"Twilight for Anonymous…"

Disclaimer: Not mine but thine...O, Joss!

Archived at the Cicelyverse page of the Buffy Rebecca verse, or direct to story at www...

General audience level...

Summary: In a past life of Buffy and William, a certain story- and scene-stealing vampire gets his much-deserved desserts…

Part XII…

A break as the somewhat nervous cast hurriedly reset the stage…

Lady Frances in wonder, eyeing the face of the famed Slayer seated beside her…

She's anxious…Frances stared over to the left wing where she could just manage a glimpse of Shakespeare's frowning, partially concealed face.

She's even…Afraid? Of him? She looked again…Shakespeare no longer visible.

Anne nervously glancing about, considering…

Lord, if Will goes off half-cocked now, seeking that fop of a vampire…

Fearful. For him and of him…Frances realized, watching her.

Willie's right…The Slayer does have a weakness…

Never thought I'd say this of the Slayer but…Poor thing. Poor doomed thing…

Even if she defeats DeVere, Willie's right to feel for her. She's doomed. No Slayer can survive this foe…

Love…

"I'll be back…Milady." Anne murmured, rising. Eyeing the left wing again as Jonson peered out, giving her anxious look.

"Of course, Lady Anne…" Frances, hurriedly whispered. "Hurry back if you can."

"Yes…" distant whisper as Anne hurried back.

Doomed, Frances thought.

But then, so have I been since the day I met Willie…

Thank ye, dear Frances, dear friend and partner…To let a demon share in such joy…

And, doomed as I may be since then…

I'd not trade it for life eterne…Wan smile.

Back of the improvised stage, left wing…

"Will? What's the matter?" Hemmings eyed the furious Shakespeare, Jonson at the wing's edge looking back at him, then peering out…

Damn you, girl…Shakespeare fuming inwardly, moving for the door out to the main hallway. You never leave anything to me. This one time, when it's my element…

Words being mightier for our friend DeVere here, with his lust for true Immortality.

He continued on, Jonson now in cautious pursuit. Several perplexed actors watching, eyeing Hemmings…

Something wrong?

God say he's not abandoning us to the wolves here, and more importantly, at Court?

"Will…" one of the boy actors in ladies' garb called to him…

"Will, wait!" Jonson hurrying along as Shakespeare opened door to find Bella in the hallway in her maid's outfit wanly staring at him.

"Master…Shakespeare?" she paused.

"No, no, no!" Anne in her fine dress, hair a bit askew, racing up, stake in hand…Several startled attendants in the hallway looking after her flying form...She gasping for breath…

Damned stays…Give a lass room to breathe…

"Anne." Shakespeare, grimly.

"My Lord Oxford would have you meet him…" Bella attempted to continue as Anne came to her and grabbed her, shaking, stake repocketed. Releasing her a moment later…

"You go tell that…!" Anne raged at the startled girl, now actually a shade paler.

"Ma…Ma'am…?" Bella wanly…Vaguely terrified at sight of the raging face in rather elegant dress before her…

"Anne!" Shakespeare, firmly but a touch of concern now… "She's a mere…Girl…"

"Anne!" Jonson echoed. "Don't hurt the poor thing…"

"What? No…" Anne released the shaken Bella, staring at her…Feeling herself…

"I didn't mean to harm…"

"Anne?" Hemmings had come to the door, behind Jonson…The actor still in costume.

"John…You go on in a moment…It's fine." Shakespeare noted.

"What's all that finery about…?" Hemmings noted the fine dress.

"A bit of play, that's all. Milord was kind enough to let Anne attend the play and saw she was properly dressed…It's fine." Shakespeare insisted as Anne gave hasty smile…Yo, Johnny...To Hemmings… "I'll just have a word with my missus and be right back."

"Aye, we'll be back." Jonson noted, deftly stepping out with Shakespeare…Closing door before the puzzled Hemmings could react.

"Johnny?" the actor in drag who'd spoken eyed him… "Is this trouble? I've my woman and children to worry about…"

"Leave it to Will…Lets get on with the damned thing…" Hemmings shook head. "Sooner we've done and left this place, the better off we'll be…" He listened to Burbage and several others on stage, awaiting his own cue….

…..

"You all right, miss?" Shakespeare regarded the stunned and shaken Bella who gave faint nod, slightest of smiles at his concern.

"My wife gets excited sometimes…" glance to Anne standing by Jonson.

Nice…Jonson regarded Anne in dress…And that hair askew don't detract from the vision one whit…

A lass worthy of waiting for for a few hundred years, I'd say…

Though one must consider that rather prominent element of danger in such temper, mated to Slayer's strength….

Still, Will's none the worse for wear, it seems. And any true artist must be willing to risk the phyickal for that which inspires the spirit.

And Lord knows that woman is inspirin' me right now…

"I'm fine, sir…" Bella nodded carefully. "He'd like to see you…"

"Oi! That's enough of that, William." Anne glared at Will… "Victim or willin', she's not fit to be trusted…"

And much too pretty, despite the obvious abuse and wasting away…

"Just a mo, darling…" firm tone. "Where, miss?" he addressed Bella, who seemed a bit nervous at Anne's insistent reply to Will.

"Down there, sir…The small anteroom…" Bella pointed.

"I'll go 'see' him!" Anne fumed.

"Anne!" Shakespeare, sternly. She halting, staring…

"It's me job and me duty, Will…" she paused at his look. "I can deal with him. You can't."

"Well, then? Why didn't you take him before?" he eyed her.

She frowned… "Are you doubtin' me, husband?"

"Doubting you, never…Doubting that the Slayer can best this fellow alone? Yeah." He nodded.

"He's…Very powerful…" Bella gasped. "He's waiting, sir." She returned to her bland state.

"He's hurt you, hasn't he?" Will eyed her. "Poor child." He looked her over… "It's all right…" as she moved a bit, turning head as he tried to lift her hair off her neck.

"I'm not to let any see…" she murmured. Pulling away…

"I won't make you…" Shakespeare, kindly, letting go of her hair. "He's tormented the poor girl, feasted off her no doubt."

"I've seen her about with Oxford…" Jonson noted. "She's been with him some time."

"Girl…I didn't mean to hurt you." Anne cut in, coming close…Bella backing away…

Anne…Shakespeare waved hand. She pausing…

"I've girls of me own, you know…Two living…Judith and Susan…Does your mother live yet, child?" Anne asked, trying a kindlier air.

"Yes…" Bella, wanly. "He likes to write her about me…He makes me tell her…" she paused. "I'm not a fit person anymore. That I've…Done things…"

"He's a vicious bastard…" Anne frowned.

"He's waiting, sir…." Bella turned to Will. "He'll be angry with me."

"Go tell him I'm friggin' 'angry' wid'…" Anne, calming at Will's stare.

"Well?" she eyed Shakespeare.

"Go tell the Earl I'll be right along…" Shakespeare told Bella.

Jonson reflecting…

Heroes always make for good dramatic subjects…And dead rivals are especially welcome in that regard, just so long as they're well turned into their graves.

Anne, holding tongue as Bella shyly nodded…Bella pausing as she turned away…

"He wanted her to know…The Slayer, to know…" she eyed Shakespeare.

"Course he did…" Anne frowned.

"We know…Tell him she does, please…And that I will be right along." Will smiled at her.

Anne still frowning, turning head away as Bella headed down the hall.

"The hell you are…!" she hissed fiercely as Bella moved out of earshot.

"Anne…He won't kill me, he needs my talent."

"He has it…Now you've gone and written out the bloody thing for him." She noted.

"Only the one…He wants them all, including the ones up here…" Shakespeare tapped his forehead.

Showoff…Jonson inwardly glared…

Well, Ben has a few in the oven as well, smart-ass…

"I'll deal with the likes of Oxford. You handle the words. That's our partnership." Anne, grimly.

And of course the kids, the farm, the speculatin' in grain futures, the loans we've put out, the sex and all that else…

"Yes, but he wants me and is expectin'…You." Will noted. "Lets surprise the little lord…"

"I can't bring ye back from the dead, Will Shakespeare…" Anne, angrily. "Not among me talents…"

"That's disappointin'…" he smiled. "I'd've loved to tour the undiscovered country and return."

"Words, words…" Anne fumed. "This is life, Will…Your bloody life and mine…"

No need to knock our profession, girl…Ben thought, annoyed.

Wait… 'The undiscovered country'? Metaphor for Death? Why that's brilliant…Goddamn the bastard, he does it again.

"I'll go and see him, catch him off stride since he'll be expectin' you to storm in…"

"And what, become his next serving wench? Wid' me to follow? Did I mention he'd offered me the position?"

"Nay. And as usual, you'd told me nothing of your plans here." He frowned. "If we are partners…"

She put up a hand… "I'll not be tellin' you what and how to write…Much as I'd prefer a few less 'shrews' to embarrass me…"

"That wasn't you, Anne…Well…Not all of you…" Will, slight grin at end.

"Makin' me ready to let the twit aristo vamp take ye, bastard." She glared. "But if I'll not be tellin' ye how to be about your business, then you be well to be keepin' yer nose outta mine."

"He won't kill me, Anne. He will kill you." Will noted, firmly. "But nothing says we must play the scene his way…"

"Here's the girl, comin' back…" Ben interrupted, spying Bella coming out of the anteroom down the hall.

"No doubt his Lordship has asked her to stress the urgency of the appointment…" Shakespeare noted. "Poor child, we have to do something for her…"

"Let me kill the twit…Best thing to be done for her." Anne noted.

"I can't bring ye back from the dead either, Annie…" Shakespeare eyed her. "He's ready for you, don't go chargin' in there like a fool."

"Will you forever be throwin' that one up in me face, Will? One time I was too angry…But…"

"More than once…And more than once I found and thought you dead…" he regarded her. "Let me take a bit of the risk once. You'll yet get your chance to do the savin'…You know it's the best way."

Anne staring, tears in her eyes…Will…

Shit…Jonson thought. The dramatist in me can't resist this romance while the jealous fiend demands I never allow this to see the light of day.

Well, compromise and put one Jonson in as romantic hero…Good enow.

Yet, a tale of one somewhat promising…Somewhat…Playwright's heroic and tragical demise, penned by none other than his dearest friend, Ben Jonson…The greatest playwright of English letters, ever…

Sure twould be pure gold…

Unlike that Undead twit, I've no need to steal another's work…

Borrow, perhaps…That "undiscovered country" metaphor was just too good…

I cannot understand how that wench managed to defeat so many skilled princes of the night…DeVere frowned at the flames of the fire in the anteroom's chimney. She seems as ungainly as a donkey in harness to a thoroughbred. Even if that's a bit generous to Master Shakespeare who, regardless of his admitted talent, is certainly not a thoroughbred.

Still, she clearly has something…And it was enough to capture Shakespeare…

Odd, anyone can see she's older…Was that it? The experienced country wench took our young genius by storm when young and vulnerable?

God, how thankful I am to be free of all that…Only the lust for Unlife, and by default, blood, and the lust for Immortality of the truest sort driving me now.

Lets see…He looked about the small room…

Nice, must ask Robert about his decorator before his head hits the basket…

Once she secures Shakespeare in safety, she'll no doubt try a clever entrance via the rear or even the window…Yes, nice touch…Rather than…

A knock… "My Lord?" Shakespeare's voice, rather a bit hearty…

Hmmn…

Ah…Yes…Smile…The lure…

I open and the Slayer is waiting to…

He threw the door open, quickly shifting to side, just out of sight.

"My Lord?" Shakespeare called, peering from the hall. "Your mad here asked that I come…? Urgent, she said."

"I said that…My Lord." Bella, wanly. She just beside Shakespeare.

"Edward?" Essex' hearty voice…

Oh, shit… DeVere turned to see Essex entering from the strategic rear door.

"You must come…Our friends are all a twitter over the play. Ah, Shakespeare…" Essex eyed the playwright who bowed low…

"My Lord Essex…"

"Yes…Your play's having a rather good run, I say…Though bit tough going with all the dratted thing in rhymes. My suggestion to you is to write in good stout English prose…Forget this tripping of lines about the stage."

"I shall…Consider your gracious advice, my Lord." Shakespeare noted smoothly.

"Robert…" Oxford frowned.

Really neither the place nor the time…

"Master Shakespeare and I have some…Business to attend to…"

"Yes, yes…" Essex sighed. "The mundane matters of the coin…You could have my steward attend to that. Be a good fellow, Shakespeare, and wait a bit. You'll get your payment, on my honor."

"Already well-payed, my Lord." Shakespeare noted. "Just discussing the future with My Lord of Oxford."

Future? DeVere blinked.

Why my good fellow… You have none.

"He's offered to sponsor my works…With a bit of help on the background and so forth…" Shakespeare, smiling at Oxford.

How…Clever… Oxford glared.

"Capital, captital." Essex nodded. "But lets us to more important and immediate matters…Edward? There's a rumor the Queen has spies in our midst…"

At least a half-dozen, Bob…For Heaven's sake, Eliza is her father's daughter and takes no chances…DeVere eyed him.

"And more…" Essex, betraying a hint of nervousness under the posing…

"Rumors of the Queen's Guard on the march here?" Oxford, faint smile.

Stands to reason if there are spies about us…He noted to Essex's somewhat stunned look.

"We must be seen among our friends with complete disdain for such tactics…" Essex noted, eyes flairing.

Yes, well…One of us has complete disdain…Having nothing to lose… DeVere smiled back.

"Pray let me withdraw. We can settle our business later, my Lord…" Shakespeare noted quietly.

Being clever, eh, peasant?…DeVere frowned for an instant then relaxed.

Whatever the Slayer was planning, young Robert's gone and cocked it up…Unless she wishes a public spectacle of a battle.

He does have his uses…Did…Did have his uses…

"Oh, no…" Edward smiled. "I must insist you come with us Master Shakespeare…Receive the applause of the audience and all else of that which is due you."