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Chapter Twenty-Two

The clip clop of the horses' hooves sounded just outside and the carriage lurched with motion, letting William know they were off and well on their way out of Lady Aniston's country estate and back towards London. Some part of him was saddened by the revelation, but another part of him was happy that they would be returning to mother. It seemed fruitless to send her a letter when they'd only be gone for such a short time; even more fruitless when one considered there were more than enough people in their home to tend to her.

Still, it did bother him when he was gone for too long.

The part of him that found displeasure in their leaving was half because he liked the quiet of the country, and, half because it felt almost easier to be around Dare here. London was loud, busy, and it never smelled quite right. Too many people crammed into too many small places. While this wasn't his first time experiencing the country, the more often he came the more he felt it would better if he and mother moved after Reggie married. The fresh air and the lack of calamity would likely do her good.

Would Dare enjoy it more?

The thought hit him before he had time to consider stopping it altogether. It felt silly to muse about the future, to wonder about it. But he couldn't help it. He couldn't help the way his eyes slid over to his younger sister as her blue eyes stared out the window and focused on the passing farms and open expanse of woodland.

It was too soon to think about it, too soon to wonder. And yet, there was a very big part of him that selfishly wished she would marry and marry well. It was common knowledge among the gentry that his family didn't possess a large income. Many would say that Reggie should depend upon her good looks to win herself a match with deep pockets. They would also say that since William would be in charge of any contracts put forth for the marriage that he would do well to make every suitor aware that taking her hand would also include a very substantial price.

But William couldn't find it within himself to even pressure Reggie into such a thing. She knew; she was fully aware—more so that Lilith. And yet, he would never tell her that he wanted her to carry that burden.

He didn't want her to be unhappy, to marry for wealth alone.

But, that selfish desire had him imagining that she could be both happy and wealthy; that he could move mother to their country estate; that he could live there with Dare and neither of them would ever have to worry about society or marriage.

It felt as if he could live that life—very easily. And yet, a great distance existed between William's wants and the actual outcome.

And so, he set his mind to the good, the joy that was present now. He thought back to the afternoon they spent in each other's arms, sleeping the day away in total comfort. It brought an involuntary smile to his face; it was one he did not even feel as it pressed his cheeks upward and created dimples.

It was the first time in his life that someone had returned feelings of such intensity. He couldn't recall ever having felt this way even about Cecily. Dare wasn't an idea, a fantasy, an image he's painted in his mind that was forever out of his reach. He was real, breathing, and there. He didn't simply exist in the same room as him; he was with him, talking, smiling at him, and caressing his face with bright green eyes filled with want and compassion. No one… no one had ever quite looked at him that way before… as if…

…As if the whole world could rot so long as he was in it.

"You appear to be in a much better mood this morning, brother dear," Lilith said to him, breaking any real train of thought he had.

"Ah… do I?" His met her gaze, pulling away from the window where he'd been looking at nothing in particular.

"Very much so," Reggie agreed. "You felt as if you were a different person the whole country trip." Her eyes were watching him intensely. "Did… did you have a row with Dare?"

He blinked a few times. "Why do you ask?"

"Dare was decidingly absent while you were as well. Unless you both suffered from the same illness, I would wager it's quite obvious you had a tiff." Lilith smiled. "Come now, I understand being quiet among our peers, Will, but we're family.

"Did you have a fight?"

And then he frowned. For a brief moment he'd been worried that one or both of his sisters had figured something out, but it appeared as though they were merely worried about his friendship. Which, made sense. William was not known for being close to anyone aside from his own family. It was not impossible to think that they would imagine that this one friendship probably meant more to him than anyone else in the same predicament. Knowing him as they did they wouldn't question the very nature of how he'd reacted. Other men, perhaps, wouldn't have been so emotionally put out. But, William was hardly other men, and, perhaps that helped hide the true nature of his new relationship with Dare.

For once, his bookish and effeminate disposition actually worked in his favor.

"We had a bit of a disagreement," he admitted with a sigh. "However, it's all been worked out."

"Good," Reggie told him. "I was a little worried it would prevent me from lessons at Blackwood's."

Lilith chuckled at that. Her gloved hand came up and covered her mouth and her eyes shut just so.

"Is it so funny?" she asked, looking at Lilith.

William rolled his eyes. "We will go to Blackwood's. Perhaps not Monday; after all, you need fencing gear first. But, I shall send a calling card to ascertain if Tuesday is alright."

"I doubt very seriously that Reggie would want to run over there immediately after traveling all day the day before and part of the night," Lilith added. "Even if she wanted to, it would be quite rude of us to expect Dare or Lord Blackwood to accommodate for us."

"Naturally," Reggie replied, smirking. "But, I will look forward to Tuesday, if it permitted Tuesday, with passionate want."

"Indeed," William agreed.

From there, Lilith engaged their sister in conversation about where and how they would go to shop. While it wasn't common for women to be in shops that provided such clothing for men, Lily thought it would not be too difficult—especially if they lied and said they were buying it as a gift for a friend.

William turned them out, his eyes once more focusing on the countryside—hardly looking as his mind again traveled to a certain man… one that looked at him as if William actually meant something.

He didn't know what he was ready for, what his future would hold. But, he couldn't help but think that a future without Dare in it wouldn't be much of a future at all. Was it silly to think about that; to have such ideas so early in their change of relationship? He didn't… didn't understand it. It didn't feel as if he were moving fast. If anything, it felt like lines he'd read well, over and over again—lines from an old poem too dear to his heart to forget.

Buffy…

"Tell me you love me."

"I love you. You know I do."

"Tell me you want me."

"I want you…"

William stilled as several voices echoed in his mind. No, two—two voices. They felt like whispers he could barely figure out.

Buffy…!

"Will? You alright?"

He blinked several times, jumping as Lilith's voice cut through the thick haze of sounds, smells, and broken images wrought in fog.

"Will?" she asked again, brow knitting.

He shook his head. "Sorry, what?"

"I was asking when you wanted to stop. I know we've only just started, but it's good to think of these things now."

He nodded. "Whatever time if suitable for you," he finally said as he rubbed his head and tried to push aside the pain pricking at his subconscious. "I think… I think I still need a bit more rest. I'll take a nap if it's alright with you."

"Sleep," Reggie told him. "We'll wake you when we stop."

He felt her pat his knee, trying to comfort an ache that couldn't be. But, if she said anything else he didn't know what it was. Sudden exhaustion followed and he was lost in the space of his own mind once more—his dreams.

Voices, smells, and touches he couldn't quite grasp…

#

They'd left Aniston's long before most of the other party goers. Buffy had felt bad at first, thinking that not all of the servants enjoyed being roused from their bed quite so early. But, then Ian had told her that it wasn't uncommon for many of them to be up at five or six in the morning to get things going before everyone else got out of bed, wanting breakfast and to be dressed.

At present, they'd been on the road for about six hours. Buffy was both hungry and tired, wondering exactly when she'd get to eat. Ian had said something about an inn a bit up the way some time ago, but the bumpity bump of the carriage was gradually turning that hunger into nausea. She was pretty sure that by the time she made it home she'd be more than grateful for the modern convenience of a car. TVs, CD players, radios… she could do without that—even the internet. The Victorians were just starting to get decent plumping and working toilets, so yeah, she could. But, cars? Carriages were not romantic if you were going down a dirt road. They just made her want to throw up. Several times already she'd had to close her eyes, open then, and then close them again to combat the tremble in her stomach.

Buffy, for her part did her best to ignore it—telling herself she would feel better once she ate. She let her mind wander to why she was here—the exact reason for her hunger, ever present yawning, and the twist in her gut.

It felt as though she'd crossed a major hurdle. William was willing to pursue something with her—with her male alter ego. She wondered if she should be troubled or elated. Her relationship with Spike had never really had anything to do with dates, long night chats, or hand holding. Buffy never allowed for anything romantic, for anything that might make her think it was anything beyond physical need. She'd been lost before, she'd told herself; she'd known what walking down that path meant—what it meant to fall in love with a vampire. The broken, bitter, hateful affair that was theirs had been anything but roses and sunshine.

And so… how was she to go about this new part of their life? One that was built on lies she was forced to tell? This was William; this was a part of Spike that was no more—an aspect of his life that he'd left behind once he'd forsaken being among the living. While she didn't have an illusions that he would suddenly jump into bed—or onto the nearest surface—as he had before, she did have a real fear that things would eventually escalate. The dijinn had said he needed to accept her as she was now, but what in the hell did that mean?

It was then a breath of light filled the carriage; it reminded her a lot of Star Trek Next Generation when that guy Q jumped in and out of the scene. It hadn't really been her idea to binge watch the series, but Xander had won that night of rock/paper/scissors.

And just like that, Tara was sitting across from her garbed in dress attire much more appropriate for the time period. It was a cute dark purple dress made of satin. The small decorative hat on her head had this black mesh that covered part of her face.

Ian, for his part, jumped.

"It's alright," she told him, realizing he'd probably been half asleep when Tara made her entrance. "It's just a friend," she went on.

"Goodness," Ian said in a breath of words as he placed a hand on his chest; his eyes shut at the same time. "I know we demons have unique ways of taking to the scene, but…"

Tara laughed softly and placed a hand on the young man. She squeezed his shoulder. "I knew there was a chance you'd get the wiggins. I was hoping the dress might help—something familiar." A grin. "I guess not."

Ian smiled and met her gaze. "It's alright—really." And then he held out a hand. "Ian for now. Isabella, more often than naught."

"Tara," the brunette replied with a nod, taking his hand. She shook it once even as he moved to lift it to his mouth. "And I'm not a demon. PTB agent. Formerly dead, but that's another story." She couldn't help the blush that tinged her cheeks at he pressed his lips to her hand anyway.

"PTB? Powers…?" he asked.

"The very same. I'm Buffy's guide for now." She placed her black leather gloves hands in her lap and turned dark green eyes to her friend. "I wish I could say I was just here for a chat, but it's more than a check in."

"I figured," Buffy replied. "Say, you didn't bring anything to eat with you, did you?"

"Hungry?"

"My stomach it eating itself," she grumbled, slouching back in the now uncomfortable cushioned back of her seat.

Tara was silent for a moment and her eyes narrowed. She didn't seem to be looking at Buffy, but perhaps beyond her. And then she came back, saying, "After we talk you should reach an inn.

"But no," she said, shrugging with wane smile. "I don't have anything. Not exactly a magic food fairy here." A soft smile. "Sorry."

"Poo," the Slayer said with a pout. "Well… at least tell me you don't have bad news," she said more seriously. "I've had enough of that—some good, but mostly bad."

Tara nodded. "Your run in with the dijinn. You did good, Buffy. I how difficult that must have been for you."

It would be easy to say she didn't, but Buffy had a pretty good feeling Tara knew exactly how she'd felt. "What's up then?"

"Nothing really bad," she replied as she opened her hand in front of her. Another light much like the one that had brought her spliced the space and a book remained. "This is from the PTB. They want Kit to use it to separate Spike from William when the time comes."

Buffy took it in her hands. The cover was worn, leather, and burned in a language she didn't have a clue about. "Spell book?"

"PTB spell book," she confirmed with a nod. "You must safeguard it. This was recovered by a slayer seven generations before you and given to the demon that Whistler eventually replaced. There are many dangerous spells within that must never be allowed into the world again.

"However… he'll need it if you succeed."

Buffy nodded and set the book gently on the empty seat next to her.

"And I must stress this. You cannot perform the spell he finds, that he will find within the text, until after Spike comes back to himself. It will—."

"Send the world into a super apocalypse?" Buffy offered with a smirk.

Tara mirrored her gaze. "Something like that."

"No doing separating spell until after Spike is in the driver's seat—got it." She gave a single nod, leaning forward to her hands could grip onto the edge of the seat under her. "Can I ask you a few questions while you're around?"

"Of course. You've got about another ten minutes or so until the inn comes in sight."

Buffy wanted to smile at that knowledge, but the things she needed to ask were serious. "It's about the dijinn. I need to know some stuff. Things that he talked about…"

"Like?"

Buffy had been wondering about these things for a few days, at least since a few things had been figured out will William. Those days had been nice—complacent and endearing. It was short-lived, but it had been nice. And when she wasn't wondering about William and Spike she'd been wondering about her night with the demon who'd put them both here to begin with. She'd gone over the many things he'd said that she could remember. She didn't know when Tara would show up again, but she figured it'd be soon. She knew she had to ask her about it; these weren't really questions Kit could answer; they felt like PTB questions. She didn't know if they could be answered, some of them, but with Tara in her corner it was worth a shot.

"What did he mean when he said William had to accept me as I am now? He's already agreed to—well—date me…? I guess?" She didn't really know what the Victorian word for it was; though, that was neither here nor there.

"Sorry," Ian finally said. "I'm only hearing about this now," he told Tara, looking at her and then Buffy. "Accept you? He must mean as a man, Buffy. At least, that's what I can gather from the whole 'as you are now' part."

"That's essentially true," Tara confirmed with a nod.

"Ok…" Buffy edged. "He hasn't done that yet…?"

Tara wiggled in her seat, quiet. Another blush came.

Buffy blinked.

Ian looked over at Tara for a while. He stared at her as they both waited for an answer. And really, this only appeared to make her blush further. Finally, Ian just chuckled. "Oh, I get it now."

"What?" Buffy asked, looking between the two of them. What wasn't being said? What wasn't she understanding that was too embarrassing to say?

"Your little bird of a guide is too shy to really say it."

"I-It's not that—entirely," Tara got out. "I just…"

Ian took that moment to look at Buffy. "What she means to say is William has to initiate intimate relations between the two of you."

Tara added, "Not just halfway either. He's got to be the one to do it too. He's got to be the one to feel comfortable enough to do it."

"Sex?" Buffy finally blurted.

"Yes," Tara confirmed, face a red as a ripe tomato. Buffy could see her hands itching to move and cover it. "It's not that you have to, you know, actually do it. But, he has to commit to it in the moment not knowing you're a woman. Doing that will mean that it's not about the parts you have Buffy—who you appear to be.

"It's all woven into the wish, the roadblock of a wish the dijinn set in motion. He… he twisted things in such a way that you would feel the same way Spike did for all that time."

Buffy didn't say anything.

Tara sighed, but this time it was more out empathy.

"Well… alright… so. Yeah." The blond shook her head. "At least I know. Next question.

"If Spike wished for his soul how did this thing turn out the way it did?"

"It was the wording," Tara told her. "I know that. But…"

"But?"

"There's more to it than that, I think." She bit her lip. "I'll look into it for you, but I don't have an answer for you now.

"There are things I just know when you ask them. You know? But certain other things I have to ask."

Buffy nodded. It wasn't what she'd been hoping for, but it'd do for now. "One last question." She said this as Ian knocked on the top of the carriage and stuck his head out the window to tell the driver to stop in the next town so they could eat and stretch their legs.

If Tara couldn't answer the other then she was fairly certain she wouldn't be able to answer this one right away either. "The dijinn said a few odd things to me when we spoke. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

Tara's eyes narrowed in thought, as if she were looking back—thinking. Her fingers touched her chin.

"Something about two hundred years and eons." She wrinkled her nose. "It was… weird. Do you know what he meant?"

"No," she admitted, not moving. "But, I'll ask about that also." She took a deep breath inward. "I think this is your stop. Expect me in a week or two at most—maybe sooner." She smiled at Ian. "It was good to meet you, Isabella."

"And you as well."

As the carriage came to a stop Buffy stood as best she could and reached out to hug Tara. "Thanks—again."

She hugged her back. "I'll see you soon," she whispered. "You should know—black's a good color on you."

As Buffy moved away to ask her what she meant—she wasn't wearing black today—but, she flashed out of sight immediately.

"You alright?" Ian asked.

Buffy frowned curiously. "Yeah, I think so." Was it possible for Tara to be just as riddlely as Whistler sometimes? Was it some weird job requirement?

"Good, let's go eat," he told her as he opened the door. "And catch up. You've been keeping quite a bit from me the last few days."

She laughed as she pushed the thought aside, getting out just after him after she tucked the spell book somewhere secret in the carriage. "Yeah, sure, full update coming your way." She'd think on it more—much later after a full tummy and a long nap on the way back home. You know, when her bones weren't aching from all the bumps.

Stupid carriages.

AN :: I don't know what came over me, but I figured I'd just go with it. Maybe I felt guilty for making you wait… maybe? Who knows. It probably helps that I have the chapter outlines written. I work better with some organization in tow. Ha.

Anyway, tell me what you think if you feel like it. Hope you enjoyed the chapter.

—Blade