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 XLI...
San Francisco…
"Gregor…?" a newly risen Nast eyed the hulking figure standing in the heavily curtained foyer of Kitten's "Emporium"…Watching the large front door with a rather oddly and striking depressed air…
"That will be all, Kathy. Get some rest and prepare for your night's duties." He told the rather wan, swaying blonde girl in fairly respectable maid's outfit by his side, wearily brushing at his suit. She giving a rather stinted curtsy and moving off to the stairs.
"Are you all right, my boy?" faintest of smiles as Gregor gave a stifled sigh.
"All…Right. Father." Growled out…
My, but Clarissa is working wonders with him, Nast thought. "I think your aura belies your finely pronounced words, Gregor. I can guess…I miss her, too, you know." Fond smile.
"But she will be back home shortly, at the end of her schoolday, I promise."
"Back. Yes…Good, Father." Gregor nodded. "I…Love…Clarie…" He looked down. Nast patting his arm gently.
"Now, now, Gregor. Don't be bashful. You've made a declaration worthy of Cyrano. And, I happen to believe the lady in this case reciprocates."
"You…Ma…Make her." Slightly downcast look, with just the slightest touch of accusatory.
That…Nast fuming inwardly in spite of natural caution…Has the slight, but definite taste of opposition.
Still, the boy is in love for the first time in his existence…Perhaps in most of his species' existence. Given that…And the danger he poses if aroused and enraged…I can cut him some slack.
"No, Gregor…At least not entirely. We did, shall we say…Your stepmother and I…Calm her down a bit and make her more willing to accept you in her life, but all the considerable rest is you."
Rather astonishingly so, I should note…Nast thought. Just would not have taken him for her type without constant enthralling and mind-shackling hypnotic persuasion, reducing her to a near-vegetative state. But if anything, their bond seems to be deepening when she is least under her mother's and my own influence.
"Come and sit, my boy." Nast indicated two rather elegant chairs to the side…Gregor a bit reluctantly and cautiously…He'd broken several over the last two months…Taking the one Nast left free, by his left…
"Yes, though her mother's quite light thrall and my own abilities, Stepmother Kitty and I have some influence over Clarissa…" Nast nodded. "But her personal feelings remain her own. She's taken a liking to you as you to her, Gregor." He beamed. "And I, as a sort of stepfather to you both, indeed cemented by a bit of blood in her case, thoroughly approve. She's exactly the mate for you, my dear boy."
"Clarie…Likes me? She says so?" intense stare.
Poor fellow, he has got it bad, Nast thought. "Yes, Gregor. She told us the very first morning after you two were first together."
Nast a bit startled at the lightening of Gregor's dead grey features…My demon gods…
"Surely she's told you she likes you. She's told us that."
"I…Think…She has to. You tell her. But, no?" eager stare on the ashen face, the black doll's eyes blinking.
"No. She does sincerely like you, son. And I am glad of it." Nast, beaming. "It's all I could have hoped for, you two together and happy."
In the darkest sense of the word, of course…And preferably in the period following her demise.
"Me, too." Eloquent simplicity.
"Wonderful. What's the matter?" Nast eyed the suddenly stricken face.
"Ma no like." Gregor, sighing… "Kitty no like us together. She no…Not like Clarie. Not anymore."
"Not at all, Gregor. Kitty is very pleased, honored in fact, to know you've accepted her daughter as your future mate. And you know that I would not have it otherwise."
Gregor, shrugging. "Kitty no like us together. She hates Clarie. Clarie knows. Father?" he turned to face Nast. "Why did you take her? Clarie's ma?"
Ooops…Nast blinked at the sudden turn in the conversation…A potentially dangerous one…
"Clarie loves her ma." Quietly. "Her ma loved her. But now…"
Another, far more eloquent, far more potentially threatening pause…
"Gregor, I chose Kitty, as you did Clarissa, for my mate. I granted her eternal life…And she was ill, she might well have died within the next few years. Now, there may be some…Strain…Between Clarissa and her mother's demon, but Kitty is still her mother. Does Clarissa feel I've done her wrong?" staring carefully.
Lets see…Ways of killing a Turok-Han…?
Sadly, I think all require a highly trained Slayer or extreme exposure to sunlight…
"No…" Gregor shook his massive head. "She loves Father…Has to…"
Hope that's not a judgmental statement…Nast thought. I only added a light thrall of my own to Kitty's.
Not to mention, I'm rather fond of the girl myself…Hate to think she's only fond of me via compulsion. Within the limits of my nature, I have tried to be a good stepfather…
"But she misses old ma. Kitty always angry." Firm statement.
And the inevitable…Nast waited…
"I don't like Ma Kitty always angry at Clarie." Calm statement, eyeing Nast.
Hmmn…We reach the potential tipping point…
Now is the time for a World Leader to demonstrate his skills extend beyond killing, mayhem, and slavish enthrallment…
After all, the world admires my beau ideal model leaders Caesar and Napoleon as administrators and legislators as much as great generals…
"Nor do I, Gregor. But Kitty's demon is still adjusting to her new life. Why, my boy, when I first transformed…" Nast expansively… "I hated all from my former life, especially those I'd loved most human. I believe in some ways, one's demon lays blame upon them for either past sins or as the cause of their own new existence. But in time, patience and acceptance come, along with mass killing and the delights of torture, and one comes to realize the joys of eternal life…One recovers some balance. And I assure you, my true son…" Nast firmly. "Until Kitty adjusts fully, I will continue to insist upon her she make an effort to show Clarissa proper affection." Pause…Fond smile…
"I'm glad you came to me with this, Gregor…"
Rather than just tearing Kitty apart…Though why I should feel anything for that tiresome if at times comfortingly solid lump of flesh…?
But, she is mother to the coming Slayer…And something in her…Damned annoying as her soul's constant…Damn you! He cried.
"Father?" Gregor, concerned tone…And quite shockingly, a sort of bizarrely concerned look on his features…
"It's all right, Gregor. Just a bit of my old trouble with souls…" Nast sighed. "It will pass…Shortly. Yes, there…Better."
"Hellmouth will fix?" Gregor asked.
"Yes, indeed, my boy. The Hellmouth will end that torment for me and cement my link to this world." He rubbed his temples. "Will you help me with that, my son?"
"Yes, Father." Gregor nodded.
"That's good. You're a fine son, my boy." Nast patted him. "And as for your stepmother, I'll see she's kinder to our Claire. Don't worry, all will be well. And soon the Slayer will come, first to find the Hellmouth secure in Los Angeles…And then to find us, here…Become our Claire's fast friend…And join our family. Still human for a fair time, if possible…"
"If…No…Not…Possible…Slayer die, Clarie, Slayer…"
"What?" Nast blinked, struggling to conceal surprise, annoyance, perhaps just a bit of fear…
"Me read about Slayer…Clarie is next Slayer." Gregor eyed him.
"We've talked of the Slayer but you've been reading about her?" Nast stared. "And from that, you concluded Clarissa is of the Slayer line?"
"You tell me…Me read…Of Slayer…In library. New Slayers come when old Slayer die. Clarie feels like Slayer. I feel Slayer in…Her." Gregor, struggling a bit to get all out.
I feel both proud and a bit quaking in my shoes…Nast thought.
It may be I should have censored my library as to occult reading matter…
"And what are your thoughts on that, Gregor? Should this be true?"
"No want Clarie Slayer, hunt vampires…" Gregor, rather firmly. "I no want her hurt."
"Nor do I, Gregor…But, if Miss Springs…Er, Mrs. Potter, survives the Hellmouth opening and proves difficult to control via thrall, we may have to grant her a permanent place in our family, to ensure everyone's safety."
Gregor, silently eyeing him…
"But if Clarissa then becomes Slayer, she'll be with us, not a vampire huntress." Reassuring smile, pat… "She'll be safe, as my own dear daughter and wife of my son, namely…You, my boy. She'll have a Slayer's strength and ability but not the misery of their pitiful lives as slaves to that awful Watchers' Council you've heard me speak of and you know of, from Hell. And dead, Mrs. Potter will still be with us, a mighty vampiral Slayer, helping her sister, our Claire, to sustain our realm."
"No Council." Gregor nodded. "No Council, no hunt. No fight…"
"Exactly, dear boy." Nast nodded. "She'll be your mate, our Princess Heir. And as much as possible Mrs. Potter will do any fighting. Clarissa will be yours to cherish, human to play with for as long as you wish, then with you eternally."
"If she like me…" Gregor sighed, lowering head.
"What, why wouldn't she? She does like you." Nast shook head. "Don't doubt that, son."
Oh…Both looked up as a door below creaked…
"Here comes your stepmother…Let us talk later of this, between us." Nast noted.
"Heinrich?!" loud call. Gregor eyeing him…
"Up here, Kitty!" Nast replied.
"F-ing whores, leaving their blood and parts of the others all about the place!" loud grumbling…Loud cry up stairwell… "Betsy! Git out of whosever bed ya flopped in and down here, ya lazy lesbo tramp! Git this rug cleaned up now! And git Angie up, I needs a bite to eat! Move it, ya dumb whore!" cry. Sounds of running feet…
"Much kinder, I promise you…" Nast noted to Gregor's stare.
…
"I hear congratulations are in order…" Miss Sinclair in respectable yet somehow slightly alluring travelling outfit…Perhaps the crimson of jacket and hat taking her just a nudge out of respectability…Or, at least vaguely suggestive of her being available…Rather dryly to Wainswright as they stood in the first baggage car. Wainswright frowning a bit…
"Sorry…I suppose you had to go along." She put up an lace gloved hand…
"There wasn't much choice after she asked me…" shrug. "But lets remember my fiancée is both a ruthless killer and quite the jealous type, so we need to make this short…"
"I have it, from the last stop, by telegram." She noted, offering him a large thick paper envelope which he took.
"You're sure? Jim's sure?"
"Me? Hardly. I'm no expert on this sort of thing." She frowned. "But Jim's telegram said he saw it used. Apparently to amazing effect…"
"Hard to believe…That something like this works." Wainswright shook head.
"Just be careful trying it if you use it, Artie…" she eyed him. "If it fails…"
"I've other means of protection. But this…" he tapped the envelope… "Could be essential."
"So, if it works how come the Brits' Council doesn't use it?" she asked.
"Maybe they've never learnt of it, at least their senior folks. We got this only because I have friends among the community and they owed me."
"Really?" she eyed him.
"I saved a couple of fellows during the War in a tight spot."
"Really? Our war?" surprised look.
"They were mercenaries, rather fond of fighting, and the bounty pay in the Army was good." He shrugged. "Afterwards, one decided to sign on with the Service, he brought us to their expert people."
"And the Watchers' have never learnt of it? I thought they were the big boys in the occult?"
"Even the British have their limitations. And our friends aren't their greatest fans. Besides, Jim and I think the Watchers like having things balanced. They either like keeping their war with the Dark Forces going or are afraid the other side might retaliate heavily. We'd best get moving, I do not want anyone gossiping about us." He noted.
"Yeah, what with you have a fiancée and all…" she grinned.
"She can't help what she is, if what I've got on her is true. Poor thing's a victim as much as those she's taken." Sigh. "And she was abandoned by her own, the bastards. They couldn't even be bothered to give her peace." Grim look.
"Artie?" narrow look. "Are you getting soft on her?" she regarded his troubled, if make-up expanded face.
"No…But I can feel sorry for her. I owe her that much."
"Don't, Artie. Don't. She will kill you without a thought." Worried look.
"I think she'd think about it, now…And that's the sad thing." He shrugged. "But don't worry, it won't get in the way of the mission."
"Please don't let it, Artie. For your sake and the world's." anxiously.
"I know. Lets hurry, now. You first."
"Not too fast…That's as good a giveaway as any. I wonder…?" pause, thin smile.
"Yes?"
"Would she mind you betraying her with a whore more than as an agent? If it were me, I actually think I'd mind the whore more. Meaning you probably cared some but not enough to not look around." Smile, shrug to his look. "To me, that's worse than faking the whole thing…At least I could then believe you're true to someone."
He sighed. "Well, take care."
"Always…" she nodded. "Artie? There were two other things Jim mentioned in his telegram."
He eyed her…
"It wasn't just…Amazing…To see. It was…Tragic." She noted solemnly. "And he wanted me to give you this." Chuckling as she kissed him gently on the lips.
"Best to wipe that, your jealous Brit vamp has super senses." She grinned, offering handkerchief.
James, my darling boy…One of these days you'll get us in very hot water, Gordon thought, wiping quickly as Miss Sinclair left the car, a parasol opening and twirling as she entered the preceding car.
["Deuced indecent, the whole thing." Henderson groused to an adjacent fellow attendee. "Now the little nobody's speaking of spying whores and women vampires who hold places of responsibility? Thank God, he lays the worst on the Americans."]
…