more,” Buffy ordered William in a raspy voice. “I want to know more about your cousins, Angel and Connor. About Riley and Xander and yes, even you William.” She laid back down on her bedroll and stared up at the inky black sky.
“All right, Princess,” Spike replied slowly. “I’ll start with Angel and Connor,” he added as he stubbed out his cigarette.
“My cousins, like I said, came from a pretty posh plantation, down in Georgia. Well, it was posh, before the War that is. After? It was pretty low rent. The battles; the depression in the South and all? It took it’s toll. Add to it the fact that my aunt’s husband never returned from the war? Things went from bad to worse.”
Buffy was not shocked, not really that is. New and stories like this were common to her, especially after the great Civil War between the States.
“Angel was a young man, of course, when the war ended and Connor was just a sprog really. After the conflict,” Spike continued thoughtfully, “there were a lot of problems down ‘there’ and such. Taxes needed to be paid and crops were poor; people were starving, dying really. That’s when the ‘saviors’ from the North showed up in the South, giving false hope and promises. Joseph Masters,” Spike spat out the name in disgust.
“The Joseph Masters?” Buffy asked, a little in awe.
“Yeah,” Spike replied hastily, “the one from New York City. He sent his ‘men’ down to Georgia to ‘help’ out the newly displaced people there. That’s when Angel first got the itch for revenge,” Spike scowled unhappily. “This Masters’ people? They burned my Aunt, Angel and young Connor out of house and home. That’s when Angel turned to crime,” he added bitterly.
“I’m not excusing my cousin,” Spike explained matter-of-factly to Buffy. “Just tellin’ you what happened with Angel and then, Connor, later on.”
“I see,” Buffy murmured, still a little puzzled by this information that William had given her.
They lay in silence, together, looking up at the stars above them, then…
“And you Will,” Buffy finally whispered softly. “I know what your cousin, Connor told me. What you’ve revealed and all. But,” she stammered, “I really do need to know more, before I…”
“Before you what?” Spike asked Buffy as he gazed at her with unabashed adoration.
“Before I give myself to you, in any way,” she murmured, totally embarrassed by her brash, brazen behavior.
‘I am truly a bad, dirty trollop,’ she told herself with regret. ‘William will think me a nasty, bad girl,’ she assured herself sadly.
“You’re not a bad girl, you know that right?” Spike asked Buffy as he wrapped his arm about her back and shoulders. This man seemed to be able to read Buffy’s mind.
“No, I really don’t know that,” Buffy replied sorrowfully. “I think I am a very bad, dirty girl and…”
“Well, you’re not,” Spike growled. “You are an angel, Buffy,” he stated reverently. “My angel,” he added with great conviction.
“I have feelings for you, Will,” Buffy blurted out. “Strong and…”
Spike cut her off by kissing her mouth, forcefully with his. His left hand brushed her breast, tenderly. He was more then pleased when she did not pull away from him, but instead placed her hand on his and encouraged his ministrations.
“I am a bad girl,” Buffy sighed harshly against his mouth. “A nasty, dirty girl who wants an outlaw for a lo.....”
“Lover?” Spike gasped in response, his mouth still connected to hers. He couldn’t hardly believe that Buffy was warming up to him, even if he had hoped and prayed that she would.
“Maybe,” Buffy giggled coyly. “But only if you are forthright and honest with me, William Giles. And, only if I am honest and forthright with you, sir,” she continued earnestly.
“How so?” Spike asked sincerely as he stroked Buffy’s silky golden hair with his left hand.
“I need the truth from you Will,” Buffy stated firmly. “I need the truth from you and I want to tell you all of my truths. Then, and only then, can we form some kind of foundation for out feelings for each other.”
“I’ll tell you what I can,” Spike whispered fearfully. “It’s not pretty Buffy. I can promise you that, but if you need to know? I will tell you,” he finished with a sad snort.
“Tell me,” Buffy ordered gently.
A/N: I’m bushed, literally. I have to get to bed and hope that tomorrow I can get up and write more of this tale, my 1920’s fic and maybe even the other two WIP’s this weekend.
Thank you for reading this. Please review, spufette.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I promise, very soon, alot of Spuffy naughtiness!