Rebel Hearts
Chapter 9: ‘Consolation’
“Answer me!” William demanded of her, his blue eyes burned a hole right through her and into her very soul. “Tell me why you did not meet me that night, in Boston. Lie to me, if you have to, but just give me some explaination, here and now!”
Buffy was shaking uncontrollably, her body was convulsing in a near fit and she was unable to stop it. “I, I could not…” she began to try and defend herself, verbally anyway.
“I tried, but…” He roared like a human lion and pushed her back onto her bed, “liar!” he cried desperately. “If you’d truly wanted to, needed to, like I needed you to be there…you would have made it. Nothing could have stopped you, nothing, Buffy.”
He threw himself on top of her and reached up to the top of her little proper nightgown, then ripped the front of it open as easily as if he’d ripped an envelope made of fragile paper. “Mine!” he growled as he began to run his lovely mouth down her neck to her now exposed breasts.
There was an urgent rap at the bedroom door and Mahalia’s voice of reason broke the violent scene that was unfolding inside. “Missy?” Buffy’s maid called with genuine concern, “you okay in there? Jesse and me, we’re worried.”
Spike stopped his forceful ministrations on his Buffy’s breast long enough to growl, “get the fuck out of here! Buffy and me want to be alone!” His head snapped back to face her, his muse, his Goddess, his Buffy and he rasped huskily, “now, where were we?”
Buffy looked at him as if he were some kind of a monster, her green eyes were wide and frightened. It only served to spur his lust and rage on even more.
“So,” he sneered as he grabbed her right breast in his rough hand, “let’s get this straight, shall we?” He knew he was far too drunk to really understand or hear exactly what Buffy might even try to tell him, but he was past caring at this point.
Buffy was speechless, something that she had never really been before. A part of her wanted to console this tortured man, this enemy of herself and everything she believed in, now at least. The other part of her wanted to throw his taut, strong body from hers and declare her loyalty to her new found Country, her husband, no matter how undeserving he might be of it.
“Will,” she panted as he devoured her flesh like an animal, his lips were anything but gentle as he suckled her neck, just above her pulse point there.
“Please, Will,” she begged with a breathless whisper, but a strong conviction, “please stop. We will talk of this, I promise. But if you do this, force your love on me, there will be no turning back. No sanctuary, no quarter or forgiveness, for either one of us.”
He seemed to hesitate and pulled his head back to eye her, his lids half closed from pain or passion. “No sanctuary?” he asked with his blonde head tilted to the left, slightly.
From the other side of the blocked oaken door, Mahalia’s worried voice rasped, “we’re here, Missy. Jesse and me. We fetched that nice young Lieutenant Abrams. He’s here to talk some sense into the Captain.”
Buffy watched as a myriad of emotions played out on William’s handsome face. What was once passion and even anger, quickly turned to horror as he realized what he was about to do to her.
“Captain,” came Lt. Abrams strained voice from outside the bedroom door, “please, Sir. I do not think you are in the best frame of mind. Please, come back downstairs, now.”
William reared back and looked at Buffy as if he was just now seeing her, truly, for the flesh and blood woman she was. What he had almost imposed on her.
“Buffy,” he moaned, more of a gasp really, a painful rasp of guilt and regret. “It’s all right, William,” she whispered.
Then more loudly, “Captain Anderson will be out in a moment, Lieutenant. Please, everyone just go back to bed now. Jesse, Mahalia, tend to your son Jacob. Everything will be fine.”
Spike stared at Buffy, his mind was ablaze with so many emotions that he could hardly set them straight. There was lust, most definitely, and of course love. He loved her, his Buffy, so much that he had given everything up, back in England to find her again. Then there was the rage at the fact that she had betrayed him. Stood him up, back three years ago and broke his heart. He had tried to mend his beaten and cracked black heart. Came back to the Colonies, searched her out to sweep her off of her feet like some stupid, insipid poetic ponce.
“Buffy,” he whispered in horror as he stared into her golden/green eyes, so wide with confusion. Spike heard Lt. Abrams mutter something to Buffy’s house servants, something like ‘go back to bed. It’ll be fine, I assure you.’ Then he heard footsteps as they receded down the hallway and into the distance. Buffy pulled him into her arms, loosely, and held him almost tenderly.
“William,” Buffy murmered as she stroked his platinum head with her hand, “go back downstairs now. We’ll talk of this and many things, tomorrow, or the next day, but we will talk. It’s all right. Just go back down and rest in your room. Do you think so little of me, Will? That my heart is so fickle and my mind so small that I would ever try and explain my thoughts and actions to you while you are so drunk?”
William shook his head, numbly and pulled back from her and the bed they lay on. “I, I am so sorry, Buffy, luv,” he stammered in shame as he hung his head.
“All right then,” she mumbled as she pulled the torn material over her bosom and stood up from the bed. “Remove the table from the door and go to bed, Will, please. I promise, I do, that we will speak of this later.” He nodded and did as he was asked, removed the heavy table from in front of the doorway.
When he had moved the table and opened the shattered oaken doors, he turned to her. He knew his face was a mix of sorrow and guilt and he was ashamed.
“I’ll have Jesse fix your lock in the morning, Princess,” he vowed evenly. “Do not worry, your man servant will make it right. However,” and Spike looked at Buffy with all of the sincerity that his drunken state could allow, “please be sure to lock your door, every night from now on. I cannot promise that I will have any more control over myself, not where you are concerned anyway, then this night.”
Buffy nodded at him and he turned to flee the bedroom of his love and the man she was chatteled to.
Spike woke up with a mother of a headache and hangover in the morning. Lieutenant Abrams must have wisely allowed him to sleep quite late because the sun was already hovering far too far overhead to be too early. He stumbled out of his bed and realized he’d slept in his clothes. ‘Bloody hell, I’m trashed,’ he grumbled as he glanced in the wall mirror of the room. ‘Look like hell,’ he sneered at his reflection in contempt as he remembered last night and what he had almost done to Buffy. The guilt and remorse instantly became unbearable and grabbing a clean uniform, he stumbled out through the back of the house. There was a creek, a fairly large one that lay about a mile to the west of the house. Spike decided to bathe in that creek, there would be privacy and it would be good and cold. ‘Just what I need,’ he derided himself, ‘a good cold bath. That’ll wake me up.’
When he’d bathed and returned to the house, Spike found it to be unusually quiet inside. Jesse and Mahalia, who were usually already about the place, taking care of household needs, were no where to be found. Spike sensed Buffy nearby and stepped out onto the front porch. He found her there, alone on the porch bench, staring out into the distance, apparently deep in thought.
“Buffy, luv,” he whispered to catch her attention, “I…” Buffy turned to look at him, he saw right off she had been weeping, a lot it would seem. A shot of pain, sorrow and guilt swept through him and made his next words even more difficult to say, “I’m sorry Princess, about last night. About so many things and…”
Buffy was not surprised that William was here, now. She was fully aware that he had left the house and trotted off down in the direction of the creek, presumably to bathe there.
“William,” Buffy whispered sadly, “I accept your apology, but that is not why I am so sorrowful this morning. It is something else that troubles me and I am sick with worry and regret of my own.” He gave her a confused look, then joined her on the bench.
“What is it, Buffy dear?” he murmered as he gently touched a loose tendril of her hair.
“It is sad news, from the servants quarters. The woman, a field worker’s wife, Kendra was her name, she died early this morning. Her poor little baby, it was way too soon to be born and tried to come anyway. A little girl she was, Mahalia told me this at sunrise this morning, her and that poor Kendra never made it through the birth. She felt her hot tears begin again and wiped at them quickly, for some reason, she did not want Will to actually see her cry.
Spike flinched slightly when Buffy told him the sad news. ‘Isn’t that the woman Jesse told me about?’ he thought for a moment, ‘the one Riley was supposed to have been involved with?’ He resisted the dire urge to wrap his arms about Buffy and hold her tightly, ‘she knew,’ he realized. ‘Buffy knew it was true, that that poor dead child was most likely her worthless husband’s offspring.’ Buffy was watching him, his face, carefully.
“I know, William. At least, I was pretty sure anyway,” she sniffed, trying to keep from spilling tears. “It is only one of Riley’s indiscretions that Angel O’Connor threw at me that night. The poor little baby was probably Riley’s and Kendra was definitely his mistress. Oh, it’s not false pride on my part that I weep. I am sorrowful and pained because that poor little dead baby, her mother, what chance did they have? Where were their choices in this miserable existence of theirs and ours, sometimes. Men like Riley, they have all the control, make all of the decisions for everyone, even if they are poor, stupid or even evil decisions. I cry for the poor little dead baby and her sad, miserable mother, her son, Robin and her man Wood. And only feel anger and contempt for my husband, who is not even here to contend with this horrible situation he created. Coward that Riley Finn is.”
“What is worse,” Buffy’s voice shook slightly, “is that although I wish to see that Kendra and the baby get a Christian burial, I do not know who will say the words over them. Father Rayne is a good man, but he is a Catholic Priest and the servants practice the Baptist doctrine. The Bapist Minister, the one who married Riley and me, he is a cold, intolerant man. Reverend Caleb Montgomery, the village Minister, he will be scandalized to come here and eulogize them. Especially when he realizes that I plan to have the baby and Kendra buried together, in the Finn family cemetary. It is there,” she pointed to the south of the farm, on that knoll.”
Buffy noted the scowl that crossed William’s brow. “The baby, her mother,” she explained sternly, “they have as much right to be buried in the Finn Cemetary as any of the rest of the family. Besides, I have heard that Riley’s Mother was a very kind and good woman. She would have wanted it this way, too, I’m sure.”
William smiled softly at her, took her hand in his and whispered, “you are a good woman, Buffy darling. Much too good for your husband or me.”
Buffy was looking at him, with that innocent, wide-eyed stare that he loved so much. It tore at his heart, that this beautiful, wonderful woman, his own Buffy, would be enslaved to a man like Riley Finn. ‘She’s better then all of us put together,’ he thought to himself, ruefully.
“Buffy,” he said quietly, “I’m a Captain, in the British Army. As such I have the ability to eulogize at burials, especially my own fallen troops’ funerals. I’ll say the words for the baby and her mother, tomorrow. The sooner they are buried, the better for everyone. I believe the husband, Wood, he should dig the grave, the boy should attend too.”
The look of stunned gratitude that Buffy gave him ripped at his heart and mind. Spike felt like a monster himself for what he had tried to do his Buffy last night. “You would do that for me, Will?” Buffy whispered in awe, “you would do that?” Spike smiled warmly at her and tucked that loose tendril of her honey blond hair behind her ear, out of sheer habit, “I would do anything for you, Buffy, darling.”
Buffy wondered about her bedroom aimlessly. It had been just hours since William had offerred to say the Christian words for the poor lost souls, now laying in the empty building by the Finn Cemetary. She stood staring, out the window of her husband’s fine house and thought about what William had said to her earlier. ‘You are a good woman Buffy, darling. Too good for either your husband or me.’ He had said that, Will, to herself, the woman who had dissapointed him more then anyone in his life. “I would have met you, Will,” Buffy sighed, allowing more of her tears to fall, “I tried. I swear I did.”
Flashback, Boston 1775 Buffy’s POV
“It is nearly 4:00 PM,” Buffy was giggling at her maid, like a young school girl. “We should probably leave for the Parkway soon, I do not want to keep Lord Anderson waiting.”
The maid returned her mistress’s laugh warmly, “this is so very romantic Miss Buffy. Your Lord will be so pleased when you arrive. I’ll make sure to make myself scarce so you two can speak alone.” Fred winked at Buffy with glee and went about fetching Buffy’s wrap she would wear over her dress.
“Oh,” Buffy scrunched her face up, “I’d like to wear my other pink wrap, Fred. I believe I left it on the coat rack in the front hallway.” Her maid hurried out of the room to fetch the proper wrap and Buffy brushed out her long, golden hair, for the tenth time in an hour. ‘I am so excited, I can hardly think,’ Buffy hummed to herself with joy, ‘I cannot wait to see William again.’ She sighed, her lids half closed at the memory of his lips on hers.
Buffy’s sweet reverie was interrupted, rudely by a worried Fred who rushed back into her room.
“Miss Buffy!” she exclaimed frantically, “you’re Father, he’s home early from the plant. Miss,” she hesitated, her dark eyes filled with sympathy for her mistress, “he knows. About you and Lord Anderson. He is livid, Miss. Swearing and yelling downstairs like a mad man. I don’t know who could have warned him of your plan to meet the Lord. I swear, Miss, it wasn’t me and I know Gunn would never, ever betray you.”
Buffy rose from her vanity, her anxiety level had careened out of control instantly when her maid had told her of her Father’s knowledge. “Is he on his way up here,” she asked the maid nervously. Her question was answered by the roar of Hank Summer’s booming voice, right outside of her bedroom.
“Elizabeth Anne Summers!” he screamed as he entered the room.
Present Day, South Carolina 1778
Buffy sat at her present day vanity, her blonde head hung down as she focused her tearstained face on the little silver brush that lay on the table.
“You said I was a good woman, Will,” she shook her head sadly. “If you believe that, then how could you doubt that I would have done everying possible to meet you?”
A/N: Well, seems Buffy ‘did’ want to really meet her Lord in the Parkway, didn’t it? Now, the question is, will Buffy ever let Spike in on this past secret of hers? Please read and please review. Thanks for reading! Luv, Spuf
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