Chapter 6: ‘Two-Legged Wolves; Oh My!’
Summary: Buffy, through her own foolishness, escalates her predicament. Spike, ala William the Bloody Poet, spouts poetry for Buffy! Spike reveals a bit about what drives Rupert and him to be outlaws. Later, Buffy finds out more of what Spike has in mind for her and she asks Connor lots of questions.
A/N: This chapter was supposed to be more enlightening, but it got so long and I thought I’d better end it when I did.
Thanks, spuf
Buffy scampered into the small sleeping room that had been chosen for her. William, she noted, followed right after her, quietly shutting the door behind him.
“Could you please turn around, then,” Buffy asked the blond man in her hushed voice, unable to look William in the face. “I really need to take off my dress, it’s filthy and I cannot sleep…”
“Of course, kitten,” Spike replied, a slight bit of mirth in his tone, “I’d rather watch you, but if you insist. I’ll play the gentleman and turn my back.”
‘That’ll at least get you a slap you stupid git,’ he chastised himself again. ‘When will you learn to shut your mouth Giles!’
After he had turned his back to her, Buffy slipped out of the dress, ignoring the smart remark he had given her.
‘I should slap him, and hard,’ she thought, totally miffed by now. ‘Except I have already disrobed and do not dare to approach him in my under things.’ Again, she blushed profusely at the thought of sharing a room with this stranger. Even if this outlaw was sleeping on the floor.
‘He had better stay on that floor!’ Buffy fumed silently. ‘If he strays within five feet of that bed…’ She glanced at the uncomfortable looking bed, warily. ‘Perhaps it’s I that should sleep on the floor,’ she wondered briefly. ‘I just might be more comfortable on the hard wood beneath me as that awful looking thing!’
Instead, Buffy scurried into the bed, pulling the covers well over her body and right up to her neck. Clearing her throat in a ladylike way, Buffy alerted William that it was acceptable for him to turn around now.
When Spike turned, he had to keep from laughing at the scene before him. Buffy was covered, completely in sheets and blankets, her golden head peeping up at the top of the covers. Actually, it was the back of her head that stared at him, not her pretty face.
‘She’s behaving just like a virgin bride on her wedding night,’ Spike mused. ‘She ‘is’ a virgin you idiot!’ He reminded himself at the thought. ‘At least, I’m pretty sure she is,’ he nodded silently.
This little delight in the makeshift bed had better damned well be a virgin, Spike told himself. If anyone was going to deflower his future mate it was him; not some useless ponce like that ridiculous Montgomery arse. Not any other man would ever touch his Buffy like that; whether she liked it or not. Spike had made up his mind, back in Redemption, that Buffy was the woman for him and that was that. Pretty little Buffy would just have to ‘come around’ sooner or later to Spike’s way of thinking.
Spike sighed heavily and laid out the blankets he’d grabbed from Connor earlier. The floor surely seemed foreign, unappealing and quite empty to him. He wished that he could just crawl into that bed, with Buffy and spoon her little knicker-covered body to his.
After he had stripped down to his shorts, Spike slipped under the makeshift bed on the floor and settled in. As best he could that is. He sighed again, loudly, and reached for his nearby pants, pulling an already rolled up cigarette out of the pocket.
“Buffy,” Spike whispered softly into the darkness, “do you mind if I smoke a cigarette, luv?”
“No,” she mumbled in a low, hushed voice. “My Papa smokes a pipe all the time. It might comfort me to smell the familiar aroma of smoke,” she finished with a slight whimper.
‘Great,’ Spike mumbled grumpily. ‘Now I feel guilty for smoking, just because ‘her’ Da smokes a pipe and it puts her in mind of him.’ He lit the smoke anyway and took a long, deep drag.
“William?” Buffy whispered after a few moments of silence. “May I ask you something? Will you give me an honest answer, please?”
“Yes, Buffy,” Spike sighed again, “ask away and I’ll try to answer you, best as I can.”
“Are you going to ‘force’ me William?” Buffy choked out the necessary question, even though it near killed her from shame to do so.
That very question had weighed heavily on her mind. Ever since the moment William had swept her off of her feet and onto his horse that morning in Redemption. His answer would terrify her even further, of that she was fairly certain, but she had to know.
“Force you?” William asked huskily. “Force you in what way, Princess? Seems I’ve already forced you somehow. I mean to come with us, against your will and all. I’m sorry Buffy, truly. It was me that dragged you into this mess. But, I’m not sorry you’re here with me, now.”
“No, I mean really, you know, ‘force’ me into you know? Force yourself on me? In ‘that’ way,” Buffy’s voice sounded weak and strangled, even to herself.
Spike groaned inwardly, but took a deep, calming breath and swallowed very hard. “Buffy,” he began with a voice tinged with some regret. “I’m not going to lie to you, Princess,” he continued with hesitation.
“I won’t tell you pretty lies that I haven’t thought about ‘taking’ you, by force I mean. But, and I mean this,” he rambled on, “I could never force you into something like that. For a lot of reasons; mostly because I want you and me to make love, eventually that is. I don’t want to have to force you Buffy. I want you, yes, but not at the risk of destroying any future we could have together. I’ve seen what rape does to a woman, Buffy, and I don’t want you to go through that. Not even by me.”
Buffy cringed in horror at William’s brutal honesty, but she had to ask him more questions. She supposed it was her curious nature, something she was not proud of, of course. However, Buffy forged on and asked the next series of questions, hopefully in a calm, demur manner.
“Are you saying that you have witnessed a rape William?” Buffy choked out the question rather then asked it. “You, or your men out there? Have any of you…”
“No Buffy,” Spike responded quickly and with great determination. “I have never witnessed a rape, nor any of the others,” he added. “Not any of them, not that I know of, anyway. It was the aftermath of rape, the destruction physically and mentally. That I saw, sweetheart,” he continued sorrowfully. “I saw what it did to two women. Me mum and big sister that is.”
Buffy gasped in horrified shock at William’s revelation. She felt tiny, hot tears in the corners of her eyes, but tried to brush them away.
‘Oh God,’ Buffy gasped again, this time in silence, ‘his mother? His sister? Is this what drives Rupert Giles and his son so? And do I have the right to ask him this?’
“Buffy?” Spike called out, softly, into the darkness. “Are you still with me luv?”
“Yes,” Buffy whispered in response. “I just…”
“Its part of those answers, Princess,” Spike blurted out suddenly. “The ones I’m not sure me or my dad are ready to give you yet. About me mum and sister, Lord Rayne and why we do what we do.”
“Okay,” Buffy replied in a shaky voice. “I will wait until you wish to tell me more William. I am sorry for being so bold as to bring this up. It is just that I am afraid, William, very afraid for myself. My family back home and well, for a lot of reasons.”
“You don’t have to be afraid of me Buffy,” Spike murmured back to her. “But…”
“But?” Buffy asked warily of the handsome, dangerous man on the floor, just a few feet from her bed. She raised herself up on one elbow and tried to see his face in the darkness of the room.
“The others, well, Graham and maybe Holden,” Spike muttered from the darkness. “I’m not so sure about them Buffy,” he continued in a warning tone. “Holden is okay, most of the time? But he follows Graham around like a bloody puppy. Graham is a loose canon, Buffy, always has been. He saved Angel’s life once, a couple of years ago and basically? He’s untouchable as far as Angel is concerned. I just want you to be careful of them, the both of them. Graham and Holden that is. Just stick by me, okay? I’ll make sure they don’t bother you.”
“Kay,” Buffy mumbled nervously as she lay back down, her back prone on the bed. Buffy felt better, somewhat, but she was still deathly afraid of the fate that awaited her.
“Will?” Buffy broke the gentle silence between them. Her tone sounded terse and more then a little anxious, even to herself. For some reason, she simply could not stop talking, no matter how weary she was.
“Luv?” Spike asked as he took another drag on his cigarette.
“I have never slept in a room with a man,” Buffy stammered in a childish voice. “Not since I was a little girl and I would climb into my mother and father’s big bed. After a nightmare, usually, or maybe a thunderstorm. I would rush to lie next to Mama. Papa would usually recite a nursery rhyme, or maybe hum a song to me. Just to relax and soothe me,” she finished, past embarrassed by now.
“Well,” Spike drawled, comfortingly, “I can’t think of a song that’s proper for your ears, Buffy. You’re a little too old for most nursery rhymes, but I could recite a poem or two for you, yeah?”
“Oh, please do,” Buffy pleaded softly, “I would love to hear some poetry Will!”
“Okay then,” Spike stated quietly, “I’ve a poem that puts me in mind of you Princess.” He lay, still, for just a moment as he tried to recall the entire stanza of the poem he had in mind. Then, he began to recite the prose; his voice was tender, almost melodic:
(Spike’s Poem)
‘It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is overruled by fate.
When two are stripped, long ere the course begin;
We wish that one should love, the other win;
And one especially do we affect,
Of two gold ignots, like in end respect:
The reason no man knows, let it suffice,
What we behold is censured by our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight:
Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?
“That was lovely,” Buffy sighed dreamily from her post in the lumpy, ugly bed on which she lay.
“Do you know more?” she asked innocently.
“Lots more,” Spike chuckled proudly. “In fact, I’ve another by the same poet, Christopher Marlowe was his name. Do you know of him?”
“No,” Buffy shook her head sadly. “I do not, but he sounds wonderful. Please tell me about him Will.”
Spike felt a hard, but pleasant tug at his hardened heart. ‘She calls me Will,’ he thought happily. He liked that, that his Buffy felt comfortable enough with him to call him something like Will.
“Well, not much to tell about old Marlowe, luv,” he began quietly. “The man was a genius of a writer, but unfortunately sweet,” Spike continued sadly, “Mr. Marlowe was assumed murdered. At a very young age.”
“Oh no,” Buffy whimpered again, saddened by the sorrowful tale of Mr. Christopher Marlowe.
“Yeah, fraid so,” Spike continued with a sigh. “But he wrote a lot of prose before his untimely death. Would you like to hear some more, sweetness?”
“Yes,” Buffy stated firmly. “I would like very much to hear more of the unfortunate Mr. Marlowe’s works.”
Spike chuckled lowly then began to recite Christopher Marlowe’s great poem ‘The Passionate Shepard To His Love’
‘Come live with me and be my love,
And we will the pleasure prove
That hills and valleys, dale and field
And…’
Spike heard the tell tale sign of Buffy’s little mewls of slumber. His golden girl was sound asleep in the makeshift bed.
“Sweet dreams Princess,” Spike whispered tenderly to the sleeping young woman so close, yet so far from him.
‘This is going to be a long, long night,’ Spike sighed deeply. He closed his eyes and tried to rest.
Buffy woke with a start and bolted up from the unfamiliar bed she was lying in. She glanced, anxiously, out of the dingy window of the small room. The moonlight spilled through that dusky window and over the bed she had slept in. Following the moon’s light, Buffy’s gaze fell on William, asleep on the floor, not six feet from her.
The moonlight played on the blond man’s chiseled facial features, making him look like some angel to Buffy.
‘Angel indeed,’ Buffy snorted as she studied William’s face and upper body. ‘More a devil on earth,’ she reasoned. Still, with his muscular, and dare she say it, bare chest exposed above the blankets that lay over him? William did look like some painting from an art book; one of Mama’s that she kept in the attic above their house.
“Oh dear Lord,” Buffy whispered in shock as she perused William’s handsome face, so relaxed in slumber. Her thoughts confused and upset her greatly. Buffy did not like the fact that she found William Giles so very, attractive. The walls of the small room seemed to close about her, cutting off any fresh air to her lungs.
“I have got to get out of here,” she assured herself. “If only to go and relieve myself, outside in the woods.”
That was when a sudden, unpleasant thought hit Buffy, full force. What would happen, if this trip with these outlaws lasted for any length of time? Apparently, William had not inclination to let her go and if she knew her geography? The Arizona/Mexico border had to be a thousand miles from where they were now.
‘Oh dear Lord!’ Buffy groaned her face hot with shame. ‘What happens when I have my monthly! How am I going to get through that? With him?’ She glanced, anxiously again, at the sleeping blond on the floor. ‘With them!’ she now glared at the closed bedroom door, thinking of the other rough men sleeping in other rooms.
Buffy slipped out of the bed and tip- toed over to the half open window that led outside. She truly had no intention of really running off, honestly. After William’s warning about bears, coyotes and wolves? That would be the epitome of foolishness and Buffy was not a foolish girl; at least not usually.
Truthfully, Buffy was being called by nature to relieve herself and she had no choice but to answer that calling. However, she did slip the dusty dress from earlier onto her body, if only to cover herself. Right, that was it. She was just covering herself to go and answer nature’s calling; nothing more.
For some reason, Buffy thought William would be a light sleeper. However, after she slipped on her dress and slid the small window up? She was pleasantly surprised to find he was quite a solid sleeper after all.
Once she had slid out of the window and onto the cool, dark ground below her still barefoot feet, Buffy stealthily tip toed out to the nearest set of pine trees. Something inside of her, something wild and free encouraged her to continue her trek into the woods and as far away from this place as possible.
About twenty yards from the crude cabin, Buffy thought she had heard the snap of twig or something, just behind her. She turned, scanned the nearby area and once she was content that it was nothing? Buffy continued her quiet march into the deeper woods.
“Well, looky here,” came a deep, rather annoying voice from behind Buffy.
“The little doe is running from the buck, huh?” Graham chuckled wickedly as he caught up to Buffy and took her by the arm.
Buffy tried to scream when the one they called Graham grabbed her by the arm, roughly. However, the huge man covered her mouth with his meaty hand and pulled her to his strong body.
Even though she struggled, violently against him, Buffy was well aware that she could never escape this brute. Her green eyes filled with hot tears when she realized just how foolish she was to even think about fleeing in the night from the cabin.
“Don’t cry beautiful,” Graham whispered huskily. “I won’t take you back to Spike, believe me. Think I’ll keep you out here, with me, huh?” He gave Buffy a nasty smirk and pulled her even closer to his body. Graham smelled of liquor and his words were slightly slurred.
‘Oh God,’ Buffy gasped beneath Graham’s hot hand. She could feel this monster’s manhood grind into her hip and it was making her physically ill.
“What’s wrong Princess,” Graham snorted, “old Spike not enough for you? Did you feel like you had to run from him? Well, that’s bad for him and good for me, right?”
Buffy began to struggle even harder now, but Graham just laughed and pushed her up against a huge pine tree. Her back hit the rough bark of the tree with a thump and the man’s body covered hers. She was completely caught, up against the tree, with no means of escape.
Try as she might to at least knee this huge monster, Buffy could not even move an inch. Graham had her pinned so tightly against the tree and right now, he appeared to be leaning in for a kiss…
The sound of the cock of a lone gun broke the tense silence in the clearing. Graham froze still, while Buffy fearfully sought the source of the noise.
William was standing, not ten feet away from them, his gun aimed directly at Grahams big head. Buffy could, by the moonlight, see that William was more then angry; he was enraged.
“Get your fucking filthy hands off my girl, Graham,” Spike spat in a deadly calm voice. “Now,” he ordered, “or I’ll blow your worthless head off, and you know I can. I’m the best shot this gang has and I won’t miss such a big target as your bloody head.”
Graham pulled back from Buffy and let go of her. She immediately pushed past him and fled to haven, behind William. Buffy was never so relieved or happy to seen anyone in her entire seventeen years.
“Can I help it if the little skirt ran from you?” Graham growled as he turned to face Spike. “What am I supposed to do? She’s out here, running around, just makin’ herself available to anyone…”
“Shut the fuck up!” Spike roared at the stupid excuse of a man before him. “Buffy,” he continued, much less harshly, “go back inside, now. Use the window; you seem to be good at that.”
“I had to, to go, you know, Will?” Buffy stammered out the sentence, totally shamed by the whole drama that had just played out. “Nature called and…”
“Okay Princess,” Spike replied, trying not to laugh at the whole situation. Frankly, none of it was very funny. He had warned Buffy not to traipse about, outside alone and what had she done? Just that.
Besides, Spike wasn’t so naïve to think that nature was the only thing Buffy was running to take care of. No, he knew damn well that Buffy had been making a run for it, even though…
“Graham,” Spike hissed at the now stoic, taller man a few feet away, “get inside. You’re drunk, that’s obvious and Angel’s not going to be happy about this. Get your worthless hide back inside and count your blessings that Jesse and Robin were out here, on watch. Remember mate, it was you that shot the sheriff in Redemption. You should be the one most worried about us getting’ caught and a drunk man on watch is worthless and stupid.”
Graham shot Spike a murderous glance and then purposely pushed right past both he and Buffy. When the taller man passed by her, Buffy noticed he gave her an ugly leer.
“This isn’t over Spike,” Graham warned as he stormed into the cabin, through the back door.
“No,” Spike whispered in reply, “not by a long shot.”
Buffy stood, bare-footed and shivering, her heart was racing as hard as it had when Graham had hold of her. This time, however, it was for a different reason.
William was staring down at her, a confused, slightly hurt look in his blue eyes. “Didn’t I warn you Buffy?” His tone was that of a disappointed parent, speaking down to an errant school girl.
“I really had to answer nature,” Buffy whispered without any conviction at all. She could not look at the handsome blond man, for some reason it caused her guilt.
“Go on,” Spike sighed in exasperation, pointing to a dark, hidden area close by. “I’ll wait right here, back turned, no worries,” he finished with a familiar smirk.
“Okay,” Buffy whimpered softly as she scurried over the secluded spot. Making quick work of the job, Buffy noticed a little stream that flowed close by. “I’m going to wash a bit, Will,” she called out.
“Water’s cold, Princess,” Spike chuckled in response when he heard Buffy yelp a second later. ‘Warned her,’ he thought smugly.
After they got back to the room, both of them through the window; Spike sat Buffy down on the bed and then hunched in front of her. His long arms rested on his knees, tensely and he stared into her wide green eyes.
“I told you not to go out there, Buffy,” he admonished her gently. “There’s all kinds of ‘big bads’ out there. Wolves aren’t always the four-legged kind, understand yeah?”
Buffy hung her head, embarrassed to no end. She did nod in response though. William reached out and lifted her chin to meet his intense gaze.
“I can’t let you go, Princess. Do you understand? Especially not here and now. I’m afraid you’re going to Arizona with us and that’s that. Besides, kitten,” his voice was tender, but quite determined. “Even after Arizona? I intend on taking you to Mexico with me. You best get used to it, Buffy,” he finished in a whisper; a slight blush on his face.
Before she could even digest what William had just said, he leaned in and placed a gentle, chaste kiss on her lips. Buffy wanted to pull away and slap William, as hard as she could. Instead, however, she merely stared at him in stunned surprise.
Spike stood up and smiled warmly down at the shocked little treasure. “Goodnight,” he stated firmly as he turned and climbed back down into his makeshift bed on the floor.
“Goodnight,” Buffy finally choked out in reply.
When Buffy awoke the next morning, she found herself alone in the room. There was a pile of women’s clothing, neatly folded and set on the bed by her feet.
Buffy hopped up, after making sure the door was shut all the way, and quickly stripped down. She found new, decent enough looking under things, pantaloons and a camisole on top of the pile.
‘Angel holds his wife in high regard,’ Buffy thought, warmly. It touched her heart that the hardened outlaw would think to buy his wife such lovely, lady like under things. She shook her head, a bit puzzled by the contradictory nature of these men she had been thrown in with. Especially William, or Spike as he was so affectionately called.
Buffy almost hated to put on the riding skirt and crisp new shirt that Angel’s wife was supposed to get. She being a female herself, knew that this Darla might not appreciate another woman wearing a gift from her husband. However, it was just too tempting for Buffy to have a clean change of clothes and vanity alone prompted her to don the pretty, very chic little pale blue shirt.
Once she had dressed, run her fingers through her long hair and pulled on her boots, Buffy slipped out of the bedroom door. Imagine her relief when she stepped into the kitchen and found only young Connor there, at the stove of course. He seemed to be cooking, again, and Buffy could not help but smile at the earnest look on the boy’s handsome face.
“Good morning Miss Summers,” Connor greeted Buffy politely. “Sleep well?” Buffy noticed a slight smirk on Connor’s mouth and decided that William had mentioned last night’s fiasco outside.
“Uhm, yes, and please call me Buffy, Connor,” she replied nervously. “Can I help you cook,” she inquired as she joined the young man at the stove.
“Might as well make myself useful, huh?” Buffy shot Connor a hopeful look and was pleased when he grinned shyly and nodded his shaggy dark head.
The two stood in comfortable silence for a few moments and Buffy more watched the boy fix a huge breakfast for the missing men. “Where is everyone?” Buffy asked non-chillingly enough.
“Angel and Spike, most of the rest are out scouting around. Making sure no posse’s caught up with us, yet,” Connor scowled as he replied. “Uncle Rupert is off, probably reading someplace. He’s real smart, my Uncle Rupert is. Reads all the time. So does Spike, when he can.”
“Oh,” Buffy murmured to herself. “Connor,” she began with hesitation, “if I ask you some personal questions, about your Uncle and William? Will you answer me, honestly?”
“I don’t know, Miss Summers, I mean Miss Buffy,” the boy replied shyly. “If I can answer them, but then again, maybe I shouldn’t anyway?” He turned and looked down at Buffy, anxiously.
“Please Connor,” Buffy pleaded quietly with the boy. “I know you have answers for ‘these’ questions of mine and I really need to hear them. Now. I need to understand what drives your uncle and cousin to do this outlaw thing. Please tell me Connor. Tell me what happened to your William’s mother and sister. I know, from Will, that it is part of the reason they the Giles’ men are here, now.”
Connor seemed to think for a moment, and then he nodded his dark head and motioned for Buffy to sit at the table. He grabbed to mugs and a pot of coffee from the stove, poured them both a cup and sat next to Buffy.
“It started back in England, Uncle Rupert and Spike’s home,” the boy began without further prompting. “I really only know what Angel told me and I doubt if it was everything, but…”
Spike sat on a huge boulder, next to Angel, and smoked a cigarette. He tried, with great difficulty, to ignore the idiot, Graham, that leaned on the huge rock, on the other side of his cousin.
Angel was saying something, in a low, but menacing tone:
“You ever drink on watch again, Graham,” Angel warned, “Or touch Miss Summers, even look at her twice? I’ll forget that you saved my life, back in Alabama. Understood?”
“Yes,” Graham mumbled.
“So,” Spike piped in, “how we going to Nogales, Angel? I suppose Kansas is out, even if it’s the easiest? That would be a posse’s first choice to follow, right?”
“Yeah,” Angel muttered as he smoked his cigarette, thoughtfully. “I was thinkin’ that we’d go through Colorado. The winter snow’s nearly melted and I figured a posse would just let us go for sure, but…”
“Buffy,” Spike whispered in reply. “She’d never make the Rockies, snow or not,” he frowned.
“Right,” Angel nodded in confirmation. “And since we have Graham here to thank for our fucking problem,” he stopped and glared at the other man, angrily. “And,” Angel continued, “since I suppose you have no intention of letting the lovely Buffy out of your sight,” he smirked at his younger cousin. “We’d best either go with the Kansas way, or over through Wyoming and down into Utah. That’s probably the ticket, the Wyoming route.” Angel finished with a grunt and tossed his dead smoke to the ground.
“Why not Kansas?” Graham asked roughly. “If little Miss is going with us, it makes the most sense. Easiest route down around into Texas and…”
“Ever heard of Wyatt Earp and his brothers, Graham,” Angel interrupted the man with his own question.
“Yeah, kind of,” Graham replied sheepishly.
“Well, it so happens that Earp and his boys are running around Dodge City, acting as marshals there. From what I’ve heard,” Angel chuckled here, “they’ve turned that town into a damned Sunday school. I don’t want a run-in with Wyatt or Virgil Earp, Graham. You don’t either, believe me.”
Spike sat, silently, for a moment, then stubbed out his own cigarette. “You’re right Angel,” he said, “Wyoming and Utah are the best way to go. And,” he added evenly, “you’re also right about Buffy. She’s mine and I’m not letting her go, ever.”
A/N: Weird chapter, I know. I’d hoped to reveal more about the Giles’ past, etc., but this just got way too long. So next time, Connor will fill Buffy in as much as he can about Spike, Rupert and maybe even Angel and himself.
The poem is by Christopher Marlowe.
Thanks for reading, pleaser review, spuf.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
A/N: I am going to re-submit the lost three chapters of this fic this morning.
I intend on submitting a new chapter tonight, once I"ve finished it.
Thanks
I intend on submitting a new chapter tonight, once I"ve finished it.
Thanks