Lords And Ladies In Waiting
Disclaimer: Not mine, wish they were.
Summary: Don't think I'll tell.
Reviews: Yes, please. Love reviews more than is healthy. Readers Rock but Reviewers RULE!
A/N: Evil! WayWard Childe! You called me Evil! Thanks, you made my day. And before anyone yells at me, I just want to say that this is my fic and if I say it can happen, it can. So there.
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Faith entered the crypt fully expecting to see her favorite vampire lounging in front of his television. He wasn't. Shrugging, she moved over to the trap door and made her way down the ladder into the bedroom hoping he was waiting for her on the queen-sized bed she loved. He wasn't there either. Worried now, she sat on the edge of the bed to think a moment. She began to wish she'd known the bleached one longer than just the few days.
"Think, Faith. You overheard stuff that upset you what would you do?" She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, hands clasped together. She sagged as the answer struck. "Get drunk, of course. Try to forget it the quickest way possible. Okay, this is Spike we're talking about. Bronze or Willy's?" She stood up. A rueful smile crossed her face as she realized she'd been talking to herself again. One of the hazards of living alone, she'd discovered. She wondered briefly if Spike did it too, he seemed to spend a lot of time alone. As she climbed the ladder to go search for her vampire, she resolved to learn as much as she could about the enigmatic creature she was falling in love with.
At Giles's house, one hour later….
The Watcher slid his key into the lock with a sigh of relief. It had taken almost the entire hour he'd requested to dissuade the girls from coming home with him to find out what the strange young Englishman wanted. He'd made up some story about a long lost aunt and an inheritance before they would consent to just going home. He'd told Anya that there was no money involved just a dusty old house and rooms full of books. That had killed whatever interest all the girls had in his so-called good fortune.
He put the kettle on for a cup of tea, it had been a massive effort to resist a healthy glass of whiskey but Spike's 'You've had enough.' declaration rang in the human's ears. He'd come way too close to falling deep into alcoholism while Buffy was gone. Just as he'd pulled himself out of the bottom of the bottle, he'd decided to return to England. The children had chosen that particular time to bring her back. He'd considered leaving again but his slayer's revelations concerning her affair with Spike made him very happy he'd decided to stay. It occurred to him that he hadn't talked to Tara, it had not been possible to speak to the blonde witch privately. He would have to make sure it was done first thing in the morning.
The whistle on the kettle blew at the same time the doorbell rang. After removing the water from the heat, he answered the door. Gerald Whitestone smiled in relief when he noted that the elder Brit had managed to escape the attentions of the forward young ladies. He carried a briefcase this time, placing it on the low coffee table before taking a seat on the sofa. He looked up at Giles and smiled nervously.
"Would you like some tea?" Habits of a lifetime kicked in as Giles moved into the kitchen to set up the tray. It didn't take long to add the steaming water to the waiting leaves. He covered the tea for it to steep properly and arranged a plate of cookies to accompany the hot beverage. He added lemon, milk and honey to the tray before he carried it into the living room.
"How are you liking California? Have you been here long?" The polite questions required no thinking allowing Giles a moment to set up and pour the tea.
Gerald accepted his cup with a grateful smile. "The weather is so different from England." He stated. "I've been here about a week. I had to make sure I had the right person. This is rather sensitive information and I wouldn't have liked to give it to someone who wouldn't understand."
"Understand what exactly?" Rupert gazed purposely at the briefcase. "How did you find me?"
Gerald beamed. "The wonders of modern technology! The firm I represent had set up the internet search engines to notify them if there was ever a search into the background of William James Wordsworth. Starting with the Internet Service Provider, we were able to ascertain that the request originated at the Sunnydale Public Library. All that was required from there was a discrete inquiry into who had requested to use the computer there at the time of the search. That led me to you, Mr. Giles. His cousin, Colin Wordsworth, had done extensive research on Lord William. The rather unusual circumstances of Lord William's 'death' were a never ending source of curiosity. Apparently Lord Colin became convinced that Lord William had become…. I can't believe I'm saying this…. A vampire." He said the word vampire as if telling a children's folk tale, he really didn't believe it but was willing to humor the simpler mind.
Giles smiled briefly. "Really? I take it you don't believe in vampires." He casually sipped his own cup of tea.
The young detective blushed lightly. "The evidence seems incontrovertible. It appears that there may be some truth to it but at the same time I find it very hard to believe." He confessed.
"May I see the evidence? I trust you brought it with you." Another meaningful glance at the briefcase reminded Gerald of his task.
"Oh! Oh yes, of course." He opened the leather case and pulled a thick folder of documents from it. He handed it to Giles. "These are all copies of the originals. Those remain locked in a safe. It has taken years to compile this information and my employers would hate to see anything happen to it. Especially since Lord Colin has passed on and there is no one left to inherit the estate."
"Indeed." Giles murmured as he opened the file. Much of the information was the same as what he himself had uncovered. He smiled when he came across a photo of Spike. It had been taken many years ago, before the invention of hair bleaching products but the high cheekbones and startling blue eyes were unmistakable even in the faded black and white photo. Deeper in the file was a sketch of young Lord William, it was excellently done and the resemblance between the sketch and the photo was uncanny.
"That photograph was the catalyst for Lord Colin's search for the vampire he believed to be his cousin. He'd been intrigued by genealogy and had already begun to compile a family tree complete with as many photos and drawings of family members as he could find before he ran across this picture. Not long before he acquired this photo, he'd discovered the drawing of Lord William. He refused to believe that the resemblance was coincidental." Gerald selected a cookie as he spoke. "It made him more determined than ever to discover the true events of Lord William's demise. He was beyond shocked to find out that reports of people seeing Lord William after the funeral were abundant."
"And what led Lord Colin to believe that Lord William had been turned into a vampire?" Giles asked with some bemusement.
"There had been rumors, nothing concrete mind you, that vampires existed and had in fact plagued London at the time of young Lord William's death. The fact that the grave had been disturbed and the body missing lent fuel to the rumor that Lord William had become one of the living dead. Lord Colin's research led him to believe that Lord William had abandoned his given name in favor of a nickname." The detective's face reflected his disbelief in his story. "He believed Lord William became known as 'Spike'."
Later….
Faith made a final sweep of the cemetery surrounding Spike's crypt. She'd been searching all night for her vampire and had quickly moved from frustrated to frightened. It was almost dawn and she was exhausted. Wearily, she returned to the crypt and nodded to Clem. The peaceful demon had consented to stay in his friend's home and wait to see if the wayward blond came back.
"Is he here?" Faith asked tiredly.
Clem shook his head. "No, haven't seen him. I'm sure he's okay. He always is, I mean, Spike, he's a survivor. It takes a lot to get him down."
"Like not being able to speak?" Faith asked acidly. "I'm sorry." She apologized immediately. "I'm just tired and I'm scared. Why would he take off like that? Those bitches have a lot of explaining to do. But right now I just wanna sleep. I'm gonna take his bed. That way if he comes back I'll know it. But I seriously doubt he'll return before sunset. I'm gonna handcuff his ass to me so he doesn't do this again. Stupid vampire!"
Clem gave her an awkward hug and patted her back. "He's okay. We'd both know it if he wasn't." He soothed.
She nodded. "Yeah, I know."
Clem's red eyes watched her disappear through the trap door. He debated locking the crypt door but decided not to in case Spike was dumb enough to run through the sunlight to get in. He thought it would be more likely that his friend would use the sewer entrance downstairs but he didn't want to take any chances. Faith was a slayer, she could defend herself. It wasn't likely anyone or anything would bother her during the daytime.
Downstairs, Faith undressed and climbed into the large empty bed. She wrapped her arms around Spike's pillow and curled up in a wide awake ball of misery. It was several more hours of fretful waiting before her exhaustion caught up to her and she fell into a fitful sleep.
Angel's Crawford Street mansion…
Spike finished the last of the Jack Daniel's just as the sun began to sparkle through the trees. He hadn't planned on staying the day there but hadn't gotten motivated enough to go home. An accusation of sulking wouldn't have been off the mark as far as he was concerned. Spike could sulk with the best of them. He leaned on the window frame of a third story bedroom. It was his favorite place to hide and think when his unlife became unbearable. The small room tucked up under the eaves of the old mansion had a northern exposure so the sunlight never shone directly into the room. Spike liked that he could sit and watch the day go by in complete safety from the deadly rays. He'd moved a small bed into the room not long after Angel had relocated to Los Angeles. He didn't know why his poof of a sire retained the property but he wasn't going to complain. It gave him a place to go where no one would think of looking.
A twinge of guilt tugged at him. Faith. He'd stood her up and he knew she'd be angry at him. He sighed unnecessarily. There was another chance at romance that he'd managed to screw up. He was just drunk enough for the self-pity to kick in. He leaned out of the window and inhaled the scent from the honeysuckle vine that had stubbornly grown up the side of the building. That vine was one of the reasons he was so fond of this particular room. Unable to resist his favorite flower, he reached out an unsteady hand and plucked several blooms from the vine. Unfortunately he dislodged several bees that had been taking advantage of the early morning dew.
Spike drew back as the angry bees followed his handful of blossoms. He'd been allergic to bees as a human and a tiny part of him still feared the insects.
"Ha, vampire you little buggers, can't harm me." He muttered as he swiped at the bees as they landed on his hand and arm. He wished that he'd left his duster on when the first sting bit into his flesh. "Ow! You little bastards! Leave off!" He shook his arm as three more stings followed the first one. He dropped the flowers as his hand began to swell. Dizziness that had nothing to do with alcohol blurred his vision. He watched his arm dazedly as the swelling increased. His throat closed up in a never forgotten reaction even though he knew he didn't need to breathe. Panic set in as he fell to his knees. He knew the venom couldn't kill him but that didn't lessen his reaction and as darkness closed in on him, he remembered that no one knew where he was.
"Bloody buggering Hell." He groaned as he slumped to the floor, unconscious before he landed.
