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Strip Snap by Lilachigh
 
Chp 15 Like ice
 
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Strip Snap by Lilachigh


Chp 17 Like Ice


William flung himself down onto the bed next to her and lay, gazing up at the rocky ceiling. He clasped his hands behind his head and sighed. His life had taken such an odd turn since that night in London, the night of Cecily’s party. But oddly, he wasn’t unhappy. There was a part of him that welcomed the strange happenings – as if he’d been waiting all his life for something miraculous to happen to him and now it had.

The world of London, home, mother, a life of quiet gentility, not rich, not poor, trying to fit in, trying to be good enough for - her. It had all gone. In a blink of an eye. He couldn’t even remember it going.

He was alive over a hundred years later than his own time. He was in a foreign country seeing marvels and inventions that amazed and astounded him. And, strangest of all, he was a vampire. Why didn’t that worry him? He should have felt sick with disgust and self-hatred. He was a good Christian, went to church with mother every Sunday, took communion, sang hymns, listened to the long, long sermons, tried to be a good man. Being evil, a blood-drinking vampire should have terrified and disgusted him. But – it didn’t.

Apparently he’d killed, hundreds of people, but that had been Spike. Not him. He felt no guilt for Spike’s crimes. And indeed, were they crimes if that was what you were born to do. Did the lion feel guilt when it tore out a gazelle’s throat?

He rolled over and propped himself up on one elbow. The woman sitting on the edge of the bed filled his gaze. Miss Buffy – what a whimsical name – Summers. Was she the reason that he accepted what he’d become so easily?

She had shown him another world – not just the geographical one, but also a world of physical beauty and power and passion. William frowned. There were tears in her eyes and she was staring down at her hands, unhappiness plain on every inch of her body.

“You say the charm won’t work because you love Spike,” he said.

“And you love Cecily.”

William ran a finger down her cheek. “I know I am new to this magical world, but it seems a very strange charm if there is no chance of it working at all.”

Buffy leant back against the crimson pillows, soothed by his hand stroking her hair. She found herself smiling. William was logical in a way Spike could never be. “You’re saying we’re wrong in the way we’re interpreting the words?”

William shrugged. “You may be surprised to hear this, Miss Buffy, but I – I write – well, I try to write poetry.” He caught her glance and ducked his head, embarrassed. “Yes, I’m sure it is not accepted in this world and time, but in my days, men wrote verses to their lady loves. I know I am not a good poet. I try, but sometimes I cannot find the right words to express my innermost feelings.”

“Hey, I can’t find the words to express myself in words most of the time!”

William smiled, pleased to see that some of the strain was leaving her face. “You’re very kind, but I know my limitations. But one thing I do know is that sometimes poetry says one thing and means another. Perhaps the charm is such a verse.”

“A demon’s fire changes all,
The Old Returns,
Love Alone can break the thrall,
Passion Burns,
Past and present merged must be
By Love, desire and need times three” Buffy repeated slowly, the words etched in her brain in a way poetry never did in class. “Seems straightforward to me. And it did to the others, as well. What else could it mean?”

William jumped off the bed and held out his hand to her. Standing there in tight black T-shirt and jeans, he looked far more like Spike than he had since he’d appeared out on the island.

She reached out and he pulled her off the bed and held her close. “I suggest we wait and see what happens. Unless – ” his eyes gleamed with mischief – “unless you’d like to experiment. We could make love here, in Spike’s bed, to see if that helped. If I vanish and Spike returns, then – well, you’d know that the charm was right, after all.”

Buffy gazed back at the inviting spread of velvet and silk and fought the temptation that swirled over her. Then a cold chill ran through her. If they did – well – have sex and Spike came back, then all her friends would know exactly what they’d done. They’d know, without any doubts, that she loved Spike. And what would happen then? OK, she’d have Spike, but – how could that work? Would he move in with her? A Slayer and a vampire living under the same roof. Oh yes, that was really going to go down well with everyone. She’d have no friends, no family, the whole intricate fabric of her Slayer life would be torn apart.

“We haven’t got time – they’ll be waiting for us,” she muttered and turned away, heading for the tunnel that lead back to the Magic Shop.

William stared after her. He could sense the battle that was going on inside her, but realised he didn’t fully understand. All he could do was be there for her, he decided and wondered what it was about this Spike that made him such a good mate for this very special woman.

He wandered around the bedchamber of the crypt, examining the books, the clothes, notepads, pencils, a sketchbook full of charcoal drawings of Miss Buffy and Miss Dawn, bottles of wine and whisky, the atmosphere of the place. And he realised that it should have felt strange and unfamiliar to him, but it didn’t. It felt like home.

He ran his fingers through his hair and wondered exactly where the magical item was inside his head that the military had placed there. Mr Harris had taken great delight in telling him about that. It made him incapable of harming another living thing, apparently. Which was good, because he had no desire to hurt anything.

“William!”

He could hear her calling him from deep under the ground and, with a last look at the crypt, turned and walked after her.

Later that night, William looked up from where he and Dawn were sitting on the sofa, eating a confection called popcorn and watching the box in the corner of the room that provided the moving pictures.

Buffy came downstairs, pulling on her jacket. “Going out on patrol, Dawnie. Willow’s upstairs in her room. Go to bed soon. I’ll see you tomorrow, William.”

The vampire stood up. “Patrol, Miss Buffy? Is this another military aspect of your life I have yet to learn about?”

“Well, if you call wandering around graveyards, hunting for vamps and demons a military thing, then yes. And, actually, I’d rather you didn’t, because hey, had a boyfriend once who was far too involved with the whole soldier, soldier bit.”

“My father wished me to enter the army,” William said reminiscently. “But he died before I was old enough to do so and although I would have done so for his sake, I had to stay home to take care of Mother.”

Buffy stared at him. Odd, she’d never really thought about Spike’s father. Somehow in all the Angel/Dru/Darla siring muddle, his actual real life dad had got overlooked. “What was he like?”

“Shall I tell you as we go,” he suggested. “I would find a patrol interesting to watch, I am sure.”

She hesitated, then nodded. Perhaps it would be a good idea to have him in her sight. “OK, but stand back while I’m working. Spike interfered all the time!”

William raised a scarred eyebrow and her stomach churned. “I would certainly not want to cause you the same sort of annoyance.”

“You have no idea of the sort of annoyance you are causing me,” Buffy muttered under her breath as they walked along the sidewalk towards the cemetery.

“My father was a military man,” William said suddenly into the silence. “I’m afraid I was a great disappointment to him.”

“Why?”

“He wanted a son to be like him, to follow in his footsteps. I’m afraid I was no good at sport. I can ride, of course, but I’m not very good with a gun and I found the marching and saluting especially difficult when I was a child. Father used to make me practice every morning, rain or shine. I had to march up and down the garden path, two hundred times, salute and execute the correct turn each time. If he caught me out of step, I would have to go back to the beginning and start again.”

Buffy found that without realising, she’d reached out to grasp his hand. She had an awful picture in her mind of a small boy walking backwards and forwards in rain, wind, even snow, trying to impress the dictator that was his father. “That’s awful, William. A form of torture.”

William laughed gently. ‘Torture. Goodness me, no, Miss Buffy. A child has to be taught his lessons, to obey his elders and betters. My father was very strict and wanted me to go into the Army. So my training began very early. Sadly, though, he died when I was thirteen.”

“In some great battle.”

“No. Measles.”

“Oh!”

“And what about your father and mother? Are you and Miss Dawn orphans?”

“Mom died – quite recently.” Buffy found the tears welling up in her eyes and swallowed hard. She wondered if it was the right time to tell him that she’d died, too. “My Dad – well – he’s alive. But he and Mom got divorced some years back now. He’s with someone else.“

William stopped in mid stride. “A divorce? Goodness – I don’t believe I’ve ever met anyone who put aside their marriage vows.”

Buffy grinned at the shock in his voice. “Well, you’ll soon get used to that in this day and age. Ah, here we are, one of Sunnydale’s finest graveyards. Now, all we want is a couple of vamps to appear, and I can show you how I spend every evening of my life.”

“Someone has lit a bonfire over there,” William stated. “I feel that is not seemly in a cemetery.”

Buffy spun round, frowning and with the vampire following, headed towards the flames. The fire was burning fiercely, red, orange and gold, roaring noisily, sending sparks cascading upwards into the night sky.

“Should we put it out?” William asked, shadows dancing across his face from the leaping flames. “Or find who did it?”

“There’s no water round here,” Buffy replied absently. “And whoever it was is long gone. We’d better just watch it until it dies down.”

She gazed into the flames; there was something hypnotic about the smoke, the dancing colours, the cold –

“William! Is it just me? The fire – it isn’t hot!”

William nodded slowly, his eyes gleaming vampire gold in the reflected light. “Indeed, you are correct, Miss Buffy. I noticed that straight away, but thought because I am now a vampire, that perhaps I couldn’t feel heat. Or that it was just one more miracle in this time and place that I didn’t understand. But you are quite right, this fire – the sensation on my body is easy to recognise. It feels like ice!”

To be continued.




 
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