Chapter 6
Spike woke up sometime in the early evening and took a moment to take in the sleepy woman next to him. Elizabeth. His Elizabeth. Just when he thought that his life couldn’t get any stranger.
Elizabeth’s hair was still the same spun gold that had entranced him when he was younger and it lay spread out on the pillow around her. Her skin was pale, almost as pale as his own, as though she spent most of her time out of the sun, but other than that, she looked the same as she had the last time he had seen her nearly a hundred and thirty-two years before and he hadn’t recognized her; had forgotten the one woman in the world who had truly loved him.
Spike picked up her left hand and studied the diamond ring that rested on her finger. She still wore his mother’s ring and he wondered when she had gotten it back. He had wondered the same thought about the locket as well. Caretakers were not so scrupulous back in the day and they had removed her jewelry least it be stolen off her body. He still remembered holding the locket in his hands the day of her funeral until the single diamond stone in the center had cut into his hands.
Elizabeth let out a contented sigh and opened her eyes. “Hey,” she murmured.
“Morning, luv,” Spike answered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
She snuggled deeper into his embrace. “Let’s stay like this forever.”
“I wish we could, pet.”
“Why can’t we?” Elizabeth asked, running her fingers shyly over his bare chest.
Spike didn’t answer. There was nothing that he wanted more in the world than to stay in this moment for the rest of his existence, but it was ruined by the ringing of his cell phone.
“’Lo,” he said.
It was Faith. “Hey. I just wanted to check and see how things were going.”
“Things are fine,” Spike answered, tersely.
“Did you find the new Slayer?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you talk to her? Is she coming back with you? What’s her name?” Faith didn’t even pause for breath as she shot her questions out.
“Yes, I talked to her. Yes, she agreed to come to the Council with me and her name is…” Spike paused and turned to look at Elizabeth.
She had sat up and pulled the blankets tightly around her, staring blankly at the wall on the other side of the room. “Buffy,” she whispered. “Tell her my name is Buffy.”
“Buffy,” Spike answered.
“Buffy?” Faith asked. “What the hell kind of name is that?”
“What the hell kind of name is Faith?” Spike retorted.
“What’s wrong with you? Are you still upset about Angel and me? Please don’t be. The last thing that I want to do is hurt you.” Faith was whining into the phone.
“There is nothing wrong with me. To be honest, you and the soddin’ poof are the bloody last things on my mind at the moment,” Spike told her.
“Oh…Are-When are you coming back?”
“Soon…and remember our deal, after this, you lot stay out of my life.” Spike clicked the phone off without saying good-bye. He let out a grunt of frustration and turned to pull Buffy back into his arms, but she shied away.
“You’re-you’re going to leave me with the Council? Leave me with your Slayer?” She asked softly.
“Wot? No! Why would you think that, luv?”
“You told her that you wanted her ‘lot’ to stay out of your life after you dropped me off.”
“I made a promise to bring you back and I told them to never bother me again after I did, that’s true, but when I’ll leave, ‘m takin’ you with me,” Spike said.
“Promise me,” Elizabeth said.
Spike slid across the bed and pulled her back against him. “I promise…’ll even let you pick the place where we live. Anywhere you want to go, you tell me.”
Elizabeth stared into his face and smiled. “I don’t care where we live as long as you’re with me. We can live in a box by the river and I’ll be happy.”
Spike chuckled. “Don’t think a box would hold up to nicely if it happened to rain on us. Now, pack yer bags. The sooner we go to England, the sooner we can be on our way.”
Elizabeth grinned and hopped out of bed. She was wearing nothing but his black t-shirt. “Let me just go take a shower.”
“Fine, you shower and I’ll pack your bags,” Spike said.
“’kay.” Elizabeth pulled the trunk away from the foot of the bed and opened it.
Spike swallowed hard when he recognized the trunk. It was her hope chest.
If Elizabeth noticed his surprise, she didn’t say anything. “Clothes go on the top level and weapons on the next. Everything is in the closet.” She turned and practically skipped into the bathroom.
Spike climbed out the bed slowly and made his way to the trunk. He ran his fingers over the sides and the top of it remembering how it had once been filled with items for them to start their new life together. The life that they had been denied. He cursed himself when he felt the tears welling up in his eyes. This was ridiculous. He had cried more in the past twelve hours than…
He strode over to the closet and pulled the doors open. Elizabeth had filled the small closet with clothes. Skirts in plaid and black, shirts in blacks, shoes in black. Spike was picking up on a familiar pattern that made him grin. They always had thought so much alike. He grabbed a handful of clothes and dumped them on the bed before opening her dresser drawers and pulling out her intimates. Feeling no shame, Spike pressed the handful of her panties to his face, inhaling her scent.
Finally, Spike made his way back to the closet to pack her weapons. As he was placing the various swords, daggers, and axes in the trunk, he noticed an off colored corner of the inside lining. Almost like someone had re-lined the trunk and not been able to find the exact match in color. He set the weapons on the floor and reached out to touch the discoloration. The bottom of the trunk popped open when he brushed the corner with his finger. A false bottom.
Spike cocked his head to one side and heard Buffy still in the shower. Cautiously, he pulled the false bottom of the trunk out and gasped at what he saw. The hidden level of the trunk contained a myriad of items from a life long gone. Slowly, Spike began to examine the artifacts. First out the box was a medium sized square of white lace. It was not the right size for a handkerchief, and he briefly wondered what it was. Next was a small portrait of a man and woman holding a baby, Elizabeth with her parents. It was her only picture of them and he had seen it many times. The following portrait rekindled the thoughts he had about the ring and the necklace. Their engagement portrait had been hidden away with the ring and the locket in the locked drawer in his bedroom. She must have broken into his house and retrieved the items…had that been after his rebirth into vampirism?
A cracked pair of spectacles came out next and Spike studied them a moment before putting on his face. They blurred his vision and he removed them. He hadn’t worn them since his turning anyhow. In fact, they hadn’t been on his face when he had awoken in his coffin. Elizabeth hadn’t been lying about seeing him be turned. She must have taken the spectacles off his dead body. Spike wondered if she was the one who had alerted the authorities about him.
There were a couple of books laying in the trunk; a book of fairy tales that had been the last gift her mother had given her and a book of poetry that he had given her on her seventeenth birthday. Several journals caught his eye and he hesitated only long enough to confirm that the water in the shower was still running before he pulled them out and flipped through them.
6 July 1872
Today is the happiest day of my life! My William has asked for my hand in marriage and Uncle Ethan said yes. I was so afraid that he would not allow me to marry. The Council forbade it, but I cried and begged so much that Uncle Ethan relented. I know that he is risking great danger by going against the wishes of the Council, but I do not care. Is that selfish of me? I do not think so.
I have wanted to be Mrs. William Pratt for as long as I can remember. I think it might have been since the moment I saw him. I know that it is horrible of me to agree to marry him knowing that I will make him a widow within a short time of our marriage, but I think that I deserve some amount of happiness. Every night I go out and risk my life so that the world may rest safely. I did not choose this Calling, it chose me. I do not think the Council understands that the reason I have lived as long as I have is because I go out thinking of William every night. It is better to think of saving the one you love as opposed to the thousands of faceless masses. I think, “If I kill this vampire, than it cannot harm William or Mrs. Pratt.” Every missed slay becomes a danger to them that must be stopped.
I think the real reason the Council does not wish Slayers to marry is that they fear what would happen if we became with child. I long for a child of my own; half of me and half of William, but I know that the reality is that I will probably be dead before such an event could happen.
This secret life is tearing me in two. Some days I want to sit and cry at the injustice of it. I wish that I could tell William about the monsters in the dark, warn him. I know that I cannot. A small part of me says that I am horribly selfish to have accepted his hand and that I should tell him of my Calling and give him the choice of still being with me knowing that every night I face a walking death sentence, but I am so afraid that he would leave me. I would die faster without him, I know. I am a wretched girl, but I love him.
Spike was a mess of emotions as he read and re-read the journal entry. Part of him was angry at her casual thoughts of his feelings, like he wouldn’t love her if he knew that she was a Slayer. Okay, maybe human him would have been beyond scared, but he still would have loved her, right? Another part of him was furious about how casually she talked about making him a widow. At least you would have been a husband. Still a third part, his inner William, rejoiced at her declarations of love.
With a snarl, he flipped to the last entry in the journal. It was dated the day of her eighteenth birthday.
19 January 1873
Something is wrong with me, but I do not know what it is. I am losing my Slayer powers. Few Slayers make it to their eighteenth birthday, this I know, but I have. If this were normal, than I am sure that Uncle Ethan would have told me. I am afraid to mention it to him. I wish I could tell William. I am tired of this life of lies. I want to tell him the truth and have him take me in his arms and tell me that everything will be alright. Worse than that, I want to believe that everything will be alright. It will not be. I know this…I know this and I am afraid.
“Read anything interesting?” Elizabeth asked coldly.
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