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STAKE YOUR CLAIM


Chapter 27: ‘1917’


‘Wyoming, About May the 5th, 1917’


Spike grumbled and cursed, loudly as he tried to pull the broken fence piece up to meet the other one.

“Damn thing,” he muttered angrily, more at himself then the wood, “I’m getting too bloody old to be out here fixing this piece of crap. Bloody thing breaks, same time, every year and…”

His rant was interrupted by the sound of his wife’s, Buffy’s automobile chugging up to his spot in the far 40 acres.

‘What the hell,’ he shook his head as he dropped the hammer from his hand. Buffy never drove that damn thing, anywhere, much less to join him out here in the boondocks of their ranch. In fact, it was Buffy that had nagged him about having one of the hands go out and fix the damn fence this time. But, here she was, Buffy, his Princess, driving closer and closer to Spike.

By the time Buffy arrived and parked the auto, Spike could tell that something was terribly wrong. His wife didn’t miss a beat, she threw the auto into park and leapt out of the front seat, running to meet him.

“Will,” she cried frantically tears streaming down her still lovely little face as she threw herself into Spike’s arms.

“What is it Princess,” Spike choked out, terrified by his wife’s frantic display

“It’s Cindy’s Byron, he’s, he’s dead Will. They murdered our baby’s love.”

Buffy’s husband held her to him so tightly, she felt as if she could not breathe, “he’s dead,” she whispered again, tearfully.

Will embraced her shaking body even closer, if the was possible, then before and asked harshly, “where, when?”

Lifting her tear stained face up to meet her husband’s dark blue eyed gaze, Buffy shook her head, “somewhere called Scarpes Valley, in Europe of course. About the 12th of Apirl, they think. Killed in action, killed by mortar fire. Oh, God, Will,” she broke down again and began to weep miserably, feeling her man’s tears against her forehead.

Spike was at a loss for words, he could only hold and comfort his Buffy, best he could through his own pain. Cindy was their baby, his and Buffy’s, their little girl, their wild child as it were.

When she’d married Byron Barrington and dragged him over here to Wyoming, it was a toss up as to which of her parents, Buffy or himself was more pleased, or relieved. Better news yet, was nine months later when Cindy wired them to announce that another Gile’s grandchild was now on the planet. A boy, named Byron William Barrington. Seemed that old Byron didn’t care for the moniker of Jr. any more then Spike did. Another thing Spike had liked about his British son-in-law.

That fucking war over in Europe hit full force and Byron, who enlisted in the British Army, duty and all, insisted that his wife and young son, move back to Wyoming. He’d assured his wife, Cindy, that when it was all over, they’d return to London to live in peace and start a new life.

“Fucking wars,” Spike hissed, his voice hoarse from his own tears. “Buffy, luv,” his tone, tender again, comforting, “where’s Cindy, and the babies, right now?”

Little had Byron known, at the time, that Cindy was pregnant again, with a little girl when she returned to America. Baby Victoria (after the late Queen herself) was just a little over a year old and now, she would never meet her own Dad.

Buffy sniffled, trying to wipe her tears away, “at home, at the house. Cindy’s devestated, Will, just lost somehow. Of course the babies are too young to realize and…”

William rubbed his own eyes and gently picked his slim wife up in his still strong arms, “come now, Princess,” he murmered to Buffy as he placed her on his horse, Demonic. “We’ll ride, together back to the house, Cindy and the babies need us. Leave the car,” he ordered gently as he climbed on Demonic, behind Buffy, “I want you with me as we go back. Damn car’s fine out here, but Domonic won’t be.”

Buffy leaned back into her husband’s arms as Will spurred Demon and Cloud I’s grandchild on into a quick trot.

‘Too much death around here,’ Buffy reflected silently, ‘way too much damn unnecessary death in our lives. First Papa, then Dad Giles, then my dear Anya. Next it was Ethan Rayne and Cordelia,’ she felt a sharp pang of loss shoot through her at the thought of her friends and family that had passed. Daniel Osbourne, the older one, had died of pneumonia a few years ago.

It was about two years later that her darling Willow as a widow, left for California and had somehow, miraculously, met up with widower Xander Harris. They had married, finally, something Buffy was sure Anya would approve of.

Will’s sister, Drusilla and her husband, who never had children of their own, were lost, together, in a boating accident. They were off the coast of Africa, on Holiday and caught in a freak storm, along with old friends of Lord Wesley’s family.

She did not speak of these sad things, Buffy didn’t, as she leaned back into her dear husband’s solid chest. Buffy just closed her eyes and let the tears fall, anew, tears for this new loss and the old ones.

It seemed like hours, but it was only thirty minutes or so that Buffy and Will arrived at the house, both dreading, she was sure, to go inside. Will slid off Demonic, then reached up to help Buffy down into his arms.

As if her husband had been reading her own thoughts, all the way back to the house, Will murmered tenderly in Buffy’s ears. “We must be strong, Princess,” he whispered gently, “for Cindy and the babies. We have to be. Sad to say, but death, from age, illness or war, it’s a part of life Buffy dear. Now, it’s time for us to be strong for our baby, Cindy, and her little ones.”

Buffy broke from Will’s embrace, reluctantly, and allowed him to lead her into their home.

When Spike and Buffy entered their front hallway, young Trace, their son Will’s boy was there waiting for them. Trace’s blue eyes were sullen and pained, ‘he’s certainly old enough to understand death,’ Spike noted sadly.

“Grandpa,” the little man reached out his arms to Spike, his little voice shakey from tears, “those bad men, they killed Uncle Byron. Aunt Cindy’s so sick that she had to go to bed.”

Spike heard Buffy’s soft sob, again and felt his own heart break, once more for his little girl, Cindy. He leaned down and picked up Trace in his arms, snuggling the boy into his chest.

“I know, Trace,” Spike whispered into his grandson’s curly fair hair, “we are all so sorry for our Cindy. It’s very sad, boy,” his own shakey voice trailed off and Spike looked to his Buffy for some of her emotional support.

“Let’s go and find your Dad and Mummy, Trace darling,” Buffy cooed softly, leading Spike and his beloved bundle into the parlor.

Spike tried to ignore the crying he heard from the bedroom that his darling daughter, Cindy, had occupied since moving her little family back to Wyoming. To be safe, that’s what Byron had wanted, his family to be safe in America.

“Mom, Dad,” William, Spike’s oldest son hurried to meet them as they entered the parlour. “I made Cindy get to bed, sent the babies to my Annie, she’s at our home, with our girls. Trace insisted coming along with me, for his Auntie Cindy’s sake. My little man,” the young William Giles smiled down at his only son, who gazed up at his Father, adoringly.

“Dad,” William the younger continued, “I think you should go in, see Cindy first. She’s been asking for you.” Spike’s son and partner on the ranch gave his dad a sorrowful glance, “poor little Cindy, my poor baby sister. She’s so broken up, Dad and…”

“Go along, dear,” Buffy whispered to her husband, “I’ll be along in a moment. I need to talk to Will here, and our grandson.” Will, the elder slowly walked to his daughter’s room and knocked softly on the door, “it’s Dad, Cindy, luv, can I come in?” Cindy was heard to call out to her father and Will opened the door, entered the room and closed the door softly behind him.

Buffy turned back to her oldest son and his only boy, fresh tears in her green eyes.

“I called James and Josh, in town,” Will told his mother, “Alex went out to round them up. Thought they should be here, for Cindy and all. Told them that the children should stay home, with their wives, no need to fill the house with even more crying. Don’t you think Mum?”

“Yes,” Buffy agreed with a firm nod, “I wholly agree with you, Son. We shall have a service for poor Byron, later, after things have cooled down a bit, then the family can all gather to pay their respects. But for now…”

Will, Jr., which he was never, ever called, Jr., that is nodded, “I already talked to the cook. He’s fixing up a lot of food, for everyone. Having him make that special soup of his, for Cindy. You know my little sis, she’ll starve herself for days if she’s not forced to eat and all. Poor little thing, Mum, she’s so devestated and lost.”

Buffy frowned a moment, in deep thought. “Will, Trace,” she glanced at her son and his son, respectively, “I need a promise from you.”

The two ‘men’ looked puzzled but nodded at the formidable Gile’s matriach.

“You know, Will,” Buffy smiled softly, “you’re so much like your Dad, looks, personality, strength. Poor stupid Riley Finn called it years ago, even if he said it rather coarsely. You are the spitting image of your old man. That’s why,” she sighed wearily, “I’m going to ask you for your promise, yours and Trace’s. When I go, if it’s before Dad, I need you to be there for him. Your Dad and your Grand Dad, Trace,” she tousled the boy’s curly fair hair.

“My Will,” she shook her head, “he and I, we’ve promised to go together, but sadly, that rarely happens, I’m afraid. So please, give me your word, here and now, you’ll be there for your Father, if I go first.”

The second William Giles looked horrified for a moment, then slowly nodded at his Mother, “I promise, Mum,” he murmered. “But,” he paused then suddenly grinned warmly, “that won’t be for years, yet. However, if Dad goes before you, we promise that too, we’ll be there for you Mum. Right Trace?”

Buffy’s son smiled warmly down at his son, “right Dad,” Trace nodded firmly, “we Gile’s men, we stick together and with our family, don’t we Dad?”


A/N: A lot of testosterone in this one, I know. However, I felt it was important, being the time it takes place, the characters themselves. This story is nearly finished. Another chapter, or two, then an epilogue, definitely. Thank you to all of you who have read this tale. Please review if you like. Luv, Spuf





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