Wow, sorry about the long wait. My brother has been writing his own fanfiction so I had to wrestle him away from the computer and hog-tie him in the corner in order to finally get to type, so I hope you all appreciate this ;P
Also, for being so patient, I'm going to give you two chapters instead of one. I know, you're all thrilled, but one small warning; yes, this will be a Spuffy story, but Buffy will be with another character for the next few chapters. I'll try to keep the touchy feely to a minimum but I'm not promising anything. So please try to keep your lunch down and the flames to a minimum, there is a reason for his presence.
That being said, enjoy.

~Ghost Writer




Something on the Wind

“You helped them escape?” the maid, Tara, asked William later that night as he helped her to set out the supper dishes.

“I couldn’t, in good conscience, be responsible for one so young being turned over to the hangman, pirate or not.”

He decided not to tell his friend of the strange feeling that had practically forbade him to turn the pair over to Finn and his soldiers.

“I’d expect nothing less of you, William,” she said softly. “You’re a good man.”

“I wish my father could see that,” he replied.

Tara gave him a sympathetic smile.

“He’s different, Tara. Not how he used to be when I was a boy. Ever since mum died…” William trailed off and Tara came around to his side of the table and laid a gentle hand in his.

“Grief sometimes does strange things to people,” she said.

“Yes,” he agreed. “But it shouldn’t make you forget the living.”

Tara’s heart ached at the bitterness she heard in William’s voice. The years since his mother’s death had been hard on him, as his father had withdrawn into himself, creating an unbridgeable distance between father and son. But, then, William had still been happy, running the streets for hours with the other boys until the day Jesse died and Xander (as Alexander had called himself then) had turned against him. Since that day, William had preferred reading in his room to going out.

Although propriety was a fiercely enforced rule in the Giles household, Tara ruled in favor of comforting her friend and wrapped him in a hug. William couldn’t help but stiffen momentarily; quickly searching for signs of his father, before relaxing into the comfort the young woman offered him. For awhile they just held each other, enjoying the closeness and companionship they had shared since he had first arrived at the port from London, and were about to draw apart when Governor Giles walked into the room.

William and Tara leapt apart like they’d burned each other and Tara mumbled something about seeing if the cook had supper ready before practically running from the room. William remained silent, awaiting his fathers’ wrath, but only received an amused smile that matched the twinkle in the man’s eyes; in spite, or perhaps because, of the bottle of liquor in his hand. Alerted by the amber liquid, William studied his father. The older man’s wig and coat were both missing, his cravat hung loosely around his neck, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. William sighed internally; it was going to be one of those nights again.

“Bit round for my taste,” his father said, conversationally. “Be a decent tumble though.”

William stiffened, his jaw clenching.

“Miss Tara is a lady, father,” he said. “In every sense of the word.”

With that he turned on his heel and left the room, leaving Rupert alone and wondering when he had stopped knowing the man who was his son.




After asking Mrs. O’Connell how the supper was coming, and being shooed out of the kitchen in response, Tara stepped out into the garden to cool her flaming cheeks; a result of overhearing the man’s statement to William. It had never occurred to her that the governor would think that she and William were intimate. Even if she did fancy men, the two had been like siblings for too long to even consider a physical relationship. Her own mother had raised the young man and Tara had thought that he might die right along with the woman when the consumption had taken her from them both.

The young woman raised her face to the night sky, seeking out her mother’s favorite constellation.

“I miss you, mama,” she whispered.

A gentle wind swelled, as though in response to her words. It caressed her skin and brushed at her hair, bathing her in the faint scent of strawberries. Tara frowned, that couldn’t be right. It was too early in the season for strawberries; then the unmistakable tingle of magic zinged down her spine, causing her flesh to break out in goose bumps. The blonde didn’t need her mother’s Sight to know that something was coming. She only wished that she knew whether it was good or bad.

She backed toward the house, watching the trees begin to sway alarmingly as the magic wind warred with the natural breeze. Suddenly two hands settled on her shoulders and Tara squealed in surprise, whirling to face her attacker.

“Oh, William,” she said, relieved, a hand over her rapidly beating heart. “You s-startled me.”

He colored slightly.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“I k-know. Odd weather h-has me on edge.”

He nodded.

“Like the wind’s blowing two directions at once.”

She smiled. He didn’t know how right he was.

“Father’s imbibing himself,” William continued. “I’ve come to offer you my room for the night.”

Though the governor had never forced himself on any of the staff, he was known to get a bit frisky when he was in his cups. They both knew that a couple of the maids would stay the night in his rooms on those occasions, and sharing Williams rooms allowed all three of them to avoid any embarrassing moments. Tara nodded.

“Thank you, William.”

He smiled warmly.

“Mrs. O’Connell also said that supper is ready and Father will be dinning in his rooms tonight,” William said, then offered her his arm.

“Care to dine with me, Miss?”

Tara grinned and played along. It was an old game between them.

“I’d love to, Sir.”

Laughing, the two entered the house.




The Slayer sliced through the still water, the Sea Witch at her side, both aided by the magical wind conjured by the red head who stood at the very front of the second ship. Her arms were raised to the starlit sky, her eyes as black as the sea beneath her. Both ships were silent, their usually boisterous crews too aware of the severity of their mission to engage in their usual behavior; that and the fact that both captains had left all of the booze in Sunnydale.

Confidant of her friend’s abilities Captain Elizabeth ‘Buffy’ Summers once again turned her attention to the small spell orb in her hands and the face it held.

“Buffy,” Dawn’s voice filled the silence around the blonde. “I’m at New London Port with mom. I snuck on board and I know you’re gonna be really mad because mom was but they got her. The soldiers got mom and the crew and they’re going to hang them! Please, Buffy. Please, please hurry!”

A large hand appeared in her line of sight and plucked the orb from her hands.

“Watching this thing isn’t going to get us there any faster,” her first mate said.

“I know,” she replied. “But what if we’re too late? What if I can’t save them?”

She hated showing fear to anyone, but the thought of losing both her mother and her sister terrified her. Angelus pulled her close to his large body and stroked her hair before speaking.

“If we’re too late, we find the ones responsible and kill them.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that Buffy couldn’t help but smile. The vampire was great at inspiration but crap at comfort; she guessed the whole no-soul-having issue made empathy a little hard for him to grasp. Sighing softly, Buffy let her gaze wander over the blackness surrounding her, then she spotted lights. Removing herself from her lover’s embrace, she quickly strode to the rail and called over to the other ship. Normally the two ships didn’t travel so close together, but the magic filling the night kept them from colliding.

“Willow,” Buffy shouted. “Bring it down, we’re here.”

Buffy was one of the very few allowed to call the redheaded witch by her given name, all others referred to her as Red or Captain. She looked over at her friend and nodded the black fading from her eyes as she moved to the wheel deck. The conjured wind died down, remaining just strong enough to urge the two ships toward the port.

Angelus was the first to spot the hanging bodies. He had to give the humans points for the sheer gruesomeness of their warnings. Leaving dead pirates to rot for all to see certainly made a statement. Several of the nooses were empty, having contained either humans that had rotted into the sea or demons that were far too resilient for a mere hanging to destroy.

One body in particular caught the vampire’s eye and he knew the second Buffy spied it.

“Mommy?” she whispered. Her hands clutched the rail with inhuman strength, causing small cracks to appear in the wood, before her legs refused to hold her any longer and she collapsed onto the deck. All activity onboard the ship stopped as the men witnessed their captain’s grief and her mother’s lifeless body. Like Joyce’s own crew, these men and demons had considered her a friend.

Swiping at the tears that clouded her vision, the blonde scanned the swaying bodies for her sister and nearly passed out from relief when Angelus confirmed what her eyes told her.

“She’s not there.”

“Thank God,” she whispered. “Thank God.”

“Don’t thank him yet,” Angelus cautioned her. “We still don’t know where the brat’s got off to.”

“You’re right,” Buffy said, pulling herself to her feet.

She dried her eyes, trying to put her mother’s demise from her mind until after Dawn was safe and they were all far from this place. She climbed to the wheel deck and addressed the crew.

“Prepare to go ashore!”

A cheer went up from the deck as the crew readied themselves for a raid.

“You’re main goal is to find my sister. Everything else is secondary. Is that understood?”

Cries of ‘aye’ and ‘yes, captain’ rose as Buffy made her way to one of the longboats. She stopped as she spied the man best suited for the second task she had in mind.

“Jeffery,” she called.

The grey demon looked up from preparing one of the boats and made his way to her side.

“Yes, Captain?”

“I want you to gather some men and retrieve the bodies. I don’t want to leave them here.”

“Of course, Captain,” he replied.

That taken care of, Buffy swung herself over the rail then called back.

“Wesley!”

The ship’s doctor raised an arm from his place at the helm.

“You’re in charge until I return.”




Tara awoke to chaos. Screams and explosions sounded through the open windows and bright flashes of light sporadically bathed the room in multicolored bursts. In her haste to get to the window the young woman’s legs became tangled in the blankets and she soon found herself on the floor, nearly landing on top of William who had done the gentlemanly thing and slept beside the bed instead of in it.

“What the bloody hell!” he demanded, still half-asleep, as he searched for his spectacles on the bedside table.

Finally untangling herself, Tara ran to the window.

“Silence,” she whispered and everything fell silent as the spell formed an invisible bubble around her.

People were running the streets in a panic, not caring that they were in their bedclothes, as bright multicolored orbs darted around them, exploding into showers of sparkling dust upon colliding with whatever happened to be in their paths. It didn’t take Tara long to recognize the spell for what it was, a harmless distraction, albeit a somewhat amplified version of the spell she knew. Suddenly an arm wrapped around her middle, pulling her away from the window and turning her to face William. His lips were moving but no words were coming out.

“End,” she whispered, dropping her cocoon of silence. She covered her ears and shouted over the din.

“What?”

William rolled his eyes and grabbed her arm before pulling her toward the door.

“The port is under attack,” he shouted. “We need to get to the tunnels!”

The unnatural honeycomb of passages ran under the entire island, connecting almost every home and business. The governor had told the people that the soldiers had dug them to be utilized in case of an attack, like tonight, but Tara knew that they were much older. There were signs below, telling which tunnel lead where so that the citizenry wouldn’t become lost, and torches that were kept lit by the guard assigned to patrol the underground but still Tara balked. Quite frankly, those tunnels gave her the creeps, and she knew that William wouldn’t set foot in them.

“Either we both go o-or we find a-another way,” she said firmly.

Even if she could face the underground alone she wasn’t going to risk losing Will. Against normal humans he could hold his own, but not against a magic user; and the Mother only knew what had accompanied him.

‘Or her,’ Tara corrected silently. The magic on the air had a distinct feminine feel to it.

William frowned at her.

“I can’t,” he said, all the while telling himself that he was being a coward, but every time he thought of those dark passageways, all he could see was the raven-haired woman and her burning yellow eyes.

His bedroom door banged open, revealing his father, disheveled but alert, and clutching a pistol in one hand and his great-grandfather’s sword, still razor sharp, in the other.

“William!” he called over the din, which seemed to be getting worse with each passing moment, and tossed the gleaming heirloom towards his son who caught it easily.

“Get yourselves to the fort! Bloody pirates,” he muttered, turning and striding down the hall. William followed, pulling Tara behind him.

“You’d think they’d leave us alone, considering what happened to the last lot.”

“Or come for revenge,” William murmured, remembering the young woman he’d helped earlier. Had the pirate woman had a husband? Was her family causing this chaos? There was no doubt in William’s mind that the two were related in some way.

He paused when his father ducked through the doorway to the cellar where the entrance to their portion of the tunnel was located, then, cursing his cowardice, turned instead to the back door and pulled Tara with him into the night.


Buffy leaned against a barrel, keeping an eye out for soldiers and brave citizens as Willow sent orb after brightly colored orb into the town. She didn’t understand these people. They could kill her mother without batting an eye but a little light show had them in a panic.

Good.

They had destroyed her family without a second thought. In her mind they deserved a little fear, but for their sakes they had better pray that her sister was okay, because if Buffy discovered that anything had happened to Dawn, she just might forget her Slayer vows and lose her crew on this miserable town.

Behind the fuming Slayer, Angelus lounged in one of the beached longboats, bored and regretting his decision to stay behind. Even if there was no bloodshed to be had, being amongst the terrified humans would be a damn sight more exciting than just sitting there. Stifling a yawn, he stood and stretched his tall frame before silently making his way to Buffy. Before reaching her, however, a young woman appeared between two of the portside buildings. The fine linen of her nightgown told him that she was of the upper class, and she had a bright green orb on her heels, and Angelus paused to watch. The orb finally caught up to her, hitting her squarely in the back, and she fell, shrieking, as the exploded orb covered her in its dusty remains. The terrified woman rolled on the ground, flailing at her hair and clothing as though she were on fire. Angelus chuckled and Buffy shook her head at the display, absently batting away a smaller blue orb that was darting at her head. The harmless ball of light smacked into Angelus’ chest and exploded with a soft ‘poof’, coating the vampire in bright blue powder. He looked down at himself, disgusted, and growled softly at Willow. She smirked at him as he swiped at his clothes and hair, trying to rid himself of the clingy stuff.

“One of these days, witch,” he threatened.

The redhead only rolled her eyes at him, unconcerned, and resumed her distraction spell. Assured that he was fairly dust free, Angelus continued his walk to the Slayer, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. She leaned into him, tipping her head to the side and baring her neck, and the bite scar adorning it, to him. He obliged her, dipping his head and running his tongue over the slightly raised tissue, coaxing a small sound from between her half-parted lips. Angelus grinned, it wouldn’t be long now.