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 XLII...
Night, crossing Illinois…
Rather odd this…Olive thought, adjusting herself in the bed of Vladimir's sleeping compartment…
Naturally the Count de la Cule having gallantly swapped his sleeper for his still recovering assistant's berth after their day's work…
And with equal gallantry, made certain he'd been seen entering said berth for the night…
Heaven or Hell forbid anyone, particularly my fiancée, suspect any hanky-panky going on…She thought, a bit wryly.
And yet…Was decent of Vladimir to make the gesture…If of course that of a decadent aristocrat flinging a little favor to a long-suffering underling…Ollie had appreciated the swap and I, well...
One can be a revolutionary and a ferocious killer vampire and still want to maintain one's reputation as a lady…
And I'd never want Ollie to think ill of me…
And why not sleep in a real bed? I've done it before on assignment and I've been more or less keeping human hours these last few…A little native soil from the crate under the sheet to make it comfy…Voila…It's fine.
Just a bit of getting used to again…Hmmn.
Vladimir couldn't have been making a little nasty dig here…Offering the sleeper with its possibilities for a rendezvous with my intended?
Well, fortunately, my Ollie is not that sort of man…
Though…Might be rather nice to spend an old-fashioned, shall we say, mortals' night of lusty bliss before the inevitable turning.
But, that can just as well wait for the wedding. Be nicer then, really. A lovely start to our life, then Unlife together.
A light mist by her bed became thicker…Then…
"Vladimir?!" she sat up in bed…Thank the demon gods decently clad in my nightgown for this night. Frowning at the elegant figure of Dracula before her…
It being that in my human days, I had rather favored sleeping in the nude when alone…
"A thousand apologies, Olive. Sorry to disturb your rest." He offered a slight bow. "I was about to decamp from my berth to my baggage car crate now that the staff is mostly abed…And encountered a passing passenger who mistook me in my insubstantial form for a possible fire. I had to hurry to the nearest safe…"
Sounds in the hallway…Clearly several had been aroused by the passenger suspecting fire…
"…haven. Again, sorry. I'll be on my way as soon as possible." He offered, a bit sheepishly. "If I could have remained in the berth I would have, but the risk of exposure…Not to mention sunrise immolation by the first attentive porter opening curtains."
"It's fine." She eyed him a bit narrowly.
But it's your head if this is a bad joke, partner.
"Just don't let anyone find you in here." She hissed.
"Of course…" nod. "If you'll let me know when I can safely leave, with your permission I'll decompose at once…" turning to mist at her nod.
A soft rap at her door… "Everything ok in there?" Conductor Johnson's voice. "We've had a fire warning."
"Oh?" she called. "No, everything's fine in here, Mr. Johnson."
Damn…I'd best get up and show them I'm alone or away fly the rumors…
And nothing more easily lost than a single woman's reputation.
Hell, even Heinrich would be a bit concerned. I've always had to be careful in his service, he takes "respectable veneer" very seriously.
"Just a mo! Let me give you a chance to look in here, just in case. One moment, please!" she called, rising out of bed and hastily grabbing a robe.
"Olivia?" Oliver's voice from behind door. "There was a call of fire, you're all right?"
Oh my…She beamed. He is just so…
"Fine, Ollie!" gay call. "I'll be right out, just putting my slippers on!"
She opened door to find Johnson in uniform, Oliver behind him in nightdress of robe, nightgown, cap, and two other passengers behind him, a man and woman unknown to her, in similar garb, looking more curious than worried.
"Oh, good." Wainswright beamed at her. "I just wanted to be sure you were all right in there. Fires on a train can flare in a moment."
Aww…God, are all Yank males so sweet? Underneath those awful accents…? She smiled warmly at him.
"I'm just fine. But if our conductor would take a quick look…? Just in case I'm missing anything?"
"Sure, sure…Can't hurt to be careful…" Johnson nodded, pressing forward into the room as she stepped back and then slipped round him to reach Wainswright.
"Ollie? You came running down here to check on me?" shyly fond beam, patting arm.
"Of course, Ollie…" he grinned. "Can't take chances with my new intended."
"And you're fine?" she noted, hastily.
"Apple pie order, sweetheart." He smiled, nodding.
Sweetheart…She beamed, involuntarily lowering head and blushing gently. Oh…
God forgive me, dear heart…Gordon thought, staring at her.
And help me make the right decision here.
"Well, alls fine in here." Johnson came out. "Sorry to have disturbed you, Miss."
"Not at all. I appreciate…" she caught sight of Vladimir in the hallway now behind the two other passengers.
Nicely done, Vladimir…Slipping out like that.
"I heard talk of fire…?" he called. "Is everyone all right?"
…
A somewhat annoyed-looking Mrs. Potter and her husband in the train's walkway, both in night clothes, Elisabeth in nightgown and robe, Peter in nightgown, robe, and cap…Her annoyance clearly at Peter, in fact at his attempt to investigate the uncertain cries of "Fire" without her.
Bejessus…What's he thinking, that's how they'd get him, strollin' out alone in plain sight at night. His best bud, the Count and that secretary of his…I don't care if she's gone and got herself hitched and had the typhoid with me, she's not what she seems.
Though her annoyance and hackles raised exponentially by his sly delight in her concern, made obvious by a casual whispered remark that her views on his dispensability had certainly changed…
Funny hubbie I got…
"Well…" Vladimir, standing by Peter, pleasantly. "Seems the alarm was for naught, thank goodness. Sorry you were disturbed as well, my friend. And you, Mrs. Potter." Smile.
"Yeah, thanks." She nodded, a bit curtly.
Slayers need their beauty rest, I see…Olive thought, glancing over as she happily chatted with Oliver and several other passengers who'd taken the opportunity to congratulate the couple.
Must admit, Vladimir is right…Humans can be entertaining, for short periods…
"Well, if there's no fire, lets head back to bed, Peter." Elisabeth urged.
Something funny in that, fat boy? She eyed the smiling Johnson who'd overheard…And who quickly quenched smile and found something fascinating to observe down the hallway.
"Yes, I think we'd all best get back to bed." Vladimir agreed, pleasantly. "We'll have a busy day tomorrow with our transfer to the Union Pacific line at Council Bluffs. Oh, Mr. Johnson?" he looked over to the conductor. "Council Bluffs…Do you know if that refers to the natives' use of the place to hold their council meetings in the past? Just something of potential interest to my readers…Likewise potential." He smiled to Potter who returned.
Johnson, a bit bemused… "Well, sir…I'm not sure, it may be."
"Miss Giles?" Vladimir called over… "Do you think, perhaps tomorrow…?"
"Yes, sir…I'll see if I can look it up!" she replied, quite pleasantly.
May as well get into the spirit of the work…She reflected. And properly researched and written, an article or two might well generate a bit of nice revenue…
Not that I doubt Ollie can take proper care of me, but I feel, if possible, women should bring an income of their own to the relationship.
…
"Stop with the smug, Peter…" Elisabeth eyed him alongside her in their berth. "It don't suit ya."
"Sorry…But it was rather sweet, your change of attitude towards me."
Narrow look to his smile… "I could be persuaded to change back, ya know."
"No, I doubt that."
"Arsehole…" she hissed, looking away.
"I love you too." He noted. "And I'm as worried about you if not more so…"
"Really?" arch tone, frown…But eyes belying…
"Goddamn you, you little tooth puller, you're gotta get us both killed or worse." Shaking head.
"As long as we're together…" he noted quietly.
"Oh, shut yer trap and do me…" she glared, reaching for him. "I love yous so, Peter. I can't believe I could love anybody so much." She eyed him.
"You better match that, jackass…" mock frown.
"I still can't believe I could fall for a Yank girl." He noted.
"You!" she struck him on chest.
"Whoa!" he groaned, coughing.
"Lucky I love ya." She noted, slightest of smiles… "Pete, serious now…Don't go out like that again, not while we're on this train, with them."
"You're that sure?" he eyed her. "You know they could have killed me or…" slight wave of hands. "Easily, days ago. Especially when you were taken ill."
"They need me alive and if they can manage it, clueless about 'em. And there was no need to take ya then…"
"We've still a ways to go on the Union Pacific to Uta…"
"U-tah…" she corrected. "When ya gonna learn the lingo?"
"Hopefully never…" he smiled. "Come now, you love my accent."
"Yeah, yeah…Sorta." She sighed. "Well? I did ask for it, didn't I?" slightly roguish if shy smile.
"My lady…" he nodded, embracing her.
"What?" as she eyed him.
"They're still saying they're making for Frisco…" she noted.
He sighed. Well…Business, occult or otherwise before mind-blowing ecstasy, I suppose…
"I wondered about that myself…" he admitted. "Shouldn't they be going to Los Angeles? And our Hellmouth?"
Arch look at her frown…Gettin' possessive, are we? Well…
Guess it is a joint project, now…Oh, God forgive me…And spare my dearest love. I've always done my all, how's about a bit for the Slayer? Just keep him safe, it's all I'll ask, Lord.
[Cicely staring at William's earnest face as he read…]
"I thought they might come up with an excuse…But maybe they wanted to keep us…Me…Off guard. Take us once we leave the train and we're on the trail, less noise and falderal…"
"Makes sense…" he agreed.
"Yeah…Still…" she paused. "But there's been no sign of Nast in Los Angeles as yet."
He stared…Then frowned.
"Ok, I met somebody at the station stop this mornin'…" she nodded, rather pleased in fact at his sharpness. "Whiles you and yer pal the Count were jawing Roomanian…"
"Romanian…" Peter corrected.
"Ya, Roomanian…Poetry. Just a messenger the Council sent on hearin' about my…Willie."
"I see…" he paused. "But, how did they know you were on this train…?"
Noncommittal look…
"There's someone on the train, isn't there?" he eyed her. "We do have help?"
"Someone…I don't know who, he or she's not Council." She shrugged.
"Not from your Council? Then…?"
"Someone who doesn't want the other side to win…" she noted. "Government, the fellow said, but they're keepin' in touch with my guys." She gave an embarrassed look.
"You know I don't go round meetin' guys alone all the time, this was just…"
"Last time you met someone alone you married him…" smile.
"Funny boy…" she glared.
"Government? Your government?"
She nodding… "Us…U.S."
"Police, like our Detective? Or…?"
"Secret boys…The Service." She frowned at his look. "The US Secret Service."
"Really? Spies, you mean?"
"Yeah, straight out from Washington."
"Well, glad to hear someone has a proper regard for my wife." He noted.
"C'man…" she growled, but clearly not truly displeased.
"But you've no idea? They gave you no idea?" he eyed her. "That's hardly help for you."
"The Council don't like others, especially government boys from anywhere, even their own Brits, mucking around their stalls…And these days what with the Brits nearly helping the Rebs in the War and the Alabama prizes thing…There's not a lot of good feelin' on either side." She noted. "But at least we have someone aboard who's aware what's up and might help out, in a pinch. And me being a Yank, maybe they'd be nice enough ta give me a nod when the time comes."
"Charming." Frown. "Will they really help, Bess? Or are they just after the Hellmouth as well?"
"They're talkin' to the Council…They're concerned about the Hellmouth." She shrugged.
"But not willing to reveal themselves…?"
"They've their game, I've mine. I've had a dealing or two with 'em before." She shrugged. "Those boys were decent enough. They'll help if they can. After all they're not Slayers or even Watchers."
"But can we trust them?"
"They're my countrymen, Peter." Stern look. "And one could ask the same about my own guys…Our own guys…" smile. "I mean I guess I'm part Brit by law now, right?"
He regarded her… "Seriously? It's not enough they give you so little help…?"
"There are some…Now and then." she shrugged. "Power's a big lure for mortals too."
He shook head… "Power…"
"Corrupts, they say. Ya know Lincoln used to say, ya wanna test a man's character, give 'em power." She offered wan smile. "Maybe worse than the coin…"
He blushed, just a bit… "Bess…"
"I know you were never in it for the coin, darlin'." She patted him gently. "God, I only wish you were. I'd send you off with all I could grab."
"But why not just kill Nast's people, if they are his, that is? He'd be in the dark then…"
"That's cold, considerin' the Count's been ya bosum pal these last few…" she eyed him.
"If he is, as you think…And befriending me in order to get close to me so as to kill or take my wife…?" he returned stare. "I think our friendship would be tested by that. And I hope you wouldn't let his charm of manner keep you from dealing with him. Even Miss Giles…Hard as it might be…"
"Please…I was ready to kill you if I had to, before…And you're human." She nodded at him. "Abandoning you to them, same as killin' ya, ya know." Careful stare.
"But you didn't…"
"When time comes, I'll take care of them both as needs do. Easy if I can, they bein' such nice traveling buds." Faint smile. "But it is best to leave 'em be for now. I'm not 100% sure on them and if they are, well…I need to find Nast and they can't kill me till I go and open the Hellmouth."
"Then why play their game?" he noted. "If the Hellmouth is secure for now and they can't open it, why not follow them to San Francisco…Or at least wait at our stop in Uta…h…" smile. "And see if they suddenly change plans once we've supposedly headed out."
"I dunno…It's hard even for me to keep watch on them when they use more of what they got, I think they'd slip round us and figure out we were watchin' for them…We'd have to be the ones changin' plans, Peter."
"I get a telegram from Holsted telling me to go to San Francisco at once to help save his practice. I was initially headed there. Or you, one from your aunt saying she's found you a better spot there…" he eyed her. "Easy enough. And if they stick to their story, we'd get on the Central Pacific in a day or less, with most of the train's company. Far safer than crossing the desert in a wagon, largely alone."
"It's not a bad play…" she shrugged. "But I have my orders. Secure the Hellmouth and make sure it's not under attack in any ways."
"To hell with their orders…" he insisted. "They've been of no help to you at all in this."
"Not quite true, Pete. Two men died for me." She eyed him. "And Merritt didn't even know me, outside what they told him."
"Can they send someone to Los Angeles? If you can get in touch with them? Or perhaps this American group?"
"If Nast is there and finds em pokin' about…" she shrugged. "No, it's got be me, Pete. There's no one else who has a chance against him."
"They sound bloody useless, if you ask me." He shook head. "But then, so am I, I suppose. I was a fool not to try to win their confidence…Miss Giles and the Count's I mean."
She blinked.
"Let them think I thought you were just a thief or confidence person…Ask for their help in getting the book to the police or just stealing it. I could have found out so much more…"
"You coulda got transformed, ya mean. And then ya'd know it all. And so would they. Lovely." Glare.
"We know as much as we're likely to get till they come out in the open." She noted.
"But…I'm willing to try the other idea." She put up a hand. "When we get off the train, you'll get us the wagons and what we'll need…I'll keep a watch on them, best as I can. And we'll see what they do."
"Well?" she eyed him after a pause…
"Sounds about as desperate and foolish as when you were against it…" he noted.
"Yeah…All we got, really, I'm afraid." Sheepish look.
"The Yank or Yanks would probably get off too…" he pointed out. "At least we'd know who they were."
"You might be surprised…" she shrugged. "Those birds may not know or believe in the magics but they're great at disappearin'…"
"Well, at least we'll know about Miss Giles." He noted. "If she leaves her intended now, with a formal proposal in hand, she's got to be one of them."
"Really? How many women did you know back in England, Peter?" she stared at him. "Besides your momma and sister, I mean." Grin.
…