AN: Sorry that this took seven days instead of six. I've been so
pumped about King Arthur coming out that I haven't really worked on
anything but my sketches lately, but I did put up a whole new story! This
is much shorter than it really should have been but I was very tired and I
just felt right to stop it where I do, like the perfect commercial break.
Oh, well, enjoy!
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He was ready to rip his hair from his head. It shouldn't have been this hard, the waiting. But it was, oh heavens it was. He paced the main floor of the abandoned villa frantically, racking his brain for things to occupy him until Dawn would appear. Buffy was safe and sound he knew, still sleeping off the effects of last night's epiphany, and though that would normally mean he could sleep himself he was far too jittery. Only two days were left and then he would be able to stand before her, touch her face, feel her lips on his. Two days. And they would be the longest and hardest days of his life, he was certain.
Plans were already in motion for how it would happen, how he would reintroduce himself into her life. So many ideas had raced through his head, but they all seemed so trite when he thought them through. Groaning he walked through the main doors out onto the small patio.
"Bollocks man! When did you become such a pansy? This should be no trouble at all for you, just two days. That's all. 48 hours. Nothing you can't handle...so stop being such a nancy boy!" He berated himself, smacking himself upside the head. He was ready to continue when he heard laughter behind him.
"Boy, Spike...or should I be calling you Will? Your accent is really...quite... obvious...when you're upset!" Dawn choked out between giggles. He growled and continued walking across the patio, away from her.
"Yeah, well if you were in my shoes pet, I'm sure that Valley Girl within you would be a lot more prominent." She gasped in mock offense.
"I'm not a Valley Girl! I don't even have blonde hair!" She held up a lock of chestnut brown to prove her point but he just smirked.
"No, but you have the mentality." She grinned at him wickedly then.
"I thought this whole humanity thing was supposed to make you a gentleman? I think they messed up!" A startled shriek escaped her lips as she was suddenly upended over his shoulder and carried back across the patio to be dumped in a padded cast-iron chair. A loud 'oomph' escaped her as she landed.
"Hey, easy on the goods! Buffy will wonder if I come home battered and bruised." His eyes lightened at the sound of her name, but they darkened again as his mind whirled with the flaws of his plan.
"You didn't say anything did you pet? About even the remote possibility of me being alive? Or that you were coming to see me, or my twin, even my evil twin, or anything like that? Because I really, really don't fancy dying a third..." He was cut off as Dawn laughed.
"Relax Mr. Estrogen. She thinks I'm out with Micha. He and Amelie have been warned that if they see Buffy anywhere today, to cover for me. The last I saw of her was a mop of tousled blonde hair as she headed towards the shower to get ready for work." He nodded at her mutely before restarting his pacing. She giggled.
"All right, are you going to tell me why you made me come all the way out here to this old house and waste a day I could be spending with my boyfriend instead of you?" He looked at her a little shocked before he realized that she was just teasing him.
"Yeah, sure. Come back from the dead and this is the thanks I get? Pish posh." She laughed again and stood to hug him tightly.
"It's so good to have you back!" She sighed against him as he rubbed her shoulders, but quickly broke the embrace.
"Ok, mushiness over. I need to know the details if I'm going to be able to help you." She started to examine her surroundings then, looking at the view before taking in the sculptures and things littered fashionably about. "Umm....Spike?"
He looked up at her expectantly. "Yes, pet?"
"What is this place?" He smirked and shook his head.
"It's a house...what does it look like? Crikes, and you're supposed to be the intelligent one." She glared at him before speaking again.
"I know it's a house. But it's a rather large house, on a rather large piece of real estate, in a rather pricey area. How did you ever manage? Or is it just one of those... they don't see you, they don't care things? Oh gods...you're not into anything illegal are you?" She started to back away from him but he gripped her arms, shushing her.
"Calm down, pet. No, I'm not into anything illegal, and this is my house and mine alone." She still looked confused so he elaborated. "It was my family's home, or one of them, before I was turned."
Dawn looked at him, awestruck, and rather more confused than she had been.
"I don't get it. When you become a vampire, you're supposed to forget everything about your mortal life...so how do you remember this as your family's house? How were you able to lay claim to it?" It was his turn to sit down.
"That's the thing love, I'm not a vampire anymore. My mortal memories have been restored, and my demon ones...they're still there, just, not so prominent that I can't ignore them. Think of it as hiding them behind very thick black-out curtains."
She shook her head, still not sure she completely understood, but trying to believe him.
"So, you remember everything from your previous life then?" He nodded, and she continued. "Can you tell me about your family then?" He shook his head.
"No, I can't tell you." Her face fell.
"But I thought you said..." he offered her his hand.
"I can't tell you, but I can show you." She grasped the hand he offered and moved to follow him.
"Ok then, show me."
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A low growl escaped from the petite girl behind the bookstore counter. The current time was two p.m. and she was starting to get perturbed at the woman browsing the racks. She insisted on walking up to the counter, as if ready to buy, then walking away, before coming back a few minutes later. It was tiring and Buffy was already too tired for her own liking.
Finally the woman purchased her two books, a hefty purchase of twelve dollars...such a major decision. Buffy sighed as she checked her out. The job was helping, but nothing seemed to be able to draw her attention away from him for any length of time. Groaning she pulled her journal out and set it atop the counter. May as well take advantage of the lull in business to work out a few new story ideas.
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"This is my grandfather, and my father. This was painted just before my father married his first wife, Amelia. He's probably only about twenty." Dawn nodded, a calm smile playing across her face as she looked at the portraits hanging in the hall. There were so many of them, from as far back as five generations.
"Was that your mother? This Amelia? Or did your father marry again?" He shook his head.
"No, Amelia wasn't my mother. She did give my father two daughters, Isabelle and Maria, but she died in childbirth along with the son she was carrying a few years after Maria was born." He pointed to a picture of two beautiful women, around the ages of eighteen and twenty-one, each with dark maple hair twisted into elegant coiffures and deep, honey eyes. Dawn sighed.
"They're both so beautiful." He nodded.
"Yes, they were." He began moving down the long hallway again.
"Did you grow up with them?"
"Yes, they raised me more than my father ever could have. The true businessman he was. Never home, just around enough to get the women he married with child and then gone again." Dawn was slightly shocked at the bitterness in his tone.
"What about your mother? Which one is she?" He laughed slightly.
"Ah, that's the big secret see, my mother, apparently, or so the story goes, is the only woman my father was ever truly in love with. But she was not of the Gentry and he fell for her during his marriage to his third wife. Since it was uncouth to divorce during those times, he hired her as personal maid, and carried out an elaborate affair with her. When Gladys, his wife at the time, discovered the affair, she murdered my mother using a butcher knife she stole from the kitchen. My father never strayed again apparently." Dawn gasped, amazed at learning Spike's life history.
"But, she'd already given him you?" He nodded.
"Yes, that was how the affair was discovered. And after she was killed, Gladys pretended that I was her natural son, she apparently was unable to bear sons, and that's how I became the true heir, instead of staying the bastard that I was. It's all very twisted."
"So there aren't any pictures of your mother?" He shook his head.
"No, there is one, but you have to promise you won't freak when you see it, ok pet?" Confused, Dawn simply nodded.
"Umm...Ok."
Spike led her to a small bedroom at the end of the hall. Though lushly furnished, the furniture was sparse and spread out, but the thing that caught her attention was the rather large portrait above the bed. On it, was a portrait of a woman with long flowing raven locks that billowed around her slender neck and narrow, yet powerful shoulders. She was dressed simply, yet provocatively for a woman of her time. Her crimson skirt reached her ankles, but it was split to reveal a pair of black pants hidden beneath it. Her top was made of a single strap of fabric wound numerous times about her breasts. The truly shocking thing, however, were her hands. One wielded a sai, the other, a stake. Dawn gasped and turned to look at Spike, eyes wide.
"That's right pet...my mother was a slayer."
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He was ready to rip his hair from his head. It shouldn't have been this hard, the waiting. But it was, oh heavens it was. He paced the main floor of the abandoned villa frantically, racking his brain for things to occupy him until Dawn would appear. Buffy was safe and sound he knew, still sleeping off the effects of last night's epiphany, and though that would normally mean he could sleep himself he was far too jittery. Only two days were left and then he would be able to stand before her, touch her face, feel her lips on his. Two days. And they would be the longest and hardest days of his life, he was certain.
Plans were already in motion for how it would happen, how he would reintroduce himself into her life. So many ideas had raced through his head, but they all seemed so trite when he thought them through. Groaning he walked through the main doors out onto the small patio.
"Bollocks man! When did you become such a pansy? This should be no trouble at all for you, just two days. That's all. 48 hours. Nothing you can't handle...so stop being such a nancy boy!" He berated himself, smacking himself upside the head. He was ready to continue when he heard laughter behind him.
"Boy, Spike...or should I be calling you Will? Your accent is really...quite... obvious...when you're upset!" Dawn choked out between giggles. He growled and continued walking across the patio, away from her.
"Yeah, well if you were in my shoes pet, I'm sure that Valley Girl within you would be a lot more prominent." She gasped in mock offense.
"I'm not a Valley Girl! I don't even have blonde hair!" She held up a lock of chestnut brown to prove her point but he just smirked.
"No, but you have the mentality." She grinned at him wickedly then.
"I thought this whole humanity thing was supposed to make you a gentleman? I think they messed up!" A startled shriek escaped her lips as she was suddenly upended over his shoulder and carried back across the patio to be dumped in a padded cast-iron chair. A loud 'oomph' escaped her as she landed.
"Hey, easy on the goods! Buffy will wonder if I come home battered and bruised." His eyes lightened at the sound of her name, but they darkened again as his mind whirled with the flaws of his plan.
"You didn't say anything did you pet? About even the remote possibility of me being alive? Or that you were coming to see me, or my twin, even my evil twin, or anything like that? Because I really, really don't fancy dying a third..." He was cut off as Dawn laughed.
"Relax Mr. Estrogen. She thinks I'm out with Micha. He and Amelie have been warned that if they see Buffy anywhere today, to cover for me. The last I saw of her was a mop of tousled blonde hair as she headed towards the shower to get ready for work." He nodded at her mutely before restarting his pacing. She giggled.
"All right, are you going to tell me why you made me come all the way out here to this old house and waste a day I could be spending with my boyfriend instead of you?" He looked at her a little shocked before he realized that she was just teasing him.
"Yeah, sure. Come back from the dead and this is the thanks I get? Pish posh." She laughed again and stood to hug him tightly.
"It's so good to have you back!" She sighed against him as he rubbed her shoulders, but quickly broke the embrace.
"Ok, mushiness over. I need to know the details if I'm going to be able to help you." She started to examine her surroundings then, looking at the view before taking in the sculptures and things littered fashionably about. "Umm....Spike?"
He looked up at her expectantly. "Yes, pet?"
"What is this place?" He smirked and shook his head.
"It's a house...what does it look like? Crikes, and you're supposed to be the intelligent one." She glared at him before speaking again.
"I know it's a house. But it's a rather large house, on a rather large piece of real estate, in a rather pricey area. How did you ever manage? Or is it just one of those... they don't see you, they don't care things? Oh gods...you're not into anything illegal are you?" She started to back away from him but he gripped her arms, shushing her.
"Calm down, pet. No, I'm not into anything illegal, and this is my house and mine alone." She still looked confused so he elaborated. "It was my family's home, or one of them, before I was turned."
Dawn looked at him, awestruck, and rather more confused than she had been.
"I don't get it. When you become a vampire, you're supposed to forget everything about your mortal life...so how do you remember this as your family's house? How were you able to lay claim to it?" It was his turn to sit down.
"That's the thing love, I'm not a vampire anymore. My mortal memories have been restored, and my demon ones...they're still there, just, not so prominent that I can't ignore them. Think of it as hiding them behind very thick black-out curtains."
She shook her head, still not sure she completely understood, but trying to believe him.
"So, you remember everything from your previous life then?" He nodded, and she continued. "Can you tell me about your family then?" He shook his head.
"No, I can't tell you." Her face fell.
"But I thought you said..." he offered her his hand.
"I can't tell you, but I can show you." She grasped the hand he offered and moved to follow him.
"Ok then, show me."
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A low growl escaped from the petite girl behind the bookstore counter. The current time was two p.m. and she was starting to get perturbed at the woman browsing the racks. She insisted on walking up to the counter, as if ready to buy, then walking away, before coming back a few minutes later. It was tiring and Buffy was already too tired for her own liking.
Finally the woman purchased her two books, a hefty purchase of twelve dollars...such a major decision. Buffy sighed as she checked her out. The job was helping, but nothing seemed to be able to draw her attention away from him for any length of time. Groaning she pulled her journal out and set it atop the counter. May as well take advantage of the lull in business to work out a few new story ideas.
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"This is my grandfather, and my father. This was painted just before my father married his first wife, Amelia. He's probably only about twenty." Dawn nodded, a calm smile playing across her face as she looked at the portraits hanging in the hall. There were so many of them, from as far back as five generations.
"Was that your mother? This Amelia? Or did your father marry again?" He shook his head.
"No, Amelia wasn't my mother. She did give my father two daughters, Isabelle and Maria, but she died in childbirth along with the son she was carrying a few years after Maria was born." He pointed to a picture of two beautiful women, around the ages of eighteen and twenty-one, each with dark maple hair twisted into elegant coiffures and deep, honey eyes. Dawn sighed.
"They're both so beautiful." He nodded.
"Yes, they were." He began moving down the long hallway again.
"Did you grow up with them?"
"Yes, they raised me more than my father ever could have. The true businessman he was. Never home, just around enough to get the women he married with child and then gone again." Dawn was slightly shocked at the bitterness in his tone.
"What about your mother? Which one is she?" He laughed slightly.
"Ah, that's the big secret see, my mother, apparently, or so the story goes, is the only woman my father was ever truly in love with. But she was not of the Gentry and he fell for her during his marriage to his third wife. Since it was uncouth to divorce during those times, he hired her as personal maid, and carried out an elaborate affair with her. When Gladys, his wife at the time, discovered the affair, she murdered my mother using a butcher knife she stole from the kitchen. My father never strayed again apparently." Dawn gasped, amazed at learning Spike's life history.
"But, she'd already given him you?" He nodded.
"Yes, that was how the affair was discovered. And after she was killed, Gladys pretended that I was her natural son, she apparently was unable to bear sons, and that's how I became the true heir, instead of staying the bastard that I was. It's all very twisted."
"So there aren't any pictures of your mother?" He shook his head.
"No, there is one, but you have to promise you won't freak when you see it, ok pet?" Confused, Dawn simply nodded.
"Umm...Ok."
Spike led her to a small bedroom at the end of the hall. Though lushly furnished, the furniture was sparse and spread out, but the thing that caught her attention was the rather large portrait above the bed. On it, was a portrait of a woman with long flowing raven locks that billowed around her slender neck and narrow, yet powerful shoulders. She was dressed simply, yet provocatively for a woman of her time. Her crimson skirt reached her ankles, but it was split to reveal a pair of black pants hidden beneath it. Her top was made of a single strap of fabric wound numerous times about her breasts. The truly shocking thing, however, were her hands. One wielded a sai, the other, a stake. Dawn gasped and turned to look at Spike, eyes wide.
"That's right pet...my mother was a slayer."
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