The Vampire as Metaphor...from the (Semi) Complete Works of William Soames Walthrop...
PG 13
Summary: A lost work of one William Soames Walthrop (...aka Spike) as it was delivered at one of Cicely Addams' house parties, shortly before Will's demise. See the reference to it in "Drusilla"...
Disclaimer: All BTVS characters remain the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and all other owner/creators of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer series...
Contributions to the recovery of the lost works of England's third worst poet are always welcomed...
Part XVIII…
"I can't imagine a more dreadful thing..." Olive was noting to a passenger, a large man just emerged from his berth on the train's stopping. He in unbuttoned waistcoat, but fortunately having worn pants and shirt to his bed, apologizing for his state of undress while inquiring if the lady and her friend knew of the cause of the sudden halting…
A few heads poking out of various berths...
"My friend Count Vladimir...A traveler from Rumania..." Vladimir in his suit just behind Olive in the car, politely bowing… "Actually saw the poor man fall, crossing to the baggage car." she daubed eyes gently. "Naturally we hailed a conductor and he stopped the train."
"And no word of the poor fellow's fate…?" the large man asked...Several other passengers, now dressed, emerging.
Hmmn...No Slayer as yet… Olive noted. "Not as yet...But I'm afraid Vladimir..." she turned to Vladimir who had been gallantly helping a young woman out of her upper berth, smiling to her eager thanks.
Yes, charming...But play- and dining-time later, you vampiral degenerate… "...was fairly certain the man must have been killed. Right, Count?" she eyed him.
"Ah, yes. I'm afraid he fell into the train and I've little hope he survived." Vladimir shook head. "I only wish I'd been closer to the door and able to reach him..."
"It's very dangerous to cross over between cars, especially at night..." the woman, a lovely brunette, in simple but elegant traveling dress, noted. "But it was brave of you to try and help him, sir." warm smile.
"Wasn't it?" Olive nodded, coy smile to Vladimir. Eyeing the woman as she smiled at Vladimir's pleased smile to her...Many thanks, dear lady, but...
Single woman, traveling West...Quick enough to throw on some perfume…Dress in place and ready for business at any hour.
My boy...She grinned slightly...You are being solicited by a professional.
A fairly high class one too...She must be seeking new opportunity in the golden West.
"Carin Sinclair...Count?"
"Vladimir de la Cule" Vladimir offered his traveling name. "And my..."
"Secretary...I handle the Count's papers for his writing and his correspondence and such..." Olive offered a hand. "Olivia Giles, very nice to meet you."
"Charmed...So you are a writer, Count?" Miss Sinclair returned to him.
Hmmn...Not bad, my dear…He eyed Olive's sly smile…
Take it and run, Count de la Cule…
Hell, I'm hardly one to deny a fellow female a chance to earn her bread...Nor a fellow vampire his feeding…
Especially if it might lead to rather amusing physical aliments...Though to be fair, she seems quite healthy. I'd say a graduate of one of New York's finer brothels.
Of course I may as well pursue my own dinner...She turned back to the large fellow passenger who'd been informing one of those with head emerged from berth, an older woman in nightdress, as to the situation as best he knew…
"You weren't injured by the stopping…?" she asked him, concerned tone.
"Oh, no...Just shaken a bit. Though sorry again not being quite up to snuff for ladies." he noted, now in process of pulling on his coat taken from berth.
"Not at all...Propriety should always give way to circumstances..." she beamed.
"So your friend's a count…?" he indicated Vladimir, now engaged in conversation with Miss Sinclair.
"Hmmn-hmmn...From Rumania, in Eastern Europe. He's traveling through America, writing about the country and people..." she noted.
"And you're his secretary? British, aren't you? I recognize the accent."
"Guilty on both counts. Have you traveled abroad?"
"Some bit...I deal in arms...Guns, powder...Naval guns too, so I was in Liverpool pushing ours to your Navy. Heading to Frisco for a special contract...Navy wants to plant some of our guns in a couple of forts."
"Really?" Olive regarded him. "Is there danger of another war?"
"I hope not...Doubt it, really. We've pretty much chased the Frenchies out of Mexico now and the Brits...No offense...Aren't looking to mess with us just now. It's more for potential, ya know. Gotta cover all the possibilities."
Hmmn...Right, profiteering off arms even in peace.
"Just good to be prepared...I mean I think things with your lot are ok since the war ended and there's no more talk of the Brits coming in with the South. The Russkies could always make trouble though...California did belong to them once, I hear tell...Or at least they were sailing about, making claims. But I doubt they'd try anything at this distance. Still, if the Navy wants it and if they'll pay, our boys'll kick it out. Si vis pacem, para bellum, the Romans would say."
"I see...Keep peace by preparing for war, eh?" smile.
"Exactly..." eager nod. "Not many ladies, if you'll pardon me, get that even if they know their Latin. Not that I'm criticizing their gentle hearts..."
"But one must face cruel necessity..." she nodded with smile. "Olivia Giles..." she offered a slim hand in glove.
"Oh, my...There I go again, forgetting my manners..." the man sighed. "Oliver Wainwright...Say...We're two Olies." smile.
"Indeed we are, Mr. Wainwright." She glanced to Vladimir who was happily telling tales of the romantic ruined battlements of his ancestral castle in Transylvania to Miss Sinclair and two other young women, they in nightdress.
"Ah, here's the conductor..." Wainwright, peering at the door opening.
The same conductor who'd met Detective Harris and his party...Now leading the group down the cars to the site of Smackles' tragic fate.
"Any word on the poor fellar?" Wainwright called over.
"Not yet...Coming along, doc. Folks." the conductor turned back urging.
Vladimir pausing in conversation...Sensing…
Uh-oh…
By the granddad's ability enhanced pricking of my thumbs...Something wicked...Per our pov...This way comes...He eyed Olive anxiously, she not yet aware of the danger.
It could only be the Slayer...No human puts out that energy.
"There's the fellow who..." the conductor frowning as Vladimir went out the car door into the next car, nodding his apologies to the ladies, deft lifting of his hat.
"Olive? Come along..." his call as he went out.
Hmmn? She looked over…
"Boss calling?" Wainwright, sympathetically.
"It seems so..." she looked back at the conductor and the young man in brown suit…
Him...The fellow who'd taken Merritt's things on the ship.
Why, thanks for the warning, Vladimir...She glared to the opposite door.
He must have sensed the Slayer...Enhanced senses, the gift of ole Vlad to his descendants including the treacherous...And the only reason Vladimir keeps Granddad in stasis rather than finishing him...She smiled at Wainwright.
No need to chill a budding romance potentially leading to a nice dinner…
And despite his leeching off the workers to soak blood money he seemed a nice enough fellow in his way.
"Have to go. But perhaps we can talk again, later when I'm free? I'd love to hear more about your work and travels. I've a few tales myself."
"Why that'd be nice...You know where I live..." he smiled. "But maybe we could do breakfast, if you're up for it."
Hmmm...I suppose if I don't kill you before morning...And it's good to have a nice large cow on a long journey into the wilderness...And if the windows are kept closed, with a stout umbrella and more clouds tomorrow, breakfast might be nice.
"If I'm able to get away, probably have to be early..." she looked up the car again to see a slight blonde...Oh, my demon gods...The Slayer herself, it must be...
"Must run...Sorry, Oliver..." slight coy smile…
"I get ya...I'm up with the dawn so just rap on my berth. Bye, Olie!" he waved as she hurried up to the door and went out.
Harris and Ana now in the car behind Potter, Elisabeth, and the conductor, now engaged in quieting the fears of several passengers milling about the car hallway.
"Alls well, folks, clear the way for the doctor! We need to get through! The train'll be enroute again shortly. Clear the way! Alls well, ma'am. You can get back to bed." he addressed Miss Sinclair in front of him, somewhat disappointed in her efforts with Vladimir, now turned to another passenger, rather sternly.
Act like a lady on my train, girlie, or else...His look saying…
"Anyone hurt?" Potter called to the passengers. Elisabeth, behind him, a frown breaking through her increasing concern…
It's got to be Willie...Oh, God…
Forgive me, Mama...I shouldn't have let him go alone.
"Peter, we best hurry. These folks are ok." she urged.
I know that one...Ana, just behind Harris, eyed Miss Sinclair. We caught her in 314 last week with some Wall St banker dude.
….
"Olive…?" Vladimir had paused only at the end of the second car up from the one the Slayer had entered, he standing on the small platform just outside the car door.
"Thanks loads for warning me." she grimly replied.
"I believe I did...Was I to call out?" he frowned.
"It's the Slayer, you were sure?"
"Her aura is unmistakable..."
"And that fellow the late Watcher gave his materials to, with her..."
"Is he Council, another Watcher?"
"It's possible but I doubt it...What are you doing?"
"Composing myself..." Vladimir, hands together almost as if in prayer…
"Misting out on me?" she frowned.
"No, making my aura seem human as possible...It can be done if I concentrate a bit..."
"Nice...But you might prefer this..." she pulled two necklaces from her purse.
"A star?...Olive, I hope I'm an enlightened Unman currently of the 19th century without the prejudices of the past." he noted. "But I don't see that wearing a Jewish symbol...Which burns by the way, regardless of one's former faith or lack thereof..."
"It's a pentagram, idiot, not a Star of David." Olive frowned. "Nast provided them in case we met the Slayer, wear it close and it should reduce our auras. Stay close to a few humans though and theirs will help mask us."
"I see...Very kind of Nast." he took the charm gingerly. Ok no burns, no direct religious symbolization. He put the necklace round his neck.
"Forgive me if I still like to put most of my trust in our familial abilities..." he returned to his impromptu meditation. "I'd be happy to teach you but not being of our blood..."
"In your grandfather's abilities you mean..." she smiled to his annoyed frown.
…
"Fellow was just up by the door..." the conductor shook head as he and his party stood at the door, he peering out and ahead to the next car.
"He's the one who saw the other fellow fall...Maybe he's making for the baggage car to meet us. Come on."
"Well, he can hardly escape on a train." Potter noted. "Unless he plans to jump off..."
"Not so hard, considerin' we've stopped." Elisabeth groused.
"Just saying dear...No, nothing broken..." he patted the arm of a middle-aged woman who'd begged him to check her bruised arm extended out of her berth.
"Move it, willya Pete?!" Elisabeth hissed grimly.
Oh...Dad...Poor Stepdad...What have I done?
Potter frowning but moving on...
Not exactly cooing love birds, these two...Ana thought.