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 XXIII…
"Mrs Potter? My most profound condolences..." Vladimir, a properly sympathetic-looking Olive beside him...Not too close,you idiot, she eyed him...addressed Elisabeth as the little group waited for the returning train. Smackles' remains carefully moved off the tracks by Peter and Harris, with a bit of effort.
"Thanks..." Elisabeth, calmly.
"We'll get him set when the train's back." Harris, beside her.
"Sure..." she nodded.
"My poor girl..." Marie, just across the track with Ana, still stunned herself but kindly...Startled by the angry flash in Elisabeth's quick stare.
Have I done...Wrong? Glance to Ana...Who shrugged. Kid's just upset, I guess.
"I need a bita air...Peter." insistent tone to Potter on her other side.
Hmmn…?
"Certainly, dear..." quizzical stare.
Jest cmon...Her return stare...
"Don't git too far. Train'll be here anytime." Harris noted.
"Sure." Elisabeth nodded, taking Potter's arm.
They walking off, following the track back…
"Poor thing...Her cousin, eh?" Olive asked Ana.
"So she said...Yeah." nod.
"A tragedy..." Vladimir sighed. "I trust the train's officials will allow time for a proper burial?"
"I'll see to that...I'm sure they won't wanna take him aboard. And it's that or give us an hour here." Harris nodded. "But they'll prefer no trouble to the company so it'll be ok."
"Excellent..." Vladimir nodded solemnly.
So long as they don't decide to wait for dawn, that is...Olive thought.
Still, no need for two strangers to attend a family event if it comes to that…
…
"Well?" Potter eyed Elisabeth…
"Jest keep movin'...I don't want them back there to hear." she urged him on.
"Right." nod.
At last, perhaps something...He thought.
"This'll do..." she led him up the slope a bit. Eyeing him...
"You can leave the train at Chicago." she told him. "I'll say you had business and are joining me later. I'll sees about a divorce in San Francisco, though don't bother yourself about it, I won't make any claims."
"Why should I…?" he began.
"Because I says so..." grim look. "I've killed two men, sure as if I'd stabbed them...I won't kill another, even if..." pause. "Just leave the train at Chicago and forget about me. You'd probably find good business there anyways. It's a big place."
"So Merritt and Smackles…?" he eyed her.
"Yeah..."
"Over that Book…?"
"Related...Enough with the questions, Pete." she sighed. "Lets go back."
"Wait..." he frowned. "You're saying they both were murdered, related to that Book or what was in it? Who killed them?"
She eyed him coolly.
"Surely you don't suspect Miss DeRussell?" he stared.
"She coulda managed it but I dunno fer sure." she shrugged. "There's those two...The writing Count and his gal...Secretary. Strange they showed up just when..." pause.
He saw tears welling...
"Why didn't you say he was your stepfather, Elisabeth?" he asked, moving close.
"I said...Enough with the questions, Peter." she glared, wiping eyes quickly. "Questions are like the cat with the curiosity..." grim look.
"This is much more than money..." he stared.
"Just forget about it...And get off in Chicago. Take care of your family." she brushed hair back, avoiding him.
"I can't leave you alone..." he insisted.
She regarded him… "I'll find a way to reach you. You'll get your share, don't worry."
"Elisabeth..."
"Yer in my way, Doc. Thanks for yer help but that's all. Now lets get back and see to Willie."
"Why were those men killed, Elisabeth?" he demanded, taking her hand which she yanked away.
"You goddamn fool!" she hissed. "Just do as I say and get yerself out of this while I'm willing to let you go!"
"Not till I know you're safe." he insisted.
"Like you can..." she glared.
"You took me on so I could be a target for whomever killed your stepfather and 'uncle' Merritt. I can go on being a target..." he eyed her.
She stared at his wan smile…
"You don't have to tell me more, for now. Just let me going being your clay pigeon." he smiled, more warmly now.
"Why?" she stared, a catch in her voice.
"Because...You're family now...And I am rather protective of my family, however clumsily. Lets go back." he offered an arm, brushing askew hair b ack and dusting off his suit with the other.
…
"Ya can either let us bury the feller here...Or we can haul what's left into and through your nice clean cars so everyone can see." Harris eyed the objecting conductor...The train now halted just by the spot where Smackles' remains had been found.
"I can't give clearance...The land is company property." the conductor insisted.
"If folks see a man's smeared bits, theys likely to remember. In a court." Harris noted. "With an NYC dick and that poor girl testifying on topa that, I don't think even a train company can pull enough strings to dodge a suit. And the man in charge here, namely you, will be the one they put it all on. Accident due to poor care in securing the car doors..."
"Everything was locked down that way...He must've jimmied the car door."
"Maybe the judge'll believe that..." Harris calmly. "But who would know this feller weren't buried by some passing crowd...Plenty of folks follow the tracks on wagon and horse. Make it easy on yerself and give the little missus some comfort."
"All right...Fine. But you handle it." the conductor insisted. "The engineer wants to check the wheels and frame anyway. You got an hour."
"That's fine. Nice doin' business wid ya." Harris nodded, tapping his cap. Ana beside him nodding archly to the conductor.
"Lets go tell the gal...We'll need to do the business quick." Harris urged.
"Alex...There's more to this, isn't there? It's to do with why West sent you out here, isn't it?" Ana, worriedly.
"Likely so...Just keep close and don't worry yourself." he patted her as they headed to the door to the rear platform.
"A man got smeared...And I'm guessing it wasn't an accident!" she hissed.
"Careful...Not here." he whispered as they moved down the car, two passengers peering out the rear door to view the little group of searchers/mourners on the ground outside.
"Lets see to the gal and then talk things over. I'll be wanting yer opinion, girl."
She sighed but smiled wryly to his smile… "It's usually the right one."
"So I've found..." nod.
….
Well...Olive watching as Vladimir gallantly took his turn at shovel at Smackles' gravesite…She standing by Ana and Miss DeRussell...Elisabeth by Peter on the other side of the deepening grave. Harris wiping hands on a coarse sheet after his turn at shovel...
One can't fault him as being unwilling to take on manual labor…
"Just a few more should do, thanks Count." Harris called. Vladimir nodding…
Lord, I hope no one asks me to pray...Olive thought. Glancing over to Potter and Elisabeth…
Yes, Vladimir...I admit your instincts are right. She loves him.
The poor silly fool…And he loves her...Whether he has a clue to what she is or no.
Why...Why didn't I have that? I was a good person...A loving person...Once. A bitter pang…
…
Aboard the train, in his car Wainwright was strolling about, dressed properly now, nodding to several passengers who'd likewise given up on sleep for the moment. Opening door to the next car and pausing, after closing door, on the platform. Where Miss Sinclair waited.
"Artemis?" she asked.
"Careful..." he put up a hand. "I understand these 'people' have acute senses. And there may be more of them on board." peering round.
"All right...Well?" he eyed the woman.
"No sign of Nast...He must have taken a different route." she noted.
"Makes sense. He wouldn't want to risk encountering Miss Springs in such a confined space. Pity. We might have settled this in one swoop." sigh.
"Is that little thing really that powerful?" the woman eyed her superior.
"So I'm told...Haven't seen her in action. But dangerous things come in small packages as Nast and Dr. Loveless should have taught us."
"I suppose." she nodded. "What about our mysterious Count who appeared so suddenly this evening with his assistant?"
"She didn't kill him yet unless she did so outside there just now. Perhaps he is what he claims, perhaps not. Keep an eye on him but not too close. These creatures are powerful and deadly...And not only do they feed on us...They can take you and any information you carry if they think you'd be useful."
"So I was briefed by Mr. West in Washington." she nodded. "But I have some protection..." she lifted the crucifix round her neck. "Plus this isn't perfume in here..." she offered spray bottle. "It's holy water."
"Good...But don't trust in those too much. Just try to watch those two and the Slayer and her party. Our job is just to maintain surveillance till they meet Nast and head out with him. I imagine his agents have the same instructions regards the Slayer, as she's the only one who can locate this 'Hellmouth'."
She stared at him...Then smiled wryly.
"This one is a little different. I'm not used to dealing with the occult outside a bit of fakery." she shrugged.
"Well...More things in Heaven and Earth." he smiled. "And this isn't fakery..."
"We're putting a lot of trust in our British cousins on this..." she frowned. "And some of them were quite willing to help either the South or Loveless break us up."
"It's in both our nations' interests to stop Mr. Nast." Artemis ...Gordon by true last name noted. "And the Watchers' Council isn't completely in the hands of the British government."
"Maybe...Or they may want us to believe that and be using us. Trying to get their hands on whatever this thing is...If it's as powerful as Jim's said. I don't trust Brits." she frowned.
"We're not blindly following their lead, don't worry. Jim's playing a careful hand here. And the Slayer is an American, this one, lucky roll of the dice for us."
"Artemis..." she paused. "You'd better be careful yourself. If that woman 'secretary' is one of..."
"The Undead?" he smiled. "Yes, I'd better. But I did make sure Wainwright here would be of interest to a vampire. Nice big fellow, full of blood. Just hope the padding fools her. A real challenge, anyway, to fool one of them, if she is. I'll find out quick enough if she pays me that breakfast call...Or one sooner…" smile.
"Jim would never forgive me if I lost you, Arty." she frowned, shaking head. "You say don't underestimate them. Don't you." stern look.
...