"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 XVII…

Essex House…

A frowning Anya strolling the Great Hall, for the moment keeping out of sight of Shakespeare's acting company…They nervously milling about the stage, several of Essex' guards keeping watch. The audience likewise, for the overwhelming majority, feeling rather too intimidated by both the Essex men and the knowledge that the Queen's Guard might well be on their way, to leave. Though, a few remained confident that Essex would pull through…A mix of the resolute and the foolhardishly ignorant, a group led, naturally, by the Earl of Southhampton.

Though Oxford's pronouncement had had a brief lifting effect on both the doubters and the childish true believers... If a papist plot could be dredged up to cover Essex' transgressions… And only a few nobodies implicated…

Pity though that Lady Frances should have gotten involved with such treasonous stuff…

But it happens in the best of royal households…Certainly under old King Henry VIII it had happened often enough.

What to do? Anya pondered. I'm not to use anything that would draw Council or otherworld attention, nor interfere with the course of events…Too many powerful demon rivals of Lord D'Hoffryn's having too many historically developing irons in the fire to prevent a major conflict if she loused them up, not to mention other clients of her dark lord.

Still DH had insisted she could influence even via mere use of human interaction…Just a bit of subtle persuasion. And that failure, at least in terms of screwing the long-term deal, was not an option.

Though quite likely in this situation the human way would bring her a sword in the gut or imprisonment…Or even find her a love puppy of DeVere's, if she wasn't careful. A human, power-stripped-by-po'd-boss love puppy.

Well, such is the life of a vengeance demon. Kinda makes one realize why DH's had so much trouble recruiting a Slayer all these centuries.

I mean not like she needs superpowers…Even if a vd's does range a bit farther generally, if not so deep.

And she does have her Watchers' Council to assist her with magics.

No, the deal would have to be pretty sweet or pretty "only chance to save your beloved for Eternity".

"You, girl!" a guard in helmet and armor vest, bearing spear eyed her. "What are you doing about here? Get ye to the servants' quarter, now!"

"Aye, Captain, sir." She tried offering a little promotion. "But I work for the actors, seamstress, in fact."

He eyed her coolly.

"You there!" he called to one of the boy actors in woman's wig nervously glancing about from the area cleared for the stage. "This woman work with you people?"

Please, please be someone I know…Yes!

"Master Tomkins? " she gasped to him. "It's me, Anya Jenkins. I'm here to do a bit of costume repair."

"You vouch for this wench?" the guard addressed the boy who pulled back his wig a bit to eye Anya.

"Oh…Mistress Jenkins" the boy nodded. "You here for Burbage? He was screaming for some work to be done on his king's outfit earlier."

"Yes, I'm here…For Master B." she nodded.

Dick's a likely fellow to simply be pleased someone's here to do his mending…Taking it as his due the company keep me on hand for him.

"Oh, all right go…" the guard waved her along. "But stay with the help there."

Help? She and Tomkins eyed each other.

The artistic masters of English stage? The…Help?

And these fellows wonder they're so often portrayed in the theater as idiot buffoons and clownish thugs…

"Off wid ye, lass! But later I may have a bit of 'sewin' for ye." The guard leered.

Yeah, I'd love to sew it right up for you…Permanently…She hurried to join Tomkins.

…..

The well-appointed dungeons of Essex House…

"I thought I told you to fetch me husband a blanket, you vampire's cow of a girl." Anne called to the wan, watching Bella.

"Anne…" Shakespeare called.

"She killed a Slayer, she's killed innocents for him. Thrall's thrall but a woman should have a little spunk. Don't let her ooh, I'm such the victim act fool you, Will Shakespeare." Anne growled.

"I'll let the guard at the door know. Please, don't be angry with me. I can't resist him." Bella pleaded, moving off.

"There's nothing I hate more about vampires than how they make women betray themselves. Have a little self-pride, girl!" Anne called as Bella went to the door.

"She can't help it, Anne." Shakespeare noted. "We'll seen worse, you know that."

"Always when they think they've 'fallen in love'. Don't excuse her, Will. You all right?"

"This from the girl who said if I was ever taken…" Will noted quietly.

"I said only if I couldn't dust you…And I was distraught that night, thinkin' that one had nearly done you in." Anne, hastily. "Must we talk personal things before strangers?"

"Touching…" Frances noted, a bit archly. "But as to what you'd been saying before DeVere came to gloat…"

"And you ready to sell us out…For your demon baby…" Anne hissed back.

"Perfectly human…As far as Willie goes…And souled. Would you not do anything to protect your children, Mistress Anne?" Frances, sternly. "I'm a loving mother to be, I must protect my child. But I did apologize and I would have done what I could for you."

"Tis fine, my Lady, but…" Shakespeare called.

Anne fuming a bit…

"…As to what I was saying before…Regards keeping your wrath for better use. I thought we might use your desire to keep the Queen's favor but now that DeVere now knows you have an even better reason besides self-love to betray us at any price could work in our favor."

"I'm listening, Master Shakespeare."

"And not too wordy, love? The simpering cow will be back soon enough and we don't need a play in five acts." Anne groused.

….

Outside the Great Hall of Essex House, a corridor from the study where Willie had just left Essex with his urgent message to the Queen in hand…

"Is that so? A papist plot uncovered by His Lordship this very evening?" he addressed a rather content…Things looking up survivalwise for Essex, meaning jobwise for us…Footman.

"Indeed, Master Flitch. The scribbler Shakespeare, his wife, and Lady Frances Worthington were taken by my Lord's men. They sought to lay blame upon my Lord and set the Queen against him. A vile plot nipped in the bud."

Phew…His expression clear…

"Quite so…How lucky for my Lord." Willie noted calmly. "So, were they taken to the Queen's custody?"

"I believe my Lord holds them here, below, in his dungeons for examination by his and the Queena. They're lucky. Quite nice and very modern, far superior to the Queen's, meaning no offense…I know she has great costs and renovations are quite costly."

"So true. Well, a happy outcome for my Lord. I must be off." Willie patted the man's shoulder.

Jesus…No offense, I honor all religions…Willie thought. Held here, with DeVere about?

And he knows of Frances' nature…Sigh.

Well, a Watcher's duty is never done. Nor a husband's, of sorts.

Kind of her to actually marry me in secret, even if we couldn't let it get out. It was sweet how anxious she was to be an "honest woman" even if she had to keep it from the Queen.

Though long experience with women has taught me there's one compelling reason why a noblewoman would marry the commoner she's kept on with, she could have done as the others so often do and get rid of it or me or more likely, both.

So I've yet another duty to add…A loving father's…He smiled briefly as he walked down the corridor, carefully looking for the dungeon access or a servant gullible enough to show him the way.

Hmmn…Guards at the main entrance to the Hall… My pass allows me in and out of the House but may not explain why I'd be heading down here.

Still, given most of these fellows can read but little if at all…He felt for Essex's urgent letter in his pouch.

"You there? Where you be heading?" the nearest guard in bronze corset eyeing the little man in reasonably respectable but clearly commoner clothing.

"I've an urgent note for the guard in the dungeons." Willie waved the parchment letter. "My Lord's seal, see there?" he indicated the wax seal of Essex on the letter.

The guard eyed him, then a fellow guard come up to him.

"That's my Lord's seal for certain, Louis." The new guard nodded at the wax seal.

"All right…That way, the last door to the left. Mind the stairs, they're slippery." The original guard noted sternly.

"Thank ye, mate." Willie nodded.

Ok, then…

Lets just hope my Slayer isn't already worshipfully gazing up at DeVere from her knees…

He does have that rep as a soullessly soulful ladykiller. They say it's those eyes of his that gets them.

Lets see…Right, crucifix in left pocket, ok with glove to handle. That demon nature will out in such cases… Holy water vial in right, check. Nice hefty blackjack in inner pocket for the natural, check.

Not that either underworlder charm will do me much good if he confronts me, but it's a comfort to have something. As for the humans among his team, I and my little friend here should be able to deal, he fingered the blackjack in pocket.

Of course if he's harmed Frances and me child, I'll put the fear of God in him before he kills me. That much I swear. He stopped by the door indicated and opened it.

All this because a vampire wants literary fame…Geesh…

But I did read his last self-published sonnet before Shakespeare wrote one for him…I guess I'd want help too if I were that awful a poetical type.

The Great Hall, where DeVere and Essex had returned to review the changing situation…

Changing for Essex at least, and favorably if all went well.

"So you've dispatched word of all this to Her Majesty." Devere to Essex as they sat in a back row.

"I've just now sent my man with a dispatch to her. We should hear from her shortly."

Perhaps, perhaps not…Either way, I'm good.

Though it should be easier to embark on my career as England's premier literary genius if I'm not forced to do some sort of playlet involving prison or my head on the block.

Bit dangerous too with all those prayers and holy water about. And there's that risk that this one time, the King or Queen will opt for arrows instead.

Always amusing though when the crowd screams in horror at my temporarily severed head cursing them.