full 3/4 1/2   skin light dark       
 
Shadows of the past by Kur
 
2
 
<<     >>
 
Title: Shadows of the past
Author: Kur
Disclaimer: nothing is mine. Only the plot.
Rating: ???
Pairing: Buffy & Spike
Spoilers: Season 2
Summary: Buffy gets more than transformed by the costume in S2's Halloween and discovers the reason she couldn't ever beat Spike.
Thanks: to Melissa, my wonderful, extraordinary beta. She’s the best!!!

CHAPTER 2

“Tell me how to stop the damn spell!” – Giles voice was an outrageous typhoon.

Ethan looked at him from the floor as he wondered how many years had passed since the last time he had seen Rupert in all his Ripper’s glory. “Break the statue of Janus…”

A bright circle spread from the splintered head and Giles blinked noticing the subtle change in the air. It wasn’t as heavy, as suffocative. He inhaled deeply before turning to his foe.
The empty floor looked back at him with a black, empty face.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
William let the heavy velvet drapes fall and returned to his chair beside the bed. Under the gas lamp and with her face now clean, the girl looked even younger. Innocent. Lost. He shook the thought off. What was going on with him tonight? Words were attacking him as frantic eagles. The house creaked on its foundations and, in the silence, the sound crept along the walls as grotesque toothy maggots eager to devour the whole place.

Buffy fidgeted under the blankets and opened her eyes a little. A moonbeam played on the ceiling and bathed the waving orange walls. A man; his glasses gleamed like diamonds under the moonlight.

“Oh, Giles… - her voice came from a long distance as if she was still running through thousands of grubby alleys - thank God… I had this terrible nightmare…” - she paused, uneasy. The silence stretched and wrapped everything. “Are you there?”

The hesitation and the thread of fear that slithered in her tone shook William intensely.
“Shhhh, shhhh, love. Everything is fine. Go back to sleep now. There’s nothing to be afraid of…”

His own eyes were sliding down no matter how hard he fought back. Besides, it wasn’t a proper gentleman’s behaviour to be sitting in a corner of a lady’s room. In the dark, watching her sleep. Gazing her shape merely outlined by the moon. He wondered how it would be to have a female shape waiting for him in his bed. Every morning. Every night. Every time he shifted on the mattress her scented, delicate, naked shape would be there. Warm and soft arms that would welcome his embrace; her back to press himself and be lost. Be free of every rigid convention. Someone to laugh with, softly under the blankets. Someone who loved him. Someone to love.
It was time to retreat to the guest room with its dusty white sheets covering every piece of furniture. Shapeless ghosts in an abandoned lot. He didn’t even push the sheet back but laid on it, his arms folded on his chest, as another piece of forgotten articles.


Buffy woke up with a leap, sitting straight on the bed, her fingers twisting the soft velvet bedspread. The sunrays slipped through the half opened drapes as an unfurled golden fan, glimmering on the ornamented orange paper wall, caressing the mahogany closet, crashing on its mirror with thousands of colourful flashes. A delightful mixture of smells floated in the air; waxed floors, lilies in a blue glass vase, lavender scent spinning gently from the sheets. There was an opened book on the bedside table. “Poems”, by Rossetti. A small leather notebook and a few coins. Little ordinary things of every day life. Tears sprang to her eyes but were soon wiped away. It hadn’t been a nightmare after all. The globe of the gas lamp blinked its crystal eye confirming it. She traced the scar on her temple, still painful and swollen and so real! Getting out of the bed, she stood in front of the large mirror. The nightdress pooled around her hidden feet as a quiet spring. At least dizziness didn’t threaten to blow her out. A quick knock at the door made her jump.

“Oh, oh, sorry!” – the man turned round as if somebody had slapped his blushing face – “I thought you were still sleeping… Now that you are up maybe you want to join us downstairs? You must be thirsty…”

She looked around and her eyes stopped on the torn silk pink dress. It was lying on the back of a chair as a defeated warrior.

“You can wear that mantle over there” - he said and she frowned. Maybe he had eyes on his back.
Suddenly she was alone again. She put the soft mauve mantle on and faced the mirror again. The rippled laced sleeves swung as doves every time she moved one hand. With a strap of her old dress she tied her long, bothering hair up and went downstairs, barefoot. There were carpets everywhere and nobody would ever noticed, as the long skirt skated behind her with a funny noise.
“Okay, a cup of tea won’t hurt. As long as they don’t start asking questions I don’t have the answers to…” Her fingers left the stair rail reluctantly.

“Oh, dear, come, come here” - a woman dressed in a simple black poplin dress appeared in the sunlit corridor grabbing her by one arm, leading her to the drawing room. Buffy scrutinized the room in a rush of green eyes. The walls were covered in white flowered paper, overcrowded with paintings. A dark sofa, a white fireplace. A fancy red and blue carpet. Two little tables were placed under each window, a crystal vase full of fresh roses on each one of them. Crowded bookshelves on the other side of the room, a black piano and a bigger table with a white knitted tablecloth. It was set in the most extraordinary way; silver ashtrays with buns and rolls, china white cups with blue birds and a thing gold rim. Buffy sighed trying to control her heart speed while she sat on a red velvet chair.

“How are you feeling this morning?”

There was a gentle look on the woman’s eyes; some sort of inner kindness that made her think of her own mother. Always eager to help others, no matter who they were… Buffy swallowed the lump in her throat as the image of Joyce and her tender smile changed to one of Giles and his lectures. You can do this. I mean, after a year listening to his sometimes snooty accent you HAD to learn something.

“I’m better, thank you.” - Amazing! A little sample of Rupert! In spite of her jumpiness, she almost giggled at it. “I really want to thank you for helping me, madam. I’m truly sorry for…”

“You should thank my son. He found you and brought you home.” - she looked at the man coming into the room with a silver teapot. He placed it on the table and smiled shyly.

“It was the least I could do.” - he finally said and she was surprised by his rich, deep tone. He seemed so fragile with those ridiculous glasses… Yet, she couldn’t help a smile. Ridiculous, yes, but so cute! Some sort of teddy bear, another Mr. Gordo to hug… Buffy coughed just to erase the stupid idea and nearly sank her nose into the smoking cup.

“Hope you like Earl Grey, dear” - the lovely lady offered her a creamy roll, - “I’m afraid we have run out of any other.”

“So, I’m sure this will sound rather rude but…what happened to you? The carriage almost killed you.”

“William, dear! Let her have her tea in peace! There’s enough time to know…”

“No, no, - Buffy put the cup on its saucer with a harsh sound, - I don’t remember much… To be honest, I don’t remember anything… We were attacked I guess and somebody hit me but…” What can I say!!! Not the truth that’s for sure! I’ll love to see their faces: oh, yes, but Halloween night was a gigantic fiasco and that fucking dress served no purpose but to send me straight to hell. They’ll probably phone the next shrink if they exist here. “I’m afraid I don’t even remember who I am.” And that WAS true for the most horrifying two hours of my life. Anyway, it’ll do. If I can’t say anything, they’ll stop asking questions and I’ll be safe for a while. Maybe I should cry a little…

“Don’t worry, dear. You’ll remember everything. Those head wounds are pretty dangerous but yours wasn’t that serious. Give it time. Another roll? So, William, are you going to Drury Lane tonight? Margaret told me they are showing this marvellous piece…”

“Tonight is the meeting, mother…”

Buffy couldn’t but stare at him. He had sounded as if he was going to launch a secret rocket to Jupiter. That meeting had to be a hell of a gathering.

“Oh, yes, the meeting” - she smiled at his son in the most encouraging and beloved way, - “That’s a pity, though. You could have taken our guest here. See if she can meet somebody who she’s acquainted to. Oh, don’t look so appalled, darling! Everybody goes to the theatre and it would be the best place ever to find somebody who knows you…”

But I’m not planning on spending another night in this stinking city no matter how kind you are. I have to find the way back home and…

“…to the meeting with you?”

His shocked gaze stopped Buffy’s thoughts.

I should rescue him. I mean, he saved me and maybe it’s not about a trip to Jupiter but about a woman. But, if I say no, she will probably think I want to stay in her house forever… What can I do? God, some help here.

“She hasn’t an appropriate outfit for the occasion” - his cheeks went even redder if that was possible, - “I’m terribly sorry but it’s the truth.”

“Of course it is!” – she agreed too loudly – “I really appreciate your concern, madam, but you have done enough providing me some place to rest… I think I should go to the police station. Perhaps they could help me to find… to find my family.” Oh, stupid me! Worst line ever! I won’t even know what to say if they take me to the police. How is it that I can’t find anything cleverer to say? Damn it!

“Well, a police station is not a suitable place for a lady, that is all I will say. As for the outfit, I can lend her one of mine. It will not be too fancy, of course, - she giggled in a charming way and the image of Joyce resurfaced in Buffy’s mind, - but it won’t be so out of date as well.”
“I have to go for the newspaper, mother” - William stood up abruptly, nearly knocking the chair down, - “Miss…”

Buffy saw him running away and a threat of guilt sang in her veins. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset him. I’m so…”

“Oh, don’t worry dear! It’d take more than this to get William angry” - she poured the tea in Buffy’s cup for the third time, - “As a matter of fact, I doubt anything would get him lose his temper.”

tbc...
 
<<     >>