The Slayer
& The Poet
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Disclaimer: The characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer belong
to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Same goes for any characters from Angel that
should appear. Any other characters are mine and may be used for other fanfic
(Just note that they’re mine if you use them.)
Content rating note: This fic is rated PG-13.
Continuity note: Follows Stanza the
1st. This story takes place in an AU season 6, in which Buffy
didn’t die at the end of season five. This is only important to know for Buffy
and the girls’ state of mind since this is set in 1880. Spoilers for “Fool for
Love” and a little “Lies My Parents Told Me.”
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1
Beacon Park was bustling that
Saturday afternoon. It wasn’t the largest park in London, but it was of fairly
good size. It made William nervous that he would see someone he knew. Besides
Miss Buffy, of course, whom he was looking for.
He looked through the crowd
trying to first see if there was anyone from his circle that he would need to
avoid. If he saw Charles or Sally, he would have to go and write a letter of
apology to Miss Buffy for not meeting her.
So far, so good. He hadn’t
seen anyone familiar.
Then he spotted her, just
where she said he would be, in the little clearing surrounded by blossoming
trees. Her back was turned and two ladies were sitting next to her on the
bench. A blonde and a redhead; they wore their hair down like Buffy’s. But,
unlike Miss Buffy, their hair was quite straight with very little wave. They
were all wearing a similar style of dress, as well. Kind of like medieval
princess gowns, with lacing up the bodice, and no bustle in the skirt. How
utterly unique, William thought. Like three princesses in a fairy tale.
Willow was the first to spot
him. Buffy had described him pretty well and he didn’t look like many of the
other guys they saw. Most men around London, especially the upper class, seemed
to be wearing dark colors and sporting various styles of mustaches. He was
wearing light tweed and was clean-shaven. She suspected he wasn’t the height of
fashion. But neither were they.
Tara looked in the direction
her girlfriend was, and spotted him, as well. He was rather sweet looking, she
thought.
“B- Buffy, is that him?”
Tara asked as she motioned in William’s direction near the opening to the
clearing. His eyes were cast aside, briefly checking for unwelcome familiar
faces.
Buffy turned around and
smiled. “Yes, that’s him!”
“Don’t shout out,” Tara
cautioned softly. “Just let him notice us.”
Buffy sighed but kept her
smile, resigned to the fact that her style would be cramped by stuffy Victorian
etiquette.
When William turned his
attention back to the ladies, they were all smiling in his direction. He
blushed as he realized that they had observed him there already while his head
was turned. William managed a small, slightly nervous, smile and made his way
into the little clearing. Once inside, he noticed that they were the only ones
in it, and that it was relatively concealed from view by the thick ring of
trees circling its perimeter.
Upon reaching the bench, he
bowed and said, “P- Pleased to meet you again, Miss Buffy. Thank you for your
most kind invitation.”
This was Buffy’s cue to
introduce Willow and Tara and invite him to sit down with them. But instead she
popped up from the bench and said, “William! I’m so glad you made it!”
Willow and Tara mentally
cringed. Buffy, have you forgotten your manners already?! Tara sent
telepathically.
Damn it! Buffy thought. She gritted
her teeth and tried to repair any damage.
“Oh, please pardon my
rudeness, William! These are my friends that I told you about. Willow Rosenberg
and Tara Maclay.”
Willow and Tara stood up,
smiled and bowed slightly saying, “Pleased to meet you.”
William bowed again and
returned the greeting. “William Brighton. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Please do sit down with us,
William.” Buffy said.
William smiled and sat on
the bench next to Buffy. “My- My mother sends her thanks- for saving me that
night,” he said to her, his eyes flicking down to the ground as he finished.
“Oh, how sweet! You’ll have
to send her my regards,” Buffy replied.
And then Buffy asked, “So,
how are you?”
William’s face fell a little
but he managed a polite “fine,” even though he had not been fine at all.
Willow’s heart went out to
him and suddenly she found herself saying, “Buffy told us all about what
happened to you, and I think it’s just horrible, William! Those people had no
right to treat you that way!”
And then Willow’s eyes
widened as she noticed the flush of embarrassment that spread over William’s
face. “Oh, no! I did it! I breached!” She wasn’t supposed to have brought up
such a sensitive subject when they’d just met and she was fairly certain she
shouldn’t have let on so soon that Buffy had told them of his troubles.
“Ah ha. See, it’s
not so easy in real conversation now is it?” Buffy said. “And why don’t you
just give him a nice paper cut and pour lemon juice on it, while you’re at it,
by the way.”
Tara shook her head. All
their hard work down the drain.
“Oh, no! I didn’t mean to
say anything upsetting, William! And we totally understand what it’s like to
have something like that happen. We’ve all been social rejects at one time or
another,” Willow said, verbally flailing.
“Oh, my God! You’re worse
than I am! You are so the pot calling the kettle black!” Buffy
exclaimed.
William looked flushed and
confused. He was beyond knowing how to respond at this point, although he didn’t
think they meant him any harm.
Stop it, both of you. Can’t
you see how uncomfortable you’re making William? Tara sent as she gave
William an apologetic look.
“I know~ I’m sorry~ I’m just
a total spaz~” Willow exclaimed.
And then she turned to William.
“I’m sorry, William~! I haven’t met anybody new in months and I’m not always
that good at meeting new people to begin with and I sometimes get flustered and
say the wrong thing, but I don’t mean to get flustered and say the wrong thing
and now I’m making you horribly uncomfortable and I’m making me uncomfortable
and now I’m rambling. Somebody stop me.”
Then Willow gasped again.
“Oh no, and I’m calling you William and I’m not supposed to call you William
yet ‘cause we just met!”
Then Willow turned to Buffy,
“I can’t believe it! I read and studied all those etiquette books and now when
it comes time to use that information, what do I do- I choke! I never choke!”
Willow was almost on the verge of hyperventilating. High School speech class
was flashing before her eyes.
William’s heart went out to
the redheaded girl. She was obviously trying her best.
“It- it’s all right, Miss
Rosenberg. I- I’m not all that good at meeting new people either. I never know
what to say,” William said.
“Oh, you’re right, he is
very sweet, Buffy,” said Willow, forgetting her panic.
William blushed furiously.
Tara sighed. If only Buffy
and Willow had remained calm.
“I’m sorry, William. We’re
just a bunch of wacky American girls who’ve been living on the wild frontier for
too long. Our social skills have atrophied. We have no sense. We’re senseless,”
Buffy said, giving up.
“Do, please, speak for
yourself,” Tara said.
“Okay, Tara has
sense… And sensibility,” Buffy agreed with a quip, hoping to lighten the
mood.
William forgot his embarrassment and chuckled.
“And do you have pride and
prejudice, Miss Buffy?” William joked in return.
The three girls laughed at
William’s rejoinder, relieved and more than pleasantly surprised by it.
“William, I think you are a
kindred spirit,” Buffy declared. “We must all call each other by our first
names now. Kindred spirits use first names. Right ladies?”
“Right,” Willow agreed.
“If that’s okay with
William,” Tara said.
William nodded his head and said, “Yes.” He was smiling so brightly now, that it lit up his whole face.
It gave Buffy a warm feeling to see him smiling like that. William’s smile was so genuine and innocent. So unlike Spike, who had rarely smiled that way. His smiles had almost always been tinged with slyness or innuendo. There was none of that swagger with William.
Above the little clearing the sun came out, spilling through the trees and lighting up the natural golden highlights in William’s hair. Buffy wanted to reach out and touch the curly locks, to see if they felt as soft as they looked. But that would definitely come off as weird, so she kept her hands to herself.
William was beyond caring
about propriety now. Never mind what society might think. He liked them. As
strange as the three girls were, he couldn’t help but feel that he was indeed
with like-minded people. That they were like him in some way he couldn’t yet
place his finger on. He felt that he was even more in tune with them
than he had been with the few friends he had managed to make at college.
And he was absolutely taken
with the notion of kindred spirits. It had a distinct air of poetry to it. He
repeated the phrase in his head, committing it to memory. He would have to make
sure to use it in a poem sometime.
William’s mind then wandered
to thoughts of Miss Buffy. So beautiful. Glowing and glistening in the
sunlight. Effulgent~.
“So, you aren’t going to
call the etiquette police on us then, William?” Buffy asked, giving him a
knowing smile, and startling him from his admiration.
William blinked. “N- no,
it’s rather refreshing, in a way. Your, um, your vigor for life is quite
contagious. And it- it’s not as if you’re really rude, per se. Just…a
bit unorthodox. Except for Miss Tara who has been quite normal.”
The girls laughed.
“So, you’re saying that
Willow and I are weird? Is that what you’re saying, William?” Buffy asked, with
mock indignity.
“Oh, no, no!” William
exclaimed, flustered and blushing, not having gotten the joke. “I- I just
meant- I mean that- I- I didn’t-”
Buffy laughed gaily. “Don’t
worry, William. I’m just teasing you.”
“Oh,” William said, still
blushing and feeling a little stunned.
“I must say we’re very lucky
that William is so understanding and open-minded. I doubt anybody else in
London would be so forgiving of so very many social blunders,” Tara said. “And
we should also all remember that William is special, and that if we meet any of
his friends or his mother or anyone else, we must behave properly. We
don’t want to repay his kindness with embarrassment, now do we?”
“No~…” Buffy and Willow
agreed, casting their eyes down to the ground.
Who knew Tara was so good
with the guilt, Buffy thought.
William was getting that
butterfluttery feeling in his stomach again. Miss Tara had called him special.
It could have only sounded better coming from Miss Buffy.
Miss Buffy… He’d never met a girl like
her, who was so clever and so bold. So beautiful. So full of life. He
wanted to pull out a pen and paper and write a poem about her on the spot. He
wanted to compare her to spring, or summer. Summer would be perfect, he
thought. Her last name is Summers, after all. It’s like fate knew
that she would be as beautiful and golden as a summer’s day. Oh, I will have to
write that down. But he couldn’t now. He would tuck it away in his memory
and do it later.
Miss Willow and Tara are
wonderful too, of course, he thought.
He hadn’t known any of them
long, but he could tell. He could feel it. He was glad he had come
today. He felt wanted.
“Thank you…. Thank you, Miss
Buffy, for inviting me,” William said softly, as he looked into her face with
gratitude.
Buffy returned his warm look
and said, “You’re welcome. Thank you for coming.”
Willow and Tara exchanged a knowing
glance. They could practically see the sparks flying between their friend and
sweet William. They’d been seeing the sparks fly all afternoon, in fact.
I cannot believe that this
sweet man would have become Spike, Willow sent to Tara. The same Spike that once
threatened to shove a broken bottle through my face if I didn’t do a love
spell. It totally blows my mind.
Buffy sighed with relief.
“William, I’m so glad I can be myself around you, without you having to run
screaming into the mid-afternoon. If I had been required to keep up the ‘little
miss Jane Eyre’ act, it would have seriously dampened my spirits.”
William giggled in response,
looking so cute as he did so that Buffy felt a slight flush creep into her
cheeks.
“Does this mean I’m off the
hook too?” Willow asked.
“Yes, Miss Willow. You don’t
have to try so hard with me. Unlike my fellows, I believe there are much
more important things than holding people to such stringent rules that inhibit
the spirit,” William proclaimed. “I value a good mind and heart above all
else.”
“Wow, that’s a unique
viewpoint for someone of this era! You’re kind of a rebel,” said Willow.
“He’s a rebel poet without a
cause!” Buffy added.
“I have a cause,” William
corrected. “I believe in focusing my efforts on things of beauty.”
“Like poetry, right?” Buffy
asked.
William nodded his head yes.
“Speaking of poetry, and at
the risk of eating another foot, I wondered if you might recite the poem from
the party. The one you met Buffy after. If you remember it, that is,” Willow
inquired.
William balked. “Um- er-
yes- I remember it- but-”
“Willow’s big with the
academics. She loves that kind of thing,” Buffy explained.
“I’d love to critique it.
And we all love poetry, don’t we?” Willow said.
“Yes, but I think we need to
give William some more time to get to know us first. Poetry can be very
personal,” Tara replied.
William sighed with relief.
“So, William, are you hungry?” Buffy asked, changing the subject.
“Oh, um, I’m a little
peckish perhaps, but not so much that I couldn’t stay and talk awhile longer
with you ladies,” William replied, hoping he hadn’t inadvertently sent any
signal that he wanted to leave them.
Buffy gave him a little
melodic laugh and said, “No, no, it’s not that. We’ve packed a picnic and we
wanted to invite you to join us. Willow and Tara made enough. Would you like to
join us William?”
“Oh, yes. It would be my
pleasure,” William replied, his face lighting up once more.
2
The girls unfurled the great
picnic blanket in the middle of the clearing and arranged the food in the
center. They had brought strawberries, ham, bread, cheese and pie, all in
lovely bowls or other containers conjured by Willow. To drink, they had iced
tea kept cold in a steel thermos also conjured by the talented witch.
After they unpacked the
picnic, they motioned for William to sit down and eat. Buffy played hostess and
asked everyone in turn what he or she wanted on his or her plate. All were sure
to watch their manners while eating. Eating with one’s mouth closed and other
staples of proper table manners seemed to them a very reasonable rule of
etiquette to follow.
William felt a sense of
nostalgia, as he hadn’t been on a picnic since he was a small child. It had
been a simple affair like this one, with just his mother and father in a field
on their estate. He remembered running his hand through the cool green grass
while he had waited for the food to be unpacked and served. Then, after they
had all eaten their fill, Father would read a favorite poem or passage from a
book. Tennyson had been Father’s favorite poet and he read from his works most
often. Father would stand and read as if on stage, while he and Mother sat
enraptured. William smiled with the memory.
Soon, all the other food was
finished and Tara asked, “Who has room for pie?”
“I do!” sang Willow and
Buffy as they held their plates out to Tara.
“All right, one at a time.
How about you William?”
“Yes, please,” he answered.
After tasting the pie, William
declared it to be most delicious, pleasing Tara immensely. She had gone through
all the trouble of making it from scratch, after all.
“I wish I could bake pies,”
Buffy said, a little jealous of the attention Tara was receiving, more than the
skill of cooking.
“Don’t worry, Buffy. You’ll
get the hang of it someday,” Tara said.
“Probably,” Willow added,
remembering that the last time Buffy had tried to cook something it had burst
into massive flames.
“Hey!” said Buffy,
indignantly.
William struggled not to
giggle, but was unsuccessful. He put his hand in front of his mouth, trying to
hide it at the very least.
“I hear you giggling over
there, William. But that’s okay~. Go ahead and laugh,” Buffy said with
mock drama. And then she gave him a sly smile to let him know she was only
teasing and wasn’t really hurt.
William stifled himself
nonetheless and gave her an apologetic look.
When the pie was gone and
the picnic officially over, the girls began to pack it up. As they did, Willow
felt compelled to ask another question.
“So, William, did your
parents like poetry, by any chance?”
“Yes. My father especially.
Why do you ask?”
“Well, your name is William
and there are a lot of poets named William so I thought maybe you might be named
after one.”
“Oh, that’s true. I suppose
there are quite a few Williams in poetry. I don’t know if I was named after one
though. I never really thought about it before,” William said, smiling and
looking up in thought.
“Are there really lots of
Williams in poetry?” Buffy asked Willow.
“Oh, yes. There’s William
Wordsworth and William Shakespeare and William Blake and William Cowper-”
“-And, okay, I get it,”
Buffy interrupted before the list could go on any longer.
“Now I think I shall have to
ask Mother about it when I get home. Although, I would have thought she’d have
mentioned something like that to me before now,” William said.
“So, what does your mom
think of your poetry?” Buffy asked, boldly venturing into personal territory.
“Oh, Mother is often the
first person I read them to. She always praises them, but I suspect she is just
being kind,” William replied.
“Now I really want to
hear your poetry, William. I’m just burning with curiosity!” said Willow.
“Don’t pressure him. It’s
not polite. He’ll read it to us if and when he’s ready,” Tara said.
“I’m pretty curious too,”
Buffy said.
“And I’m not pressuring! I’m
just saying,” Willow said.
“It’s really alright. I’m
flattered that you are all so interested. Although it’s really not very good,”
William said, trying to calm the rising argument.
All three girls gave him a
sympathetic look.
With all the picnic supplies
packed away, the girls and William stood up.
“Well, I really should be
going now,” said William.
“Oh! It’s not because of anything
I’ve said, is it?” Willow asked. “I really didn’t mean to pressure you.
Honest!”
“No, no,” William said,
shaking his head. “It’s just getting late, that’s all. I shouldn’t take up your
whole day,” he said, smiling kindly.
“Will you meet with us again
tomorrow?” Buffy asked.
“T-tomorrow?” William asked
getting that excited fluttery feeling in his stomach again. So soon she
wants to meet with me! Oh, dare I even think-
“Or some other day, if
tomorrow’s no good…” said Buffy, unconsciously giving him an innocent
flirtatious look.
“Oh, n-no, I would love to
meet with you t-tomorrow,” William said, surprised he was able to make his lips
move at all now that the fluttery feeling was accompanied by a pounding in his
chest.
Buffy brightened and asked, “Same
time, same place?”
“Y-yes, that would be fine,”
William said, trying to keep from smiling like an idiot.
“All right then, we’ll see
you tomorrow,” said Buffy, while Willow voiced a soft “yay!” to Tara in the background.
“Yes,” said William. Then he
bowed and said, “Ladies, a pleasure.”
The girls smiled and bowed
in return.
William then backed away a
few steps before turning to leave the clearing. Once he had made it outside and
down a ways bit, he stopped and sighed with his hand to his chest. Oh,
Cupid’s arrow has struck my heart again! I am undone! William could no
longer deny in any part his budding affection for Miss Buffy, nor the hope that
she may feel the same way.
Then, to his horror, he spied
the dreaded Sally Pritchett out of the corner of his eye. William dashed behind
a tree, pressing his back to its trunk and thanking the Lord that he was a thin
man. Sally walked on by the tree without seeing him and turned down the path.
William let out a shuddery
sigh and beat a hasty retreat home.
3
“So, what do you think?”
Buffy said after William had left.
“I think he likes you,” said
Willow, grinning widely.
“No~ I mean what did you
think of him?” Buffy said, exasperated and flushed.
“I think he’s very sweet. And surprisingly liberal for his times and class,” Tara replied.
“I can’t believe he’s Spike!”
Willow exclaimed.
“I know! What did I
tell you?” said Buffy.
Tara then bent down and
gathered up the picnic basket. “Shall we hail a carriage?” Tara asked as they
walked out of the clearing in the opposite direction of William.
“Sure,” the other girls
replied.
“Of course I like him. I wouldn’t
have asked him to meet us if I didn’t,” Buffy replied ignoring the connotation
of Willow’s statement.
“You know that’s not what I
mean,” Willow said giving Buffy a look. “I think you like-him like him.”
“Oh, please!” Buffy said,
rolling her eyes and doing her best to look incredulous.
“Oh please, yourself!”
Willow said.
They were at the edge of the
park when Tara hailed a carriage. After they got in, Tara said, “You know it’s
okay to like him, if you do. It’s not like you have to worry about what happens
when we find away to get back to our time. Because we aren’t going to. You know
that don’t you?”
“I know,” Buffy said. “And
please, Willow, don’t go into all that time travel theory with the string and
the alternate universes and all that stuff. It hurts my brain.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Willow
said, feeling a twinge of dejection, before brushing it away. “Let’s not think
about that anyway. Let’s focus on the present, not the past- or future- or
whatever. Let’s Carpe some Diem!”
Buffy smiled at her best
friend, grateful once more to have her there. And Tara too.
“And you do like him. I saw the sparks. There was major
sparkage,” Willow said.
Buffy sighed, rolled her
eyes once more, and smiled a little. “You’re just not going to let that go, are
you?”
4
On the carriage ride home,
William sat in his seat scribbling away on the piece of parchment he’d brought
out from his jacket. He hadn’t been able to write a poem since the night of the
party. Although he had written a great deal in his journal, he had lost his
spirit for poetry. Now that he had a new focus for his art, he wrote with
renewed vigor.
He looked over his poem,
very pleased with it. Never had the words flown so easily from his pen. He
hadn’t had to scratch out one single word.
When the carriage arrived
home, he paid his fare and then flew up the steps to his house. He walked
briskly to the sitting room, almost jogging, and found his mum there doing
needlepoint as usual.
Anne looked up immediately.
She had heard him clomping through halls of the house and thought to comment on
it, but after she saw the bright expression on William’s face she decided to
let it go.
“So, tell me. How did it
go?” Anne asked when he stood in front of her.
“Oh, just wonderful, Mother!
Miss Buffy and her friends were most agreeable,” William exclaimed.
“Oh, how lovely~! I knew
it would work out fine,” Anne said sitting down her needlepoint.
“Yes, most fine, indeed! It was amazing~! They were nice,
and clever, and unique and interesting, and one of them, Miss Willow, is into
academics and wishes to critique my poetry! Although… I don’t think I’m going
to share it just yet. And, Miss Tara was very kind and polite. The very picture
of a lady. And Miss Buffy has a wonderful sense of humor unlike any I’ve ever
seen! And she- they- all seem to think as I do about things. And they want to
meet me tomorrow! Again! Already!” William finished, out of breath.
Anne was tempted to tell her
son to calm down, but she was just so relieved to see him finally lifted out of
the depression he’d been in over the last few weeks, so she kept her peace.
“Oh, I thanked Miss Buffy
for you and she sends her regards,” William said almost forgetting to convey
the message.
Anne nodded her head and
smiled. “You’ll have to invite them over sometime, William.”
“Oh, I’m sure I will,”
William said and in his mind added, at some point. Miss Buffy and Miss
Willow would have to improve their etiquette before he could introduce
them to his mother. He didn’t want them to make a bad impression.
“I’m going to go up and write
in my journal now, but I have a new poem I wrote on the way home and I can read
it to you first. If you want to hear it,” William added.
“I would love to hear
it, darling. It’s been ages now since I’ve heard one of your poems,” Anne said,
happy that he was writing them again. A sure sign that he was definitely out of
depression.
William read the poem still
clutched in his hands and then waited for her response.
“Oh, William, that was a magnificent poem! Lovely~,” Anne said clasping her hands together.
As usual it wasn’t really, but the sentiment behind it was good and she was thrilled to have him returning to himself. She had been worried that he might come to take his own life if he went on in his despair much longer. She’d even hidden the morphine, afraid the urge would take him one night and she’d find him dead in the morning. Thank goodness, that’s over with!
After William had given his
usual modest reply, Anne asked, “And whom might this new poem be about?” Anne
knew that there was always some girl at the root of her son’s poetic
inspiration. She just wondered which one of the three girls it was, although
she did have a main suspect.
“I wouldn’t presume…”
William began as he cast his eyes aside.
“Pifft! Nonsense! Tell me,”
Anne insisted.
William continued to cast
his eyes aside and said nothing.
“Are you going to make me
guess?” Anne asked, giving him a stern look.
“M- Miss Buffy…” William
answered softly.
“I thought that might be the
one,” Anne said, pleased with this information and eager to meet the girl who
had taken her son’s fancy. “Now go along and write in your journal if you wish.
I’ll press you no more for today.”
“Thank you, mum!” he said,
giving Anne a quick peck on the top of her head. Then he rushed out of the room
in the same manner he had rushed in.
Anne shook her head and
smiled as she heard his feet falling loud and fast on the stairs.
5
William raced to his desk
and pulled his most current journal out of the bottom drawer. He sat down and began
to write feverishly of the day’s events. To think, just a few days ago he was
in such despair that the thought of suicide crossed his mind. And now life was
good again!
Now don’t get too excited,
William. There’s no guarantee that she fancies you. You’ve made this mistake
before, cautioned
the doubting voice in his head.
Yes, I know. I’ll be
cautious this time. I know she fancies me as a friend at least, but I’ll be
cautious just the same. But not in his poetry. There he would throw caution to the wind as he
had done so many times before, pouring his heart and soul onto the paper.
William wrote well into the
evening, putting down the day’s events, as well as his excitement for
tomorrow’s. He finished by making a note to himself to ask his mother if he was
named after any famous poets.
After closing his journal,
William took off his spectacles and rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose.
He sighed, got up and began preparing for bed, daydreaming about what tomorrow
might bring.
--- To Be Continued . . .
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