Title:  The Diary of William Hart (2/?)

Author: Shiroi Karasu

Rating: R for the moment will be NC-17 soon.

Pairings: *takes a deep breath* S/Ceily S/D S/Aus S/Aus/D Aus/W S/B S/W and finally A/S/W.  Whew.  Damn Spike gets around.

Disclaimer:  I don't own these people.  I just want them to have sex.  That's all this amounts to.  Don't sue me, I'm broke. 

Summary:  The story of Spike's life from his mortal years, until after Season 7 of Buffy. 

Spoilers:  Anything and everything pertaining to Buffy.  Including the novels as mentioned before.

Authors Notes:  Mwrrr.  I took a crash course is British slang and such this week.  I swear I'm even thinking in a British accent at the moment.  Quite surly still writing in one as well.  Anyway, thank you for all the feedback and such.  I wasn't too sure about writing this, but now I think I'm really going to go through with it.

Feedback- Feedback is what makes me keep writing.  The more feedback, the better I feel, the faster I write.

2. The Beginning; A Glimpse At the Mortal

December 7, 1879-

            I have read in one of the new journals from the post that writing one's thoughts helps the creative process.  So I, William Hart III have taken it upon myself to write the world around me as I see it, in hopes that I will be able to gather my thoughts and be able to more eloquently describe what it is I feel in verse.  This form of writing is very new to me, for outside of poetry I have never written a thing aside from the occasional letter, and my schoolwork of course.

            Now to gather my thoughts, which is the point of this whole exercise.  Thoughts.  Whenever I close my eyes to think, her face haunts me.  I can't seem to get her out of my mind, be it day or night.  I write, of course, about my dearest Cecily.  Whom else would I think of with my entire being?  She is my sun, my moon, and all of the stars in my heaven.  She is my heaven, I love her with the cockles of my heart. 

            Not that she returns the gesture.  I have no delusions that she does.  I doubt she even realises that my poetry is meant for her.  I love her for her beauty and her personality, not her intelligence after all. Oh bad me, I shall not speak ill of my love.  She is quite intelligent.  It is only that her friends think me an anorak*.  With all of that against me, I am still assured that all of my pining will pay off and Cecily will fall to my charms.  I am a patient man.  I can wait.  Though I hope that it won't be long, I will be turning twenty-two this coming year, as she will be eighteen. Marrying age.

            Yes, well.  I hear mother calling me for dinner now.  I suppose this has been enough introduction into my life, my love.  I shall continue my thoughts at a later time.  I can see that this will be very beneficial. Until then.  ~William

December 31, 1879-

            It has been quite a while since I have sat to write.  We are dawning on a new decade tonight, and instead of being with my love at a party, I am here, alone.  Well mother is in the house but she offers no comfort to my young heart.  I was not invited to the gathering tonight.  Overlooked, once again.  It anguishes me more, that the aforementioned party is being held at the home of my beloved. My own heart has betrayed me to the boredom that sets in at this very hour.

            I would have liked to kiss her.  Brazen, I know, but still the same.  They say if you kiss your love on the stroke of midnight on New Years that you will be together forever.  Alas, she had denied me that chance yet again. She still denies me at every turn.  I wonder how much longer will I be able to contain myself?

            Perhaps thinking of something other than my love will make me feel better?  But as I have said before, she is all I can think about.  Some ale then, to soothe the dark thoughts that ail me.  I normally do not allow myself to turn to drink for comfort, but for some reason, on this night, I cannot help but do so.

            Here's to the New Year.  That is what the lower class says to welcome the new year as they lift their glasses and make a toast.  Though I will not admit this to anyone, the lower class intrigues me.  They have a way of speaking and acting, so unlike the way I have been taught.  I suppose their behavior is supposed to disgust me.  With their drinking and dirty habits, gambling, lack of educations, and vernaculars, it seems to disgust everyone else.  Yet it only seems to fascinate me.  I find it amazing that two completely different cultures can exist in the same city as they do here in London.  I'd like to make a study of it some day.  Perhaps learn their slang and live like they do for a while, free of the social restraints wealth has placed upon me.

            I doubt I will ever have the chance to do so.  It would cost me any standing I have with my dearest Cecily, and I dare not do anything to upset that.  Being free is only a dream.  One that I fear I will never realise, and it's just as well that I don't.  I am enough of an outcast as it is.   

            Now enough of this brooding and on to something more productive.  I believe that I shall write down a verse or two in dedication to this new year.  May it be better than the last, filled with love and luck for all.  ~William

January 10, 1880

            The winds of change are blowing, I can feel it in my bones.  London seems to be in a bustle, there is movement everywhere you turn.  I have never seen the frozen winter streets this busy before in all of my years.  I believe more has turned with this new year than just the century.  Something in the minds of every mortal has changed.  There is a type of revolution upon us.  It is quite exciting.

            I have gotten no further in my quest to win Cecily's heart.  It seems to be a never ending battle.  I went to the theatre today to see her.  Yes, it seems foolish to waste money to attend a play only to watch a girl that isn't even a part of the cast, but I assure, that I did end up watching a bit of the play as well.  It was a very well done production of Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream."  I was quite enthralled with the lead actor, he played Oberon very well.

            Of course I quite literally ran into Cecily and the intrusive Lasher after the play.  He seems to live to embarrass me in front of the love of my life.  At once I thought I could be friends with the buffoon, but now I find that it is an impossibility for he seems as take with the innocent Cecily as I am.

            My poetry has gotten better.  I know I do not gather my thoughts here often, but it is enough to keep me straight.  I believe the latest of my works will do me great justice in my quest for love.  Well it will if I manage to finish it.  I need a word that begins with the letter e…

            Enough!  I am getting nowhere.  I will spend tonight out I do believe.  The white lined streets of London are quite a site.  It is almost poetic looking at the skyline at night.  The dark sky twinkling with the stars framed by the smoking flatblocks* of London and illuminated by the light from taverns and inns.  Yes, I will walk through the park and treat myself to this sight and hopefully be inspired.  Perhaps I will once again run into the object of my obsessions… She enjoys the view as much as I.  We are very alike, my love and I.  Now if she would only see that.  I bid thee goodnight. ~William