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REBEL HEARTS


Chapter 7: ‘Confessions’


A/N: Thank you to everyone reading this. Thank you for the reviews. If you like this story, please give my newest one a read… ‘Na Grach Croi’ as I really like it because I’m writing Buffy’s character so differently then I usually do. Thanks. Please read and review this ‘baby’ of mine. Thanks, Luv, Spuf


Spike was stomping about the front porch of Finnwood, mostly just glaring at his Officers who lingered about on the steps and chairs there. ‘Bitch,’ he hissed to himself as he thought about Buffy, upstairs probably hidden in her room, still. Buffy had stayed sequestered upstairs in her bedroom since the night before and their disasterous dinner together. ‘Probably writing that worthless fuck she’s married to, telling him how she misses him and such. Christ, makes me want to gag!’

He had worked himself into a fine fury by this time and his poor Lieutenants had taken most of the brunt of his pent up rage. “Do any of you actually do anything constructive?” he screamed at Lt. Abrams, then glared at Lt. Doyle with menance. “Why don’t you all just toddle off down to those makeshift barracks and check on your men. Think maybe you can all handle that? Or is it too much for your bloody pea brains?” The six or seven Lieutenants bolted up from their various spots on the porch and took off like lightening down to check on their men.

The truth was, Spike thought as he watched his Officers scurrying in fear away from him, that these men were the best there was. They had stuck by him, their novice Captain, through thick and thin, the horrors of war and such, never breaking ranks. Abrams was as loyal as they came and Doyle was a good man, a boy really, only nineteen-years-old and already mature beyond his years. Even gave him the nickname of Spike, because of his so called hardened attitude in this God forsaken War.

‘They’ve listened to my rot for days,’ Spike thought guiltily, ‘I have got to get myself together and ‘do’ something about Buffy.’ He strode out to the front lawn area and gazed up at what he knew to be Buffy’s bedroom window, longingly. ‘You can’t hide up there forever, luv,’ he smirked as he lit another cigarette.

“And you ‘will’ come down and join me for dinner tonight, as promised,” he muttered as he took a deep drag on his smoke. “You better, sweet. Wouldn’t want to have to drag or luscious arse down in front of my Officers and your servants, would I?” With a deep laugh, he strode off down to the barracks to see what was going on with the troops.

It was precisely 6:30 PM on that Saturday evening, Buffy noted nervously. She had spent the better part of the last hour preparing herself, in her bedroom, for dinner with William, as promised in her agreement with him. The pale blue silk dress she wore was lovely, true, appropriate enough, she supposed, for a dinner with a man who was not her husband.

Buffy tried to ignore the fact that the really quite gorgeous dress was just a tad too low in front, showed more bosom then was really wise at this point. And her hair? Why hadn’t she put it up in the top knot as she had last night? ‘Because he’ll just yank it down again,’ she thought with a shake of her head. ‘Yeah, that’s it Buffy, tell yourself that it’s pointless to do it up. He’ll just make sure it comes down, even if he has to make it so. Sure, don’t let yourself believe for one second that you want to please him.’

William was already at the dinner table when Buffy entered the dining area. He stood immediately when she neared the table and hurried to seat her himself, cutting poor Jesse off in the mean time.

“You look gorgeous, luv,” William whispered in her ear, causing an unwanted shiver down her spine. When he had returned to his own seat and Jesse had left the dining room, Buffy noticed that William was eyeing her, quite appreciatively with his bright blue eyes. “I mean it Buffy,” he began softly, his smile was dazzling, “you’re beautiful.”

His eyes traveled down her neck to her chest area slowly and Buffy was just beginning to feel a tad ‘uncomfortable’ again. That’s when his gaze halted at the Roman Crucifix that she wore about her neck. He gave her a puzzled look and tilted his head to one side. “Are you Catholic, Buffy?” he asked with genuine interest, “I thought you were Baptist or Church of England.”

Buffy snapped to at William’s inquirey, “Riley and his servants follow the Baptist doctrine,” she answered softly. “My Grandparents were straight from Armagh County in Ireland.”

“My Grandparents were Irish, settled in Boston, William,” Buffy continued matter-of-factly, “of course I was raised Catholic,” she finished with a girlish giggle that delighted Spike.

“So was I,” he grinned at her look of surprise, “my brother James and I both were, of course. My Mum was born in County Donegal, by the sea. She and Father insisted we be raised as Catholics.” Now it was Buffy’s turn to look puzzled, he noticed, “brother?” she asked confused. “I thought you were an only child, William,” she shook her head. “Where did I get that idea from?”

Spike felt a look of pain sweep across his face but shook it off and answered honestly, “I had a twin brother, Buffy. James, named after my Father, he was just minutes older then me, so he was the oldest. He died, when we were about seven or so. I lived, but that’s how I got this shock of white/yellow hair, after affect of the illness. Did you think this color was natural?” Spike chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood in this most unpleasant conversation.

“I’m sorry, William,” Buffy whispered, honestly, “for your loss and mentioning it. I don’t know why Xander Harris never mentioned that you had a brother, but…” He shook his head quickly, “Xander never knew. I don’t talk about my family much, Buffy, for many reasons.” Spike toyed with the wine glass in front of him, casually and changed the whole James subject. “How is Xander, luv,” he asked just as casually.

Buffy gave him a sad look, which startled him, ‘perhaps Xander is dead,’ he thought with genuine concern. “Xander and Anya, my second cousin, married two years ago, William,” she informed him. “I suppose that it’s natural, you not knowing and all, I’m sorry for you both. I know you were great friends once. Like I said back in Boston, this War would make enemies of all of us, even best friends. And, sadly, it has.” He felt a twinge of regret in his heart, knowing that she was right; Spike had not heard from Xander in almost three years, since the beginning of this whole mess in the Colonies.

“Xander enlisted in the Continental Army a while back. He is serving under General Washington, as is my husband,” she finished with a sigh and averted her eyes from his. Buffy noticed that William flinched at the mention of Riley, but he quickly nodded and took a good drink from his glass. “They have a baby, a son, Xander and Anya. Another one on the way,” she tried to engage him in some happier talk. It worked for he smiled at her warmly, “how old is the boy?” he asked happily. “He is nearly a year old,” she grinned shyly, “Anya writes me constantly and of course I respond as often as possible.

“I suppose old Xander went and named the child after himself,” he chuckled good-naturedly, “he always was a bit vain.”

Buffy nodded and added, “yes, they named him Alexander for his first name. They, however,” she paused a moment and then smiled at him, “gave him the middle name of William. Xander insisted on it, after his best friend.” ‘He looks as if he’s going to cry,’ Buffy thought with regret, ‘I should not have said that.’

Spike could not say anything for a few minutes and they ate their supper in silence for a while. Finally, Buffy cleared her throat and stated, “the Parrish Priest from the nearby town, he comes to say the Morning Mass for Andrew and I, here on the Plantation.

Andrew was raised Catholic also and the poor boy could never make it for Mass in the Church, so Father Rayne comes here.” He nodded at her, still visibly torn at the thought of Xander giving his only son his name as a middle one.

‘I miss him,’ he thought sadly of Harris, ‘him and that bloody sense of humour of his.’ Then he snapped out of his thoughts and asked simply, “may I take Mass with you tomorrow, Buffy. I have not been to Confession in well, forever, and it might do me some good.”

She blushed slightly but nodded at him, “of course, William. Father Rayne would not deny any believer Mass or Confession, British Soldier or not.” Buffy smiled slightly at him, evoking a grin on his part, “thanks, luv,” he murmered.

After they had finished their meal, Buffy stood to excuse herself from his company. “Supper will be at 2:00 PM, tomorrow, William,” she said evenly. “On Sunday, the entire Farm has chicken for supper, early in the day. We fry it down here. Have you ever had fried chicken, William?”

She grinned when he shook his blonde head ‘no’ and seemed puzzled again. “Then you are in for a real treat. It’s the most delicious way to have chicken, however, it’s quite fattening, I fear.”

William burst out into laughter, “no need for ‘you’ to fear ‘that’ my dear Buffy,” he smiled at her, dazzling again. “You’re just fine the way you are luv, I don’t think you could ever be ‘fat’ as you put it.” She blushed hotly, but returned his smile, again, “thank you, Will,” she giggled. “Oh, there’ll be yams also. They are native to Africa and our cook has the most wonderful way with them. They’re like a big, orange potatoe. Only better!” He suddenly got quiet and pensive and Buffy thought it best to take her leave now.

“I’ll say goodnight, William,” she whispered as she turned to leave. “Andrew likes me to read to him, although he can read better then most anyone I know. It’s our time together and I promised the next chapter of The Illiad to him tonight.”

Spike stood abruptly, “Buffy, if I may ask. What is wrong with the boy, Andrew that is?” He saw the pain in her eyes, that and fear mingled in with it.

“He was born with weak lungs, poor lad,” she sighed sadly, “some days he can barely take in enough air to survive. But he’s such a sweet boy, so kind and smart as a whip. When his parents died Riley took him in as his Ward. Everyone felt it best since South Carolina air is more condusive to his frail health. In fact, if we, Riley and I are not ‘blessed’ with children, for some reason, Andrew will inherit the entire Plantation.”

Spike watched the look of sorrow dissapear from his Buffy’s lovely face. When she had mentioned the two words, Riley and blessed, together, her expression became one of contempt. “I must go now,” she said quietly, “Andrew is waiting for me.”

“You are right, Buffy, luv,” William was grinning at her over his glass. “Chicken, fried, is the best way to eat the fowl.” Buffy smiled at him warmly, trying not to be taken with the childlike expression of joy on his handsome face. He had devoured every bite of his meal with glee and it was nice to enjoy each other’s company, especially on the Sabbath, in such a relaxed way, for once.

“Is that cinnamon, on the yams, I mean,” he asked, his face scrunched up in wonder. “Yes,” she laughed heartily, “it is, William. I guess you should know that, when you go home to England and all. Perhaps you can introduce our Southern cooking to your people there.” His smiled dissolved at that remark, his blue eyes became dark with some inner sorrow.

“There’s apple pie for dessert,” Buffy offerred softly, sipping her tea. “Thank you, Princess,” he sighed. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a minute then Buffy thought to ask, “are your mens’ accomadations acceptable? Yours and your Officers?” She had no idea why she cared so much, but she did for some reason.

“They’re fine, Buffy,” he responded shortly, “thank you.” He watched her as she nodded and went back to sipping her tea. ‘Rather be upstairs, with you, escounced in your comfortable bed, sweet,’ he mused as he watched the dainty way she set her cup on the plate before her. ‘No,’ he shook his head ruefully, ‘I’d rather find another guest room in this Castle of yours and make love to you for days, hidden from all the world. Just you and me, Princess.’

The Priest, that morning at Mass, Father Ethan Rayne, had been a nice enough bloke, Spike reasoned. A bit too good looking for a Priest, however, he felt, a twinge of jealousy had overcome him when they were introduced. ‘For an old man, and a Man of the Cloth,’ Spike surmised, ‘he’s a bit too lively and good looking for my taste. Didn’t like the way he surveyed my Buffy when he got here, either.’ Of course, Spike realized that he was being a complete arse in the matter, a Priest was not interested in Buffy Summers that way. But…

The old boy, Spike went on to remember, Father Rayne that is, had taken his Confession without batting an eyelid. Even when Spike had confessed to the local Priest that he coveted another man’s wife. In fact, Spike had made it quite clear that he intended on seducing this married woman away from her husband and home, eternal damnation be, well, let it be damned. The odd part had been, the Priest just raised his right brow and nodded with the utmost understanding.

“She is quite covetable, my son,” Father Rayne had sighed with sympathy, “Mrs. Finn that is. And I know, Captain Anderson, that you love her, deeply. I saw it in your eyes the moment I met you. However, it is a sin to covet another man’s wife. Say six Hail Mary’s and try to think on something else besides the lovely Elizabeth Finn. Even if I so believe, in fact I know that her husband is worthless, a true sinner and is certainly not good enough for her.” Spike had been stunned that the Priest had been so kind in his treatment of his own shocking confessions, but there it was.

Buffy had left upstairs to go check on Andrew, with the promise that she might join William later that evening, in the parlour. He hoped she was not just trying to placate him with false promises and all, but he accepted her word and allowed her to go see to the poor, ill boy. Leiutenant Abrams came into the parlour and saluted at Spike, “there’s a man at the front door, Sir,” he explained.

“Say’s his name is Angel O’Connor and that he is a Loyalist, devoted to England and King George. He is also one of the nearest neighbors of this Plantation, Master of Connor Pines some five miles from here. Claims to be Master Riley Finn’s best friend also. This O’Connor person, he says he must speak with you immediately Sir. Says it’s most important.”

Spike sighed gruffly, “oh all right, Leiutenant. Show this Angel O’Connor in. Then have Jesse or Mahalia fetch their Mistress. I have a bad feeling about this bloke and I want Mrs. Finn to deny or verify it.”


A/N: Well, it seems that Spike has a kind of psychic intuition about people, doesn’t it? Tee hee. Anyway, next chapter we’ll find out just how ‘bad’ Angel O’Connor really is. There will be some slight (!) Angel bashing in that one! Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spufette





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