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: ‘Letters of Loss’ Chapter
18

‘Independent State of New Jersey, July, 1780’


Spike Anderson was not a cowardly man, never had been, never would be, however, he had never before had so much to live for. At least, that is how he saw it and now, this War nonsense was even less important to him. Somehow, he and his troops had ended up in the Colony of New Jersey, or Independent State of New Jersey, depending on how one looked at it. It was now July of 1780 and it had been almost two years since Spike had laid eyes on his Buffy, all the way down in South Carolina.
that reprobate of a husband of hers is even still fighting, alive or dead, home with my Buffy. Making love to her…’ Spike sighed sadly as he lit another cigarette and allowed the old familiar wave of jealously to wash over him. He smirked as he watched the smoke float from the stick, ‘fuckin’ things’ll probably kill me before a Patriot’s bayonette does me in,” he chuckled to himself. “Captain,” Lt. Doyle’s calm voice interrupted Spike’s thoughts, “Colonel Rhys-Smythe wishes to see you Sir.” Spike grunted and tossed the cigarette off to the side, “what the fuck now,” he hissed and followed the Lieutenant to his Superior’s quarters.


‘South Carolina, Finnwood Plantation, November, 1780’


Father Rayne sat with Buffy, in her still fine parlour, a cup of tea in front of him. In one arm, the Priest held nineteen month old tot James, in the other, the beautiful tot Joyce. Buffy eyed the letter that Father Rayne had brought to her, nervously. It was from Anya Harris, in Boston, that much Buffy could tell, miraculously, a letter had finally made it through from home. However, Buffy was less then excited about the news in it, fearing the worst, of course.

“The twins, Elizabeth,” Father Rayne cooed like a real parent, “they’re beautiful. Joyce looks like an angel and James is a handsome boy, like his father.” James smiled at Father Rayne and pointed at Buffy, who flinched, she always did, when someone mentioned the babies’ father, seeing as how only four people ‘knew’ that William Anderson was he, not Riley Finn.


“Daddy,” Joyce cooed at Father Rayne, who laughed loudly, “no, dear Joyce,” he chided the child, “I’m not Daddy.”

James pointed at his Mother again, “Mama loves us,” he crowed proudly at Buffy. “Yes, James,” Father Rayne chuckled warmly, “your Mama loves you very much.”

‘No,’ thought Buffy, suddenly, with a gentle smile as she watched Father Rayne coo at Joyce, ‘make that five people now know who James and Joyce’s father really is.’


‘Flashback January, 1780’

When Andrew Finn, Riley’s cousin and Ward, was first introduced to the twin babies, he had assumed, like everyone that the children were definitely Finns. However, around the beginning of January, Andrew and Buffy were sitting on the porch outside, watching the sun set. Andrew was holding eight month old baby James and staring intently at the child, a warm smile on his handsome, young face.

“James is such a handsome, strong lad, Buffy,” Andrew sighed, “pity you couldn’t name him William, for his Father.” Buffy was so stunned, she nearly bolted from her chair on the porch, but she had Joyce in her arms and had to stay put. “Oh, Buffy,” Andrew chuckled as he tweaked Jame’s little cheek, “I am fully aware of what a fiend my cousin, Riley was capable of being. His harrassment and evil behavior affected me, too, you know. Always said I’d die before I ever would have Finnwood. Too weak, I was, Riley would say, in mind, spirit and body.”

Buffy lowered her green eyes and began to weep softly, not over Riley, her dead husband, but over Andrew, William, everyone in her world who was in pain and loss from this War.

“Wouldn’t my Cousin just be green with envy, sweet Buffy,” Andrew chuckled again, “to see me, healthier then I’ve ever been, sitting out here on the veranda with you and Captain Anderson’s beautiful children. Buffy nodded, unable to speak from the emotional upheaval within her. “I liked Captain Anderson, Buffy,” Andrew said softly, while he seemed to scan the horizon. “I believe it was Captain Anderson that saved my life, that night when I got so sick. When we buried the poor baby and her mother.”

Again, Buffy flinched at the mention of death and buriel, there had been too much of it for the last few years and she was sick of it, angry for it.

“Don’t fear, Buffy,” Andrew reached over and patted her slim arm with his warm hand, “your Captain Anderson, nothing will happen to him. He ‘will’ come back for you, and his children. I know it, deep in my heart, I know he will be back for you all.”


‘Present Day, South Carolina’


“Are you not going to open the letter, Elizabeth,” Father Rayne scowled a bit as he eyed Buffy.

“Yes,” Buffy stammered slowly, “I am just nervous, worried, really, I fear for Xander Harris, Anya’s husband. Some bad news is in this letter, Father,” she sighed and tried to keep her nervous tears at bay. However, Buffy bravely ripped the letter opened and began to peruse it’s contents:


My Dearest Cousin Buffy,

I would like to first, congratulate you on the birth of your children, James and Joyce. I have written several times to do so, however, I fear that my letters have not gotten through to you as I have received none from you. Your Mother, Auntie Joyce told me of your blessings and I pray that you are all well down there in the Southern States.

Some sad news, I fear, my darling Xander was injured at the battle of Bull’s Ferry in the State of New Jersey in July of this year. He is, most thankfully, alive, but now has been de-commissioned from the Cause and is home with me in Boston. I thank God in His mercy for this blessing, even though my Xander lost sight in one eye from a British bayonette. Xander was hospitalized near Bull’s Ferry in a medical facility, along with other Patriots and some captured, wounded British Soldiers. General Washington has been adament that any captured British troops, if injured, must be cared for and cured, then released and sent home to their England. His words are ‘Gospel’ up here in the Northern States and are followed strictly.

My children, Alexander William (named for my Xander and you know who) and darling little Liz (named for you, of course) are fine and so happy to have their Papa back home with them. My darling Buffy, know that Xander and I, your parents and friends, here in Boston, adore you and miss you. May you find happiness, my dear, and above all, peace in your life and home.

I will try and write to you more often, as I discovered this route, through Father Rayne, to reach you, hopefully, that is. Again, all of our love, dear Cousin, and please be safe, all of you there.


Love Always,

Anya J. Harris


Buffy felt like she was going to faint dead away and nearly did. She heard Father Rayne cry out for Mahalia to come and help with her, before Buffy caught herself from slipping onto the floor.

“Is it bad news, Elizabeth?” Father Rayne asked anxiously.

“It’s my Cousin Anya’s husband, Xander, he lost an eye, up in New Jersey. He is home safe with his family now, however. Oh Father,” Buffy began to weep loudly, “William, I do not know where he is, or if he even alive.”

Father Rayne frowned then asked Buffy, “what does your heart tell you, Elizabeth? Does your heart tell you that your Captain Anderson is alive?”

Buffy nodded, miserably, “but, Father,” she sobbed, “I am afraid, afraid that he is hurt and unable to come back to me.”


‘New Jersey, December 1780 American Hospital’


“I am afraid, Captain Anderson,” some bloody American Doctor was saying to Spike, “that we have lost your Officer, Lt. Abrams, I believe was his name.”

Spike felt a shot of pain hit him and tears threatened to spill from his blue eyes. He nodded at the Doctor, who truly did look sorry about the whole thing.

“As for you, Captain Anderson,” the man pursed his lips in thought, “you were terribly wounded at Bull’s Ferry. The bayonette nearly cut your main artery of your leg. That is why we have not released you yet, to go home to England and…”

Spike bolted up from the bed, “I can’t go home to fucking England,” he hissed at the poor Doctor, “I’ve got troops, obligations. I’ve got to get back to South Carolina, to her, to Buffy.”

The Doctor nodded, sympathetically, “I know there is a woman, somewhere, in the South, CaptainBritish captives are able to travel, they be returned, immediately, to England.”

Spike sunk back down on the bed, miserable and sick at heart. He dismissed the bloody doctor with a scowl and frowned, even as tiny tears slipped from his eyes. ‘Fuck military orders,’ he muttered, as he wiped his eyes angrily, ‘I’m going back to Buffy, the minute I get out of this rathole.’


A/N: If you have been following this fiction, I know that my military, religious and historical facts are probably a bit skewed, sorry. For plot’s sake, I had to have Spike and Xander end up wounded together. Okay, that said, thank you all for reading this fiction and sticking with it. Please read and review, even if it is to ‘spank’ me for misrepresenting historical facts and all.
Luv, Spuf





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