REBEL HEARTS
Chapter 12: Part I ‘Go Away From Here’
A/N: Thanks again to everyone who is reading this!
Summary: Mmmmm, ruthless Spike in this chapter! He wants Buffy and he’s pulling out all of the stops to get her…
A second part to this chapter appears right after the end of this part I. Thanks.
Buffy realized, immediately, when she woke up the next morning that William had been right. She had a hellacious headache and her tummy felt slightly sick from it, that or she was incredibly hungry.
When she slid out of bed and stood up, she felt dizzy and unsure on her feet. However, Buffy wanted nothing more then to rinse her face and neck in the large washing bowl Mahalia had thought to fill for her. It sat on the dresser, next to it was a huge pitcher of cold water to refill it and fluffy white towels to dry with.
After Buffy had rinsed her face and neck, twice each, she ran the welcome cool liquid through her long hair. Once she dressed, she brushed her hair one hundred and three strokes, three extra for good measure and did it up in a top knot. Avoiding the urge to hide herself, once again, all day up there in her room, she slipped quietly out of the door and went downstairs.
Buffy also avoided the strong temptation to seek out William and thank him for his aid to her last night. Frankly, she was quite embarrassed by her ridiculous behavior, since she remembered rather clearly, under the circumstances, just what she had said to him. Instead, she headed right to her massive kitchen in search of Cook’s good strong, hot coffee and perhaps a good muffin or bun to fill her quesy tummy.
Spike stood, smoking as usual, on the front porch of Finnwood, looking out at the expanse of front yard that ran up to the huge gates and gate house. Captain Anderson had spent most of the morning, stomping around, barking useless orders at his Lieutenants and checking on the troops.
‘Have to look like I’m doing something important, I suppose,’ Spike shook his blonde head with a dirisive chuckle. Taking a deep drag of his cigarette, he allowed his thoughts to travel upstairs to Buffy, still enscounsed in her rather huge marital bed, he supposed.
A hard shot of jealously coarsed through his body, ‘you fucking bastard, Finn,’ he growled angrily, ‘you don’t deserve Buffy.’ He swallowed hard and looked up to where her bedroom lay, “Buffy ‘is’ mine!” His whisper was harsh and determined.
Even though Spike considered himself a true British Soldier, a good Captain, even, his heart had never really been in this whole thing. This War with the Colonies and all. Actually, he could have cared less if the Colonies had just up and left the rule of King George and England. He, Spike, only was in this place because of Buffy; his actions during this War had been feuled by bitterness and anger, and some minor sense of loyalty to England, his King, his own Father, Lord James Anderson.
If anything, because he was now fighting against Buffy’s beloved Cause, Spike had no chance of winning her affections. At least not any chance of her giving in to him, willingly that is. It hurt him, deeply, as he had loved her from the moment, in Boston, three years before, when he had first seen his Buffy stroll down that long staircase in the Gile’s family mannor.
A strong feeling suddenly came over Spike; he sensed Buffy was close by him and he tossed his cigarette on the ground. When he entered the house, he immediately headed for the parlour and sure enough, found Buffy sitting on her fine Italian blue silk chair. A cup of coffee sat on the little table next to it and she lay back in the chair, her eyes closed in repose. Her tiny hands were clasped on her lap and she seemed to be asleep.
Spike stopped dead in his tracks and just stared at the vision before him, in awe. ‘God, Buffy, you’re beautiful. You look like an angel to me, so tiny, but strong in heart and body. So very perfect for me, always. Why didn’t you meet me that night in Boston, luv? I love you so much. How different our lives might have been.’
He felt tiny tears threaten to spill and he wiped them away quickly, ‘we would have married, that night, if it were up to me. I’d have taken you back to England, you’d be my wife, now, there’d be children, at least two, probably. A son, maybe, or daughters, ones that look just like you, Princess. They would fill our lives and house with laughter and happiness.’
“You can come all the way in, Will,” Buffy called softly, her eyes still closed. “You do not have to hover about the door,” she giggled, “I am ill, of my own doing, not contagious.”
William laughed and strode over to the sofa to sit across from her. Forcing her heavy lids open, Buffy smiled softly at him, ‘he is worried about me,’ she thought, as a wave of affection for him overcame her. Brushing her own feelings aside, Buffy began thanking him for his aid the night before. That and apologizing profusely for making a fool out of herself and saying silly things to him.
“It’s all right, luv,” he chuckled as, his eyes never left hers, “you were overcome with wine, I understand, really.”
She cringed slightly, “I shall never drink, that much anyway, again. Too much alcohol and Buffy do not mix well,” she gave way to another giggle.
“But, Will,” she scowled slightly now, a serious look on her face, “there is something I must discuss with you and as soon as possible. Will you sit, quietly and listen to me? Let me tell you these things that I must and settle ‘this’ between us, once and for all?”
Spike nodded in agreement, his heart started racing in his chest. He did not like the serious tone in his Buffy’s voice, nor the somewhat sad expression on her lovely face.
“Could you please close the door, Will,” she sighed, “Mahalia and Jesse are loyal to me and do not gossip, however, there are others in the house that are not so discreet, I’m afraid.”
Now Spike really did not like the sound of this, but he closed the door and quickly returned to his seat. Buffy sat up in the chair, met his gaze bravely, even as she worried her bottom lip with her blunt little teeth.
“It is about what was said last night, what you have been saying since you came here. I cannot fault you alone, I haven’t been stern enough with you, not really. Not where my marriage and wedding vows are concerned, anyway.”
“Don’t say it, Buffy,” he murmered gruffly, never averting his eyes from her huge green ones. “Don’t tell me about how you love Riley Finn and how you need to be devoted to him. It’s a lie, you know it and so do I.”
He stood up and strode around the china table to kneel in front of her. When he placed both of his large hands on either side of her golden head, he literally trapped her in place on the chair.
“Do not do this, Will,” she whispered shakily, “you agreed to listen to ‘me’ and let me say this. Remember?” It took great effort on his part, but Spike nodded and bit his tongue, let her continue.
“I do not love Riley Finn, that is true,” she mumbled and blinked her eyes, “but, I am married to the man. I took vows in front of God and family with him, wrong or right. Now, he is not even here to defend himself to either of us, or lay claim to those vows we took together. You are a Catholic, William and as such, you know how our own Church looks on marriage vows, the sanctity of them. There can be no ‘us’ as in you and me. Ever, no matter how…”
“I’ve heard enough!” Spike growled as he clasped Buffy to him and crashed his lips against hers. She struggled against him, but he was definitely the stronger of the two of them, there was no way he’d let her go. He leaned into her, pushed her back against the chair, he was almost on top of her, “There is an us,” he hissed harshly, then he began to kiss her neck roughly.
Buffy continued to protest, violently, kept up her struggle against him, but it only served to fuel his passion even more.
“Stop this,” she cried out, but not too very loudly.
“Make me,” he rasped as he attacked her luscious, soft neck again with his mouth. Somehow, in the passion of the moment, Buffy had miraculously gained some huge amout of physical strength and she used it to fling him away from her.
Spike landed on his back against the table, splintering it as he fell. Before he could regain his senses and stop her, Buffy fled to the door.
She paused at it, turned to face him, as he finally stood up, a bit wobbly, “go away from here, Will,” she pleaded desperately. “Just please, go away.”
Buffy ran up the stairs to her room, slammed the door and locked it behind her. She slumped against it with her back and slid down, slowly until she sat on the floor.
“Just go away, please Will,” she whispered as tears began to flow freely down her flushed cheeks. “If you love me, truly, love me like you say, just go,” she continued to whimper in anguish.
“I cannot be around you any longer, not have you near me, longing for me. As I do you. So please, for both of us, just leave this house and me behind.” Her tears flowed incessantly as Buffy wept as if her very heart would break in two.
Spike lit up his cigarette and flopped back down on the fine sofa in Buffy’s very fine parlour. ‘Bitch,’ he thought angrily, ‘self-righteous little bitch!’
He took a deep, deep drag from the cigarette and allowed the smoke to curl up and around his face, for some reason, he felt a kind of comfort in it.
‘Should’ve gone after her,’ he reasoned, ‘followed her right up those fucking stairs and made her…’
“Captain Anderson,” came Lieutenant Abram’s suddenly annoying voice to break his monstrous thoughts. “Captain?” Parker repeated, “a rider came just now. From Colonel Wesley Rhys-Smythe, Sir. They appear to be orders Sir.”
Lieutenant Abrams handed Spike the papers in his hands and turned to leave. “Stay,” Spike ordered the man, “sit down,” he motioned at the chair Buffy had occupied just moments before.
Spike opened the orders with a purpose and perused the words there. Before he had reached his Superior’s fine scripted signature at the bottom of the papers, the Captain burst out into a loud, throaty laugh. Poor Parker Abrams looked at his Superior as if he’d lost his mind.
“What is it, Captain?” he asked hesitantly.
Spike sat for a moment or two, then grinned wickedly at Lieutenant Abrams, “my Ace up my sleeve, Lieutenant,” he laughed again with the shake of his blonde head. “The answere to my prayers of the last three years. Go find Jesse and have him have his wife, Mahalia, go fetch their Mistress, Buf…I mean Mrs. Finn. Tell them to inform their Mistress that I’ve received orders from my Superior and she just might get her wish.”
A/N: I split this chapter in two. The second part follows immediately after this one. It will be a short, but I hope that it will speak volumes. Please read and review, I really, really love reviews, good or bad. Thanks, Luv, Spuf
Chapter 12: Part II ‘An Offer She Could Not Refuse’
Buffy washed her face and patted it dry, gently, before going back downstairs to face William again. Mahalia had tapped softly on her bedroom door, just moments before, summoning her Mistress back to the parlour.
“Jesse says it’s important, Miss,” Mahalia had explained, nervously. “The Captain, he says you need to hear the orders he got. Somethin’ about getting your wish.”
With a sigh, Buffy brushed out her hair again, just to bide time and reknotted it up on top of her head. She trudged slowly down the stairwell, trying to regain some of her composure to face Will once more. When she stepped inside the parlour, she spied him standing up, looking out the huge window that gave vision to the entire scope of the front yard area.
“William,” she murmered softly, causing him to turn and face her.
“Shut the door, please, Princess,” he requested softly, but with a hard look on his face. Buffy did as she was requested, then walked quietly over to the sofa to sit down.
“You sent for me,” she whispered, not able to meet his blue eyes.
“That I did,” he purred silkily in a tone that caused her to flinch a little.
‘Something’s up,’ she surmised, ‘William’s up to something. He could not have calmed down about my rejection of him this quickly.’ but she sat patiently, waiting for him to continue.
William came around the sofa and stood in front of her. “I received orders from my Colonel, Wesley Rhys-Smythe, that is, my Superior.” He paused as he eyed Buffy up and down slowly, “he informs me that my troops, myself, we are needed elsewhere. We will be leaving in two days.”
The man before her had stated the fact so simply, abruptly, that Buffy was a bit startled, and saddened. She hid her treacherous dissapointment and nodded, “I see,” is all she said, still averting her eyes from his.
If William expected her to sigh in delight, or cry, she was not sure, whatever he expected, he kept an even, if somewhat odd expression on his handsome face.
“You know, Buffy, luv,” he said in a quiet voice, as he struck a match to light a cigarette. “Matches, fire really,” he continued in a monotone voice, watching the flame burn low to his fingers, “they are amazing. Fire I mean, don’t you think?”
His Buffy looked at him, puzzled, but nodded silently.
“I mean,” he went on evenly, “fire is remarkable. It cooks our food, keeps us warm, lights a cigarette,” here he lit his own smoke and blew out the flame of the match. Then, just as quickly, he struck another match, “however,” he purred entranced by the little flame, “fire can be most destructive, can’t it, luv?”
She looked at him, wide-eyed and almost frightened; Spike felt like he had all the power in the world at that moment. The match went out and Spike tossed it into a tray that sat on the splintered china table.
“As I was saying,” he began to pace slowly back and forth in front of Buffy, “fire is good, to a point. But,” he shrugged and sighed simotaneously, “it can be very, very bad and destructive, also.”
Spike felt so fucking powerful, it was intoxicating, but not near so much so as how he would feel in Buffy’s arms, he was sure. He stopped pacing, right in front of her, again and smiled like a hungry cat, “for example,” he purred again as he leaned closer to her, “one match, lit to the right place in this fine house of your husband’s, and it could start a fire so huge, that the whole farm would burn, eventually. You know?”
That got her attention he noticed.
“William!” she hissed frantically, “you would not. I know you could not. Please Will…”
He shook his head and shrugged, “orders. From my Colonel. No choice really, your husband is such a fine Continental Officer. Colonel Smythe feels we need to set an example, burn Captain Finn’s fine Plantation to the ground and…”
By this time Buffy had bolted up from the sofa and literally thrown herself into Spike’s arms. He, of course, took that opportunity to wrap them about her petite, shaking body and hold her tightly to his own tense form.
“Please do not, Will,” Buffy cried desperately, immediately hating her weakness. “I am responsible for everyone on this Farm, they’ll have no place to go, please Will!”
She considered even getting on her knees and begging this man for sanctuary of this place, the slaves, Andrew who was sick, again, upstairs in his gloomy room.
“There, there, Princess,” William cooed softly as he stroked her face, pulling the clip that held her hair up. Her long tresses fell about her shoulders and almost to her waist, Will began to stroke them.
“I know, luv,” he whispered gently, with false sympathy, Buffy now realized, “you and Andrew, you have Boston and your parents’ home to return to, after Finnwood is gone. But your slaves, servants, it’s really a pity. My poor sweet Buffy. Of course, I’m not sure how long poor young Andrew’s lungs would hold out up North in Boston…”
Buffy cringed and began to shake violently, “please Will,” she choked hoarsely, “please do not burn this Farm down. I will do anything, anything, just please, do not follow that monster’s orders.”
Buffy’s desperate pleas and offer were exactly what Spike was waiting to hear. He lifted her wet face up to meet his gaze, knowing that his eyes were boring into her emerald green orbs like fire themselves.
“There is only one thing you can do to save this Plantation, Buffy, my sweet,” he murmered as he wiped her tears, tenderly, away with his hand.
“What?” she whimpered, her eyes wide with understanding and knowledge.
“Invite me into your bed,” he responded huskily, “tonight. You do that, sweet,” he rasped, “and I swear to God above, I won’t light one match to this fine Farm.”
If he expected Buffy to swoon, get angry, push him away or even spit at him, he was delightfully surprised when she merely nodded and slipped out of his arms then headed to the door.
She opened it and called to Mahalia, “Halia, I need you in the parlour, now please,” she ordered evenly enough. Spike exhaled slowly, in relief, and watched Buffy as she averted her eyes from him and led Mahalia into the parlour, shutting the door behind them.
Buffy took a deep breath and looked straight into her beloved servant’s brown eyes.
“Mahalia, the bedroom, connected to my room; is it prepared for a guest?” The servant seemed to scowl, just for a moment then nodded vigorously, “yes Missy,” Mahalia responded, “but I’ll double check it. Freshen it up, if you want.”
William lit another cigarette, Buffy noticed, and stared at her, an odd smile on his face.
“Thank you, Halia,” she whispered. “Captain Anderson and I will be dining, privately, in that guest room tonight. I will give a menu for supper to Cook and I would like it prepared exactly as I will instruct her. I am going back upstairs to lay down for a while, but first, I wish you to come up in 15 minutes or so and see me. There are some things I need you to help me with. I would like a bath, first off and please ask Jesse to fetch a bath for Captain Anderson. Is that all right Captain,” Buffy turned to ask William, ‘so proper, are you not, Buffy,’ she mused silently.
“Yes, I would like a bath, Buffy, luv,” William answered softly with a smile, his blue eyes bore into her like fire.
‘I’ll be Goddamned,’ Spike smiled, smugly, ‘she’s going to go through with it. Sleep with me to save this fucking place. How noble of her, such a noble creature, my Buffy is.’
He felt a tug at his hard heart, a little saddened that she was only going through with this to save her undeserving husband’s Finnwood Plantation.’ Something about ‘that’ little fact bothered Spike, but he brushed aside his misgivings and his conscience, ‘Buffy is mine,’ he assured himself again. ‘She wants me, just too damn proud to admit it.’ Spike heard Buffy continue to give her servant instructions, “it’s of the upmost urgency, Mahalia,” she went on, “that only you and Jesse know of Captain Anderson’s and my dinner in the guest room, alone, tonight. Do you understand, Halia?”
The servant nodded and assured her Mistress that after they had served the supper, Buffy and the Captain would not be disturbed for the rest of the night.
“Jesse and me, Missy,” the woman nodded seriously, “we won’t tell anybody about this. Nobody’s business anyway, Missy.”
After Mahalia had left, Buffy turned to face William who had closed the gap between them and now stood right in front of her.
“You are wonderful, Princess,” he cooed lovingly as he reached out to take her in his arms.
Buffy stepped back from him and watched him tense up, then relax and rest his hands by his sides. “Is this plan to your liking, William,” she asked curtly enough, averting her eyes from his again.
“Yes,” he murmered, “thank you for the guest room. I do not want to make love to the woman I adore in her husband’s bed.”
It was Buffy’s turn to flinch, the tone in her poet, Will’s, voice seemed almost hard.
“I will take my leave from you then, William,” she turned to go. “Supper is at 6:30 PM. Jesse will bring you to the room. Good day, William.”
She left as quietly as she had entered the parlour, just minutes before.
“It seems like a lifetime from now, my love,” Buffy heard William call to her as she left the parlour door.
A/N: See, I can do short chapters, right? Well, Spike has really gone and done it now, hasn’t he? The question remains, will the two lovebirds actually go through with this, or will something (like Spike’s conscience) actually kick in and change the situation, greatly. I will give you a big hint: Spuffy is definitely in the next chapter. Thanks for reading, please review, constructive criticism is adored! Luv, Spuf
PS: My other fic ‘Make Her Own Way’ is two chapters from being finished here. I am thinking about submitting another period piece, however, I need input as to whether I should or not. It’s circa 1881 and is very long and completed. Thank you, Luv, Spuf
[Reviews - 100]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 3196 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +