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 XXXI…

"Are you quite comfortable, Miss Giles?" Wainswright regarded Olive, her head now propped up a bit in bed on pillows.

"Oh, yes, thanks…" she beamed.

"You sure you won't take a little soup?" he asked, concerned look on his large, kindly face.

"Later, perhaps…My tummy's still a bit tender. A sip of that medicine, from the flask there on the table?" she pointed. He looking and seeing the metal flask, brought it to her.

"Ah, yes…That should do it. Last of the bottle…" She smiled, handing the flask back. "Frankly I don't know what the Count has in it but it did seem to help."

"Perhaps Mrs. Andresen should have a bit…" Wainswright looked over at the other patient in the sleeper, she sleeping a bit fitfully.

"Oh, the Count provided her with some…" Indeed, some old Transylvanian folk remedy of herbs and such, largely alcohol from the smell in the room. Something from his mother, he actually was curious if it would help her.

At least it helped put her out…Another hour or two of her complaining and…

"…it seemed to help her sleep. I just hope it's not some patent medicine or bizarre folk remedy that'll make my hair fall out." Sheepish smile. "My only beauty…Afraid I'm a bit vain for someone claiming to be concerned with reforming the world."

Really…I hope the spice in this blood wasn't some gypsy nonsense, Vladimir…

"Not at all…We all have our little fancies and your hair's hardly your only beauty…As I think you know." Wainswright, arch smile. Sniffing… "But that's a rather powerful smell to that potion, whatever it is. Rather almost metallic…"

"Lord…" she shook head, wan smile. "You know I almost thought it was part animal blood when I tried it. But the Count assured me it just has a metallic taste. Oliver? Why don't you see if you can identify it? If you don't mind? Mine's all finished but Mrs. Andresen still has a good bit left."

Hmmn…Wainswright looked over to where the other flask stood on table shelf extending from the car wall near Mrs. Andresen's bed.

"Dare I?"

"Dare…" Olive gave coy smile. "Just take a whiff though and see what you think…"

He went over, smiling…Carefully lifting flask as Mrs. Andresen slept on.

"Hmmn…A bit metallic scent but…" he took a slight sip. "Lord, it's rum!…With some flavors…"

"Not too much, Oliver! It seemed to help but…" Olive, anxious tone.

Sincerely…One never knows, Vladimir might have intended to rid us of Mrs. Andresen. Though he seems to honestly want to avoid killing for now.

"No, just a sip. Well, it's got to be mostly rum…" he grinned to her. "No wonder milady fair there is out cold. Well, it must've helped you sleep." He noted.

"Whatever works, eh?" she smiled. "Come and sit…I want to know your opinion of Marx so far."

He came over and sat again…Well…

"I must confess…While I appreciate Mr. Marx's wanting to consider all aspects in history…The social and the economic, I don't discount the individual's effect. The world's different because the right or wrong man or woman was here, at the right or wrong time. If JW Booth had been detained, Lincoln might have lived, the South would have had a different experience after the War. If Washington weren't Washington, we might have never gotten independence or we might have our own monarchy today." He shrugged. "I can't says as I feel it's all inherent forces of history or inertia drivin' us on. And even he wants a group leading the march…"

"That's a flaw I have to agree with…" Olive nodded. "In fact I actually met Karl in London when he was researching that book. He was quite opinionated and expected people to accept him as the natural leader of any movement springing from his work."

A night I will always remember, it being my deathday…

"I sense we're kindred spirits, Oliver…" Olive noted, fond if wan look at him. "And while your profession I must admit gives me a little pause, I suspect you believe in a better world…Not in some hereafter, but now, here, on the Earth." Slight fervor…

"Well…I may not quite be a revolutionary sort, Miss Giles, but I do believe in doing whatever it takes to make life better for the majority of folks." Wainswright noted.

"That's all that really matters. My own philosophy has undergone changes as I've matured." She nodded. "I admit frankly…I was once all for violent revolution and even a bit of an anarchist…" sheepish grin.

"Indeed…Yes, I believe you were quite the agitator…But your views have changed?" he asked, smiling.

"Somewhat…" she nodded. "I see other means to achieve the ends I want."

No, not now…She thought, repressing urge.

Try and savor the blossoming of a new affection…Get to know each other…There's plenty of time for the rest.

"You know it might be less dank in here if I opened the curtains and the window to let in a little air…" Wainswright suggested, rising.

I think…The lady may be getting both amorous…And hungry…Gordon thought.

"Oh…Uh…Perhaps just the window open a bit…Light still bothers my eyes." Olive, hastily. "And Dr. Michaels said…"

"That fool quack…" Wainswright frowned. "With his eagerness for bleedings and purging, he'll kill the lot of you. But if the light disturbs you, I'll just give you a bit of air, eh?"

"Thank you, Oliver." She nodded. "You know, I probably will need a few days here in Chicago to fully recover. The Count is quite willing to stay on till then. Will you be…" she scrunched down in bed as he moved the heavy curtain just a bit and lifted the window beyond a few inches.

"…staying in town for any time?"

"I'll need to wait for a new connection, though that should only be a day or two…" He began, her face honestly falling a bit… "…But if you would like me to, I don't sees as a couple of days could hurt. Doctor and Mrs. Potter'd probably be glad to have someone around till she's better as well."

"Oh, yes. If I'm better perhaps we can see a little of the City together." She beamed.

"I'd like that very much…Chicago's quite a town, I've got to know it well. But you should get some rest now." He noted, moving to the door. "I'll be back to continue our discussions. I hope you'll be eating by then."

"I'll try as to both. Oh, do come back soon." She smiled fondly, resting back on pillow.

Much more comfy now Vladimir brought a handful of my soil to put under the cover sheet…

"I will. Try and rest now…" he wagged a finger at her

"You're sweet…Ollie." She beamed.

"You too…Ollie." He smiled.

Ah, poor thing…Gordon thought as he emerged from the car.

Of course she either plans to feed on, kill, and transform me if she doesn't find out or tear me apart after feeding if she does, but still…

Poor, poor thing…

…

"So this is it?" Vladimir with Potter, standing carefully on the rear platform, keeping under the awning…Fortunately the sun on the other side of the car…Eyed the Book.

"Yes, lovely thing, isn't it?" Potter nodded, offering it. Vladimir taking it gingerly.

"Remarkable…And clearly not American…Far too old and well crafted…" Vladimir scanned the Book.

"It's been in your wife's family a long time?"

"Many years…But its subject is also quite unusual…"

"Yes…" Vladimir opening and thumbing…Pausing at the image of a large red and brown horned demon. "Quite…" smile.

"Demonology and the Occult, it seems" Peter shook head.

"Well, there are more things in Heaven and Earth…" Vladimir smiled. "We can't let our increasing knowledge of the natural world and science close our minds to other realms." He handed back the Book. "Thank you for showing it to me, a remarkable work. A good deal of Greek and Latin…Have you been able to translate it?"

"A portion…" Potter nodded. "Quite a collection of legends and folk magic."

"How did Mrs. Potter's family acquire it, if I may ask?"

"She's not certain herself…Apparently it just came into the family's possession…And stayed."

"They should see it properly cared for. It would grace a museum or a collector's library."

"The family's very attached to it. And her cousin Mr. Smackles was the one who passed it on to her…So, quite a sentimental attachment…"

"Of course…But one day…It would be a crime to see it damaged." Vladimir smiled. "But, if I may intrude, did her family actually have dealings with the occult? Back in Europe, perhaps?"

"I would think so, but hard to say, perhaps they simply acquired it at some point."

"Well, they're to be congratulated for keeping it in such good condition over the decades. I think I shall head back inside, it seems to be getting a bit chillier and rather cloudy." Vladimir indicated the sky.

"Yes, I want to see to Elisabeth…" Potter nodded.

So…You want it but it's not exactly what you want…He thought, smiling at Vladimir. You need more and so you'll avoid any trouble about it for now. Trouble meaning Beth…

Somehow you need Beth as well…Not a translator…Beth…

You need a Slayer…