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REBEL HEARTS


Chapter 3: ‘Big Bad Spike’


A/N: Buffy gets a bit ‘nervous’ in this chapter. Not just for herself, however.


Less then two hours after Buffy had agreed to lodge and quarter the King’s 5th Regiment, she was back out on the veranda, along with Jesse and Mahalia. Against Buffy’s better judgement, young Andrew Finn, her husband’s cousin and ward, had joined them on the porch to watch the British troops, their enemies, march right up into Finnwood and their lives. “Buffy,” Andrew coughed out, his weak lungs gasping for the life giving air, “will they shoot us?” Buffy shook her head ‘no’ firmly, more to assure herself then the boy. To herself she thought, ‘no Andrew, dear’ they won’t shoot us, but I am more concerned about the female slaves and servants.’

She had no idea just how many males were with the 5th Regiment, but men being men, she feared that they might take advantage of some of the comlier female slaves on the Plantation. Something, she had no fear of at all for herself, ‘the Commander would never allow his men to bother me, I’m sure of it,’ she reasoned. No, Buffy’s concern lay with her servants, all of them, but mainly the younger females. ‘I’ll make a bargain with this Captain Anderson,’ she surmissed, ‘strike an agreement that his men leave the women alone. I will promise ‘not’ to make a fuss about them being here, not give them any problems at all. That is, if he promises, gives me his word, that the females will not be bothered by his men.’

Spike rode up the long pathway that led to Finnwood Plantation, and Buffy, of course. He could not help but smirk all the way as he led his troops to their new lodgings. ‘Wonder what she’ll do when she sees it’s me,’ he chuckled to himself as he pondered her first reactions. ‘Run and hide?’ he scowled at the this thought, ‘nah, where would she run to. I’ll just find her anyway.’ With a hearty laugh, he spurred his fine steed to go faster, slipping his military hat from his bright blonde head. ‘She should be able to just see ‘me’ from the porch,’ he surmissed as he lay the hat before him on his saddle. “Here comes big bad Spike,” he whispered to the air, “hope you are so very glad to see me, Buffy luv.”


Flashback, Boston 1775; Spike’s POV


Lord William Anderson, who by nature was an impatient man, spoiled, but quite tough when need be, was pacing about in the Gile’s gardens. It was now almost 11:00 PM, according to his gold pocket watch, it had been his Grandfather’s, and sweet little Buffy Summers was no where in sight. “No way,” he growled to empty air, a sinking feeling in the pit of his gut, “she surely would not have forgotten. Or, worse, just not show up!” He lit another cigarette and began his slow, purposeless stride up and down the little pathway that circled the inner gardens. “Christ,” he grumbled impatiently, “she just has to show.

This woman is my dream muse. My Golden Goddess that I’ve searched for forever. Besides,” he continued taking deep drags on his cigarette, “she felt it. Our connection when we kissed, I fucking know it.” William stared up at the balcony that Buffy had left him earlier to go to. There was no light coming from the adjoining room, where William presumed Buffy had dissapeared into. “Bloody Hell!” he roared angrily as he violently stomped out his cigarette beneath his boot. “She’s not coming, the bloody little tease!”

Once he had stormed back into the Gile’s Mansion, William sought out Xander Harris immediately. Xander was emmersed in a conversation with Rupert Giles, their host, and some other men that William didn’t recognize. He could hear, even from the entryway of the grand room, bits of their conversation. ‘Bloody hell,’ William sighed in exhasperation, ‘talk of war again!’ When William had strode up to the little group to pull Xander Harris away and find out about Buffy, Rupert Gile’s motioned him closer to them all. “This is Lord William Anderson, Benjamin,” he nodded to a portly older man warmly. “Perhaps young Lord Anderson can give you some personal insight to how our Motherland views us. This is my good friend, Benjamin Franklin, Lord Anderson. A man quite put out by the King’s taxes and laws. Benjamin feels that we Colonists should be exempt from some of the King’s more questionable rulings.”

William smiled quickly at this Franklin bloke, but looked square at Xander, “where is she?” he asked his best friend, completely snubbing the older man. Xander choked on his drink and shook his head, wide eyed at his friend, “who?” he asked. William just rolled his eyes and nodded to the empty hallway, “let’s talk, mate,” he ordered Xander, evenly.

Turning to Rupert Giles and this Mr. Franklin, William nodded curtly, “nice to meet you, sir,” he finally ackowledged this intelligent looking man. Lovely party, Mr. Giles,” he shook Rupert’s hand quickly. “I’m afraid that something almost catostrophic has occurred, something personal that is, and I must take Mr. Harris with me to ‘fix’ this problem. Thank you.” With that quick dismissal of Rupert, Franklin and the other two losers with them, William pulled Xander into the empty hallway. “Where the fuck is she?” he asked Xander again, once they had reached the hallway together. “Christ, man,” Xander hissed lowly, “that was the Benjamin Franklin! Do you have any idea who the hell that man is. What he means to we Americans?”

William shook his head in frustration, “fuck ‘em. I’m interested in Buffy, where is she?” Xander eyed his friend, warily, sighed and finally answered William, “she left the party. Over an hour ago, claimed she had a headache and had Anya, along with an appropriate escort, take them home. Should have known ‘you’ were the headache William,” Xander muttered with a shake of his dark head. “Bitch,” William hissed, his eyes aflame with anger, “she stood me up. All right, mate,” William growled, glaring at his best friend, Xander, “let’s have it, where does that little cock tease, Buffy, live and how fast can we get there?”


Present Day, 1778 (that is) South Carolina


Buffy Summers-Finn stood proudly on the front porch of her missing husband’s Plantation. Mahalia, her house servant and good friend, stood next to her, clutching her Mistress’s arm tightly, while Jesse the man servant hovered about young Andrew, protectively. “I’m fine, Uncle Jesse,” Andrew whispered bravely to his surrogate Uncle, even though the man was not connected by blood to the Finns. “I know Master Andrew,” Jesse smiled affectionately down to the frail young man that now held his hand. Buffy felt her heart begin to race as the British troops made their way up closer to the house and to the occupants of the front porch.

Finnwood’s mistress felt her stomach do a flip flop and tried very hard to keep her composure. It was all well and fine to act brave, issue orders and try to give the air of complete control, but the truth was; Buffy was terrified of these turn of events. ‘Just one more mark against you, Riley, leaving us alone and vulnerable,’ she thought with resentment, even though it really was a personal blessing that her husband was gone away to War.

Buffy looked out to the right of the house and saw the entire mass of field slaves gathered together, watching the British Army advance on their home. For it was their home, too, Buffy was well aware of that. Whether by choice or not, most of these folks felt a deep, loyal bond to Finnwood, and Buffy felt sorry for them, for everything. “Look Buffy!” Andrew gasped exicitedly, “the man in front, the leader I think. He’s not even wearing his hat, look at how his hair shines in the sun. It’s almost silver!” It was Buffy’s turn to gasp when she caught sight of the silver-haired man that her ward spoke of, “oh my God!” Mahalia clasped Buffy’s arm tighter, “what is it Missy? Who is that man to you?” Buffy shot Halia a look of sheer terror, “that ‘ghost’ we talked about Halia,” she whispered, “he’s riding right up here, right now to haunt me.”

Once Spike made his way to the front of the Finn house, he was quite pleased with himself and felt an immense sense of power. This bloody war had made him, Lord William Anderson, aka Spike, into a somewhat colder man then he used to be. Although he backed his King and Country first and foremost, the things he had seen in the last couple of years, the things he had been forced to do, had hardened him greatly. But, here was the truth of the matter at hand; Spike had finally caught up with Elizabeth ‘Buffy’ Summers, and he had no intention of letting the little minx slip through his hands, ever again. ‘Who gives a bloody fuck if she’s married,’ he thought cockily to himself as he halted the troops behind him and came face to face with the object of his obsession.

‘I’ll bed her before the week is up,’ he assured himself, smugly, sliding off of his horse and sauntering up to the porch, boldly. Before he greeted Buffy, properly, he eyed her up and down, brazenly, ‘she looks good, good enough to eat,’ he smirked up at her, noting she showed no obvious signs of change. Her green eyes were wide with trepidation and downright fear, giving Spike a shot of manly tingles through his body. He, Spike had been a little concerned that perhaps Buffy might already be pregnant with Riley Finn’s brat, but from the looks of things, she was not. ‘Thank you God,’ Spike looked up at the heavens, even though he was more then sure that God had nothing to do with this little drama. “Hello Buffy, luv,” he purred reaching out to take her tiny hand in his and kiss it warmly.


A/N: Oh, Spike you big bad dude you! Now, I hope everyone reading this is not too upset with me for making Spike a less then stellar kind of guy, so far that is. I warn you, he will be more ruthless in future chapters, but he wants Buffy, period, so all bets are off! Please read and review, updates come faster with reviews (it’s the law!). Thank you, Luv, Spuf





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