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 XXXVII...
Olive eyed the gleaming black cast iron barrel before her…Securely chained down in the baggage section Wainwright had brought her to and yet...Menacing.
"The Dahlgren gun, a 32-pounder columbiad, capable of firing both shot and explosive shell…" Wainwright fondly patted the gun barrel. "This, dear girl, is the most advanced naval artillery weapon of the age." He nodded at her look, urging her to touch the barrel.
"Lovely…If deadly." She smiled.
"Indeed." He agreed.
Rather kindred spirits there, gun and vampiress…Both independently thought.
"And this could even sink one of the new ironclad vessels?" she eyed him.
"With the latest explosive shell, yes." He nodded, solemn twinkle, finger to lips. "But that's a secret so…"
"Absolutely, Ollie." She beamed. "I wouldn't breathe a word."
And don't need to, so I really wouldn't…Though Heinrich might find these beauties very useful when expanding his empire.
And maybe there might even be a place for one Wainwright…She eyed Oliver who was carefully wiping the gun barrel with a soft cloth. "Glad they'll just be couplin' you and the other ladies to the new engine, Maisie my girl." He told the barrel.
"Ollie. Ollie…?" she urged. He apologetically turning back to her.
"Sorry, I'm afraid I get too fond of these girls…" grin.
"Yes…And I could get jealous of them." Coy smile, then a fixed look. "Ollie? You know I've become rather fond of you, I hope. In the short time we've had together." She breathed.
"It's been a long time in fact since I've been so fond of anyone…"
Honestly…She thought, almost shyly.
My God…He thought, somewhat sadly. I actually believe she's sincere.
"Do you think…I don't mean to be forward…" slight sigh. "But are you…Fond of me?"
"Very much so, Ollie." He smiled. She beaming shyly, touching his arm gently.
"I don't mean to rush things or make any demands…But, I would like to go on seeing you, when we reach San Francisco." Earnest look.
"Thank you, Olive…" he hesitated. "I'm honored…"
Hmmn…She blinked at him.
That has a somewhat frosty tone…
"Is there a problem? Are you…Engaged elsewhere?"
As in, a wife or mistress to chow down on? Really not a problem…
"Oh no…No…Please." he smiled, waving the notion off. "It's just…While I have the usual ration of male self-confidence, perhaps and then some…I'm not…Well…" shrug. "Used to beautiful women making such offers to me."
"Then such are fools." She noted, sternly.
Poor creature, he thought. As unbelievable as it seems, I feel quite in the wrong here, misleading her…
And yet…I've a job to do.
And while you seem a dear girl in your way and no doubt were such in life…
You're really…Really…Not my type. Though sadly, I must convince you for the time being, that you are.
Truly the finest acting opportunity Artemis Gordon, former professional actor/inventor/soldier turned Secret Service agent/amateur actor has ever had…
"Well…My, my…I'm quite overwhelmed, Olive." He smiled gently. "I just wonder if a fellow like myself can be worthy of you."
Oh…My…She blinked. Feeling…What the…? A tear?
Me? After all these years? All my murders, casual and more solemn…
Getting blubbery over some mortal? Who was so kind and sweet to me when I was ill…
Demon Gods! It's not possible…
And yet…For so long and never in my life excepting hero worship of my human leader and now my sire…
Could it be? Love?
Me?
Or am I just very hungry and fond of my food?
No…She thought, in no little wonder.
"I think I'm in love with you, Oliver." She said simply. Earnestly. Taking his hand…
Maybe travel really does broaden the mind…And even a dead heart can warm a little…
God forgive me…He stared.
James probably wouldn't…If I let this go on.
"I care for you too, Olive…Miss Giles." He swallowed nervously. "But I feel I should warn you that while I am a reasonably successful businessman…"
"I'm not seeking a fortune, Ollie." She eyed him. "Just a good, hard-working man I love, share with, and respect."
"Then…" he took her hand in his. "We must go at once and be properly chaperoned."
Say what? She blinked.
"We have to think of your reputation, Miss Giles." He eyed her, with a slight twinkle she caught. "And you deserve to be formally called upon with proper intentions. If I may do so, Miss Giles, assuring you my intentions are proper."
"Oh…Well…"
Really? Somewhere inside she glowed.
Someone really…?
Oh, I am so tempted to turn you right now but on the other hand…This is so…
Wonderful. And it would be dangerous to have a newborn skulking about now, trying to master his demon.
Wise policy to wait, at least till San Francisco…Yes.
And rather nice, to be properly courted.
"I accept, Mr. Wainwright." She offered her gloved hand. "Shall we? Now you've seen your girls secure. And be…Properly chaperoned."
God forgive me…He thought, kissing the hand gently.
And I think…Olive pondered…
I may have an answer for my "employer" Count de la Cule, that he'll be pleased to hear.
I'm finding I rather like the world these days, as is. Though of course the thought of taking the Hellmouth as a sort of wedding present does appeal to…
Ollie would make such a fine King to my Queen…Well, Our People's Temporary co-Dictators, till vampiral communism is established, of Earth…She beamed at him.
…
"Lets move it along, people…" the stationmaster called to the group of Potter, Elizabeth, "Millie", the Harrises, and Count de la Cule as the party strolled back to their car, dusk creeping, raising Vladimir's spirits mightily. "We've been cleared to head out on the Western line soon as the new engine's hooked up."
"Really?" Potter eyed him. "So, no transfer and we head out tonight?"
Elizabeth a bit pensive…
Well, the die done been cast for me…No time to leave him somewhere.
And lets face it…I can't do this without him, now demnit.
Oh, my love…Her heart sighing as she regarded Potter calmly…Why'd you have to be so…
"Soon as the engine's secured…" the man agreed.
"That's wonderful…" Vladimir beamed.
Really…I would not enjoy another crate ride transfer…
And while Chicago is a fascinating young American city, pulsating with life…And one to which I will return in future…I am anxious to get on with the main event. The Hellmouth looms…
As does dear old Nast…And his Turok-Han minion. And his assorted followers, including…
"So, we'll be off soon?" Harris questioned the official closely, Ana looking relieved.
Had quite enough of Chicago and its famed stockyards today, thanks.
"Count de la Cule, sir? Have you heard?" Olive's rather pleasantly eager voice calling from their car's platform… "We'll be leaving within the hour."
"Yes, just now, dear!" he called back, waving to her…And Wainwright beside her.
She seems…Amazingly radiant. Almost human. Almost…
Oh, my poor girl…He stared.
Why, she's in love.
We of the Dracule being expert in matters de la Coeur…
With yon large fellow? He eyed Wainwright by her side.
Well, a fine source of nutrition as well as affection is practical.
Poor Nast, he thought, reflecting…
And how fortunate for me. Even if she still refuses alliance, I now have a hold on her, at last.
Not that I would ever interfere with Romance so crudely as to take the man. Just…
A mortal, or even a vampiral, mate is so…Breakable.
And a well-placed, discreet hint of jeopardy…? Priceless.
Though I would be wise to suggest the threat comes from Nast should he learn of her heart's betrayal.
As it, no doubt, would…
"Looks like you won't be leaving me behind here…" Potter, shrewd glance and whisper to Elizabeth as they boarded after the others and entered the car after the Harrises and young Millie. Vladimir having paused on the platform, happily regaling a remarkably tolerant Olive on Wainwright's arm with tales of their day…
"Clever lil' shite aren't ya?" she eyed Potter grimly.
"Forgive me, Pete." She suddenly pulled at him. "Just say it, please."
"Whatever happens…" he patted her arm. "I wouldn't have missed you for the world and life itself."
"Thanks. Don't you dare die on me." Grim look restored. "It could be fatal for everybody, ya know…Me takin' meself off at the wrong time. And that's your fault, you limey sob."
"Sorry…" he smiled wanly as she hugged him.
"Jest sayin'…I'd die or worse for you, Peter." She noted, simply.
…
"So…" Vladimir, in his compartment to Olive, as the train made its way out of Chicago, evening falling, sly smile…
"You had a nice time with the Potters?" she asked, sitting at what passed for a small pull down table/desk, a shelf of paper out, writing a bit, having noted to Vladimir earlier that they'd need something to show to confirm her position as his secretary and validate his claims at writing/journalism.
Sides, a trip like this out in the American West might actually sell to a newspaper or journal…And one can always use a source of extra income.
"Indeed I did…And Detective Harris and his lady were charming company as well. I truly enjoyed myself…"
"That's good…You can give me an outline…Or more details if you wish, though I'm pretty well versed in doing reports from little…From my previous work." she regarded him seriously.
With egotistical males who regarded their fellow Watcher as their clerk and expected me to handle their papers…
Really getting into the character are we? He eyed her. Still, she has a point, we must live…Unlive…Our roles.
"In a moment…It was fascinating seeing the Chicago stockyards…Most efficient killing I've ever seen en masse. But…" he smiled.
"I'm considering…Perhaps favorably…" she shrugged, blandly eyeing him.
"Oh, very good…Thank you, my dear, all I can ask…" offhand wave. "But actually…I was wondering about your young man there? Mr. Wainwright, I believe?"
"Oliver? Hardly my young man." She frowned. "Are you trying to be funny, Vladimir?"
"Not at all, really…I'm a bit concerned for you, dear. You seem very fond of him."
"Don't be ridiculous." Grim look.
"He seems a nice fellow, no offense was intended."
"He is nice…But…Hardly…"
Dear gods…He blinked at the tear running down her cheek, she impatiently wiping.
We may be in some trouble here…