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 XXX…
Chicago Train Yards…An isolated siding to which the Potters' train had been diverted, due to the outbreak…
Now claiming four victims…One passenger in the coach car the others had been trapped in…Mrs. Potter…Detective Harris…He and Mrs. Potter now sharing Vladimir's sleeper, the other passenger, the woman who'd chaffed at the potential quarantine delay, set up in the remaining sleeper with…
"My dear Olive…" Vladimir, stroking her forehead with cold cloth…
"I can't believe this…" she fumed.
"I'm sure it's only a mild case…You'll be better soon. Probably by tomorrow…" He noted soothingly.
"But…" she lowered voice at his look…
Your roommate may be delirious with fever but she may still catch snatches of conversation…
"…I'm Undead…"
"Doesn't preclude illness. Though you're at no risk of dying per se. Unless Mrs. Potter learns our nature…" he noted quietly, leaning close. "You have enough…Medicine…With you? I may be able to get into the baggage car again."
Do not try eating your roommate…He whispered into her ear.
"I'm not a fool…Even if the woman is, and an annoying whiner to boot…" she fumed, fussing a bit. "Plus I want this over, not another week of it."
Knock at the compartment door…
Hopefully the lady's husband…Vladimir looked over sympathetically at the other patient. He's been shockingly remiss in his attentions.
"Yes?" he called.
"Wainswright, Count. Just checking in…Might I come in and see the lady?"
"Please…" Olive, wan smile at the sound.
My, I think he does care…Faint beam.
Vladimir eyeing her…
Hmmn…
Well, far be it from me to crush Romance…And the fellow is certainly a good future source of nutrition as well as seeming a nice enough sort.
He rose and opened the door… "Do come in, Mr. Wainswright…Our patient is quite eager for…A visitor."
Very funny…Olive glared. I said I wasn't a fool with the Slayer next to us and we all stuck in this car. Though at least you get to roam by night…When you can find a crack to mist out of, given you're stuck in the couches with the rest.
And you might apply your own advice…Someone's sure to wake up and wonder where their gallant Count has got to.
Though kudos, rematerializing in the Slayer's bedroom with the claim you'd heard her cry out the other night had balls, even if you really had no alternative.
"Olive? Mr. Wainswright would like to see you, you feel up to it?"
"Oh, yes…Hello, Oliver!" she called from the bed, trying to sit up.
Ohhh…
Damn…What the hell? I thought this sort of thing was over in exchange for Undeath, loss of full daylight privileges, and a fairly total commitment to Evil.
Hmmn…Sour frown as she lay back…
Longer I'm Undead the more fine print shows on this contract…
Wainswright edging over, Vladimir politely rising from his seat by Olive.
"I'll leave you a moment, I should see if Miss De Russell or Miss Jenkins has a moment to see to Mrs. Andresen here." He noted, nodding to Wainswright.
Might be a good time to reinforce my hold on dear Marie…Though she's been admirable in the last two days, one wonders about her spirit rising too much.
And a word with Andresen might well be in order…However much a man might understandably fear Death, the lady is your wife, man.
Just be glad you're dealing with Vladimir Dracula…Grandfather takes the marital vow even more seriously.
"Thanks, sir." Olive called to Vladimir, who kindly bowed to her and Wainswright.
"I'll be close by…Try to rest my dear Olive." He went out the door.
Actually do owe him, she thought, a bit grudgingly, he's been rather remarkably attentive and done his best to keep me in blood…But of course, I'm all he has in support with the Slayer…As a target to throw at her, no doubt. And potentially with Heinrich.
"So how have you been, Olivia?" Wainswright took seat.
"Much better with you here, Ollie." She smiled up a bit wistfully. "So, did you read the next chapter of 'Das Kapital'? I've been anxious to hear your opinion."
You know…Gordon thought, with just a tinge of regret…
I'm actually beginning to believe that.
Who'd've thought, hearing of these creatures I'd find myself feeling a bit of remorse at deceiving one…
But even if you were among the Living still, dear…We'd be rather star-crossed given my predilection for lithe and muscular young males, one in particular…
…
Slllurrrppp…Elisabeth tilted the bowl up, almost over her head in the bed…Ahh…She lowered the bowl to see Potter grinning at her, clearly a bit weary from his long vigil by her side.
"You look worse than me…Sure you're not going into the fever…?" She asked.
"I'm fine, just a little tired. And I've had it, I told you."
"All fretting over your missus, eh? Anyone would think you liked her." She teased, taking his hand.
"They might but they'd wonder if he weren't just out for her fancy old Book and whatever savings she had."
"Sounds about right. So, what's she after? Can't just be his pretty face?" she grinned, mocking tone.
"I hear he has Great Expectations…Dentistry is likely to be big out in the West. All those miners and cattlemen and their ladies, with bad teeth…"
"She could clean up…I get it." Nod. "Plus she gets free tooth pullin'."
"And she needs it…"
"Hey…Well, there are those back two…" sigh.
"And that wisdom tooth shoving the ruined canine further aside. It'll need to come out as well."
"Ow…" she winced.
"Well, you need to eat more fruit and avoid the candy." He noted, a bit sternly.
"This the way it's gonna be now?" she mock-glared.
"That's it."
"Fine…Long as I can have some more soup now, it's good."
"It should be, after three days of heaving even water."
"I love ya, Peter." She smiled, reaching hand up to his face. "Please don' go die on me. I'd really feel bad."
"No intentions of doing so, dear."
"Still want that soup."
"Coming right up…" He stood up.
"Gimme another day to get on my feet…And we'll talk, I promise." She eyed him.
"That'll be fine. For now, just rest and let me get that soup. I see Miss De Russell is a rather good cook."
"She made it?" Elisabeth, surprised. "Wouldn't've have thought she mucked in a kitchen."
"Her family wasn't always rich…"
"Oh…Been having some heart-to-hearts with her?" stern eyeing.
"Just a bit…She seems a bit more sure of herself these days."
"Great. Just don't let her get more sure of you." Frown. "I mean that. I don't give my heart easy, Pete. Be warned, I'm a hellcat where other gals are concerned."
"I believe that." He nodded.
"Not that you'd ever do anything…" she shrugged. "I'm just the jealous type, runs in the family. Ya should seen how Ma got some times over Willie when he had to work late and hang around with some types."
"Oh, really?"
"Really…So watch out." She grinned up.
Snore from the other bed…
"Watch out indeed." Potter noted.
"Yeah…Lets keep it down…And change the subject…To soup, waiter." She beamed.
"Coming right up, ma'am."
Ana coming in as he went out…
"She's still better?"
"Yes, much…And Mr. Harris seems to be sleeping normally. A light case, I think."
"Maybe…" she rubbed chin. "I hope so, he gave me a fright the other night falling down like that. Glad Mrs. P's doin' better."
"He should have let us know he'd not have the fever…And how ill he was." Potter noted sympathetically. "But he does seem better today."
"Thanks…" she pushed in. "Harris?! You up?! Oh, doc!" call to Potter. "Can ya bring some soup for Alex? And his comb and razor, he's looking a little scruffy. And I don't care what that quack of a doc says, we need the windows open wider." She bustled over, opening window wide.
"Ok, just a bit less maybe…" As frigid air poured in… "Alex?! Up and at 'em! Lets get you movin' a little! And some soup in ya!"
Groan from the detective… "An….Fer Christ sake…" "C'mon!" she urged.
She glanced over at Elisabeth…
Wouldn't hurt you to get yourself up and doing a few stretches, missie, her appraising look said.
Elisabeth rolling eyes in her bed…Great…
Nurse "Rest Kills!" Jenkins is back…
…
"I am certain, my friend…" Vladimir was addressing a rather hapless and cornered Andresen in his coach seat. "…that your company is the best medicine your dear wife could have now. I'm sure you'll see to it." Stern look, followed by friendly pat on arm.
"Sure…Count." Andresen, a bit unnerved at that deep and firm stare…
"Good man." He nodded. "Ah, Dr. Potter!" cheery call on seeing Potter emerged from his sleeper. "And how is our patient?"
"Doing well, Count…Quite an appetite now, though we're taking it easy. Soup alone for present." Indicating the bowl in his hands.
"Wonderful. I'm sure she'll be on her feet very soon." Friendly nod.
"Think we might open these curtains?" Andresen spoke up, indicating the drawn heavy curtains on the windows. "It looks better out today."
"I wouldn't mind a bit of light myself…" Vladimir nodded. "Dr. Michaels?" he turned to the elderly doctor, just returned from the improvised kitchen at the car's front where Miss De Russell was contentedly engaged in doling out her much appreciated soup to the dozen quarantined passengers, bearing his own bowl.
"Nope, no…" Michaels insisted, annoyed. "The folks are just startin' to recover. The light's likely to breed more noxions from the miasma, especially here in this siding. Keep those things covered. Conductor?" he turned to the rather weary of arguments, conductor.
"Yeah, we'd best follow the doctor's counsel, now the patients are doin' better…Sorry, folks, it won't be much longer." The conductor nodded. "You can go out on the platform in the rear for a bit if you need air, Andresen."
"That is, unless my colleague the tooth-puller cares to object?" Michaels eyed Potter grimly. "If he cares to forget my purging the other day broke his wife's fever."
Potter eyeing Vladimir who rolled eyes…
Still, she was better for it. Perhaps there was something in what she'd eaten…
"If we'd bled them all…" Michaels began…
"You're probably right, Doctor…Lets keep the curtains closed a bit longer. Elisabeth and Miss Giles did say light bothers their eyes." Peter cutting Michaels off, not eager for another medical discussion.
"Right then." Michaels turned to his soup.
Vladimir trying to repress a chuckle…With Dr. Michaels eagerly dispensing medical lore on the dangers of sunlight and fresh air, I can even play devil's advocate. And given there's some shaded area under the platform awning, I may as well suggest a little fresh air to the Doctor in a bit.
I actually could use a bit of air…The smells have been steadily rising in here…
No offense but humans already do bear a strong natural odor…And three days trapped in here with less than optimally emptied chamberpots has not improved things.
"Perhaps we could take a moment on the platform ourselves, Doctor?" he suggested to Peter. "I'm sure you need a bit of air and you do look exhausted."
"After I get Elisabeth another bowl of soup…Her appetite's back and I want to encourage it."
"Now that's foolish…" Michaels frowned, listening. "She ought to be refraining from food for a few more days. She'll be needing another purge, soon."
"I'll risk it, Doctor, thank you." Potter, calmly, moving up the car, Vladimir following.
"How did that man acquire a medical degree?" Vladimir hissed.
"In this country, if you can set a bone, you're invaluable." Potter shook head. "They've no use for theory."
"Well, thank the stars you've come to bring a little light into this medieval wilderness." Vladimir shook head. "We're lucky everyone hasn't been bled or purged to death…"
"That one purge did help, I have to concede that." Potter shrugged. "It makes me wonder if this isn't food based. I've heard some studies on typhoid have concluded that."
"Interesting…" Vladimir nodded. "You've heard I imagine of some studies involving possible transmission via wounds? I wonder if blood and food could be connected in this disease…? Miss De Russell…" he lifted hat in greeting at Marie in apron at her large souppot.
"You are truly an angel of mercy in this crisis." He beamed, she smiling shyly.
Well…Blush… "Just doing what I can, Count. How is Mrs. Potter, Doctor?"
"Well enough to want one more bowl, Miss." He smiled, offering bowl.
"Count? You've not fed today." She turned to Vladimir…Blinking slightly at her slightly odd choice…A strange thought popping.
Fed…On me? Marie…She thought…What are you suggesting to yourself?
She shook head…He smiling at her.
"And I am getting hungry and will take a bowl, if I may?"
"Certainly…" she ladled out soup into a white bowl and offered it, he taking with another lift of hat.
"I'll get this to Elisabeth and we can take our stroll, Count. If the conductor permits…" Potter noted, heading back down the car, bearing bowl.
"I hope you like me…It…." Marie told Vladimir, blinking again.
"I'm sure, dear girl." Nod. There, just a little bit of a reinforcing stare to ensure she's not slipping back a bit. See those wide eyes, just a bit blank now. Excellent.
Only wish I could add a bit of blood to this, I'm sure it's quite good as human food goes. Vladimir thought, heading back to the seats and taking one, just a bit isolated as Marie hesitated, staring for a bit at nothing till a woman passenger nudged her elbow, seeking her bowl.
"Oh, yes, certainly…Sorry, I was distracted." she ladled.
Yes…Certainly…Find you out…Tonight…Master.
…