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Chapter 28

Buffy sat in the middle of the bed in the master bedroom she shared with Spike. It was late – very late. She’d stared unseeing for several hours as the candles littered about the room slowly burned down to nothing, their soft glow and the roar of the fire the only light in the spacious room.

Spike had told her earlier that he was going to his club and would be back later. Had stormed into the room with barely concealed anger tightly coiled throughout his body. On the one hand, she had been grateful to have the room to herself. Silently telling herself that she was thankful he’d left her to her own devices, even if it were only for a little while. Even if it was a lie she told herself. Honestly, she didn’t know what to think of her situation. Didn’t know what to feel. The revelations shared by Doyle, the Powers’ messenger, had left her confused and floundering. His easygoing manner with Spike unnerving her. His lack of condemnation over her arrangement with the blond vampire confounding her. She just didn’t know what to think anymore.

They’d been back from the vampire gathering for a week now. One long, torturous week spent twiddling her fingers in Spike’s study during the daylight hours while he slept upstairs, escaping his embrace as soon as she woke – guilt flooding every pore of her being as she relived the previous night’s debauchery while ensconced in her safe haven. The way he’d coax her to him with a look, a whispered command. Bringing her body untold pleasure once she capitulated, screaming his name and begging for him to take her.

She would glance at the volumes of books laid out about the room – a bittersweet reminder of home…and the school’s library. She told herself she stayed here while he slept to feel closer to home. Closer to her friends and watcher. Again it was a lie. Somewhere deep inside, she came here to be close to him. Like an invisible link she was drawn to him, and at least here she could be near his essence without appearing like she needed him.

Her fingers played with the ring on her left ring finger, watching the ruby caught the waning light of the candle, making the stone appear to burst into flames upon her hand. Again her mind drifted back, her memories more comforting than the emotion plaguing her being.

She’d stayed locked in her room for the remainder of the gathering, and Spike had not objected. Although, the other vampires couldn’t tell she was the Slayer, he’d not wanted her to socialize with anyone without him being present. Didn’t want her to inadvertently slip and say something inappropriate now that the veil of her amnesia was gone. He’d told her that he’d let the others know that she’d come down with some slight affliction that had left her feeling under the weather. And, she thought he’d taken perverse delight in letting her know her “friends” were asking after her, were hoping that she was feeling better soon and able to join in the festivities.

She hadn’t, and after the week came to a close, she’d managed to escape into their coach without coming into contact with anyone else.

Her head lifted from her silent musings at a noise she thought she might have heard. But it was nothing. Well, it may have been something. But, it wasn’t him. It wasn’t Spike. She was still alone. Sitting in the middle of the bed, nothing more than her thoughts for company.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy was still alone an hour later when she suddenly jumped out of bed. She needed to talk to someone and immediately visions of the dark-haired vampiress sprung to mind. Agitation getting the best of her, she paused only long enough to grab a robe and drape it over her gossamer gown before exiting her room and racing down the steps. Her bare feet barely made a sound as she hurried across the bare floor, flung open the door, and ran out into the night. She didn’t stop to think about how she was going to find her destination, her mind solely on reaching the one person that could help her deal with what she was going through. In her frantic state of mind, she didn’t realize that times were different, and a woman alone couldn’t just race through the night and ask someone for directions, especially garbed like she was.

The supple material of her gown and robe hugged her lithe frame as she ran down the block; her long, dark hair fluttering behind her as the slight breeze grabbed the silken tresses and whipped them about her head. To the two men lurking in the shadows, she was a ripe plum just waiting to be plucked. They slipped from their hiding place and set out after the girl.

A block later, the Slayer stopped. Her head moved from side to side in an attempt to recognize something familiar. Some small scrap of memory that told her she was on the right track. Anything that would say she was getting close to her destination. So intent was she on her objective, she failed to hear the men close in on her.

The blow to the back of her head sent her to her knees. Before she had a chance to recover, she felt her body being dragged behind some bushes. Their stench nearly overwhelmed her, enervating her muscles into pushing them off of her.

She was out of shape. The last six weeks she’d not lifted the first finger in self-defense, and her body was slow to react. Her coordination off as she tried to connect her fist to her assailants’ face.

The angry growls came as a shock, and Buffy thought fleetingly that she was going to meet her demise tonight, and she laughed ironically that she’d not be around to see her “destiny” fulfilled. When the slimy hands of her attackers were suddenly ripped from her body, she glanced up and stared in confusion as two vampires quickly drained the lives of the two men that had dared touch her while a third reached down to assist her to her feet. She stared at the demon’s outstretched hand, perplexed. Why weren’t they killing her?

“Lady Thornton…let me help you. It’s not safe for you to be out here alone. Where is your husband?”

“Renee,” she babbled, hysteria welling up inside her until her body began to shake with residual adrenaline. “Ren…Mar-Marchioness…Lady…Lady Atherton. Need…need to see…to see her.”

Viscount Sotheby crouched down beside Lord Thornton’s wife, his arm slipping behind her back to assist her to her feet.

“Alric, run ahead and make sure the Marchioness is in. James, find the earl and let him know what has transpired. He’ll probably be at the club.”

“No!” Buffy yelled. “Just…just take me to Renee…please?”

“Certainly, Lady Thornton,” Clayton soothed, guiding her to the street and walking beside her towards the Marchioness’ townhouse. James had fallen into step behind the pair, but at a glance back from the Viscount, he slipped off and began his search for the master vampire.

Lady Atherton was indeed in, and she stood waiting on her steps with Alric as they came into sight. Seeing the disheveled human, she tore down the steps and quickly embraced the girl, soothing her as she began to cry. Renee looked over at Clayton, her brow arched in a silent question.

“We found her like this, being assaulted by human riffraff.”

There were cuts and bruises on her upper arms, the smell of her blood tantalizing their senses.

“Come, Elizabeth…let’s get you inside, shall we?”

Renee waved the two men off as she swept across the threshold, her pointed look leaving no doubts as to their next assignment. The earl needed to be found.

Immediately.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy offered no protest as she was led upstairs into Renee’s suite of rooms. Upon entering, the vampiress instructed her maid to draw a warm bath, and the two waited a few minutes until the servant reappeared with several men carrying buckets of steaming water to fill the tub. Dismissing her maid, Renee directed Elizabeth behind the screen and into the soothing water.

The heated liquid enveloped her body as the Slayer sank down in the basin until just her head peaked over the rim. She flinched slightly when she felt the vampiress at her back, but relaxed when Renee did nothing more than wash her hair and back, performing the lady’s maid-type chore as if it were an honor bestowed upon her. That minor task seen to, the Marchioness left the girl alone to retrieve a cloth so that Elizabeth could dry herself off, draping it over the screen before turning away to find something for the girl to wear. Although of the same build, the vampiress was a few inches taller than the girl, so settled on gowning her in a replacement nightgown and robe. She’d have someone sent round to the earl’s home for a proper set of clothing, figuring the Countess would stay the night here. Laying the outfit on her bed, she rang for her maid. The soft-spoken girl answered the summons within moments and quickly set about removing her mistress’ evening gown and undergarments so Renee could dress for bed.

She had just finished when she heard the ripple in the water announcing Elizabeth’s departure from the tub. The vampiress thought she looked so lost when she slipped from behind the screen, her wet hair hanging about her body while she clung tightly to the cloth draped around her. Renee ignored the blush tingeing the girl’s cheeks and assisted her with getting dried off and dressed. Grabbing her hand, the Marchioness settled her upon the floor before the fire so that she could brush the girl’s hair to allow it to dry.

Buffy closed her eyes at the soothing touch of the brush gliding through her hair, and she gave herself over to the gentle caress. If it weren’t for the tinglies snaking up and down her spine, she could imagine that it was Willow sitting behind her calmly brushing her hair.

The Slayer didn’t move long after the brush was removed from her head. Even though she was in a vampire’s home, was actually sitting before one in such a vulnerable position, she didn’t fear her. Before she remembered who, and what, she was, they’d been friends. Close friends. Their bond similar to that of hers and Willow’s. It was why Buffy had come, sought her out even though she’d not been sure of where Renee had lived.

She needed to talk to someone. Share these feelings buried deep inside. Elizabeth had trusted Renee with her darkest secrets. Buffy just hoped that she could do the same.

Gazing off into the flames, her arms wrapped around her drawn up legs, Buffy’s whispered words seemed like gunshots in the otherwise silent room.

“My name is Buffy. I’m…I’m the Slayer.”

~*~*~*~*~

Renee just sat there and waited. And listened. She could hear the girl’s heart hammering in her chest while she told her story. Everything about how she’d come to be here, her thoughts and feelings as she’s been “Elizabeth,” when her memories returned, and the visit from the Powers’ messenger.

Through it all, the vampiress had remained quiet, letting the words spill from the girl huddled in front of her. When she was finished, when the last word left Buffy’s lips and she began to cry in earnest, Renee slipped from her chair and sat beside her. Her arms wrapped instinctively around the sobbing girl, pulling her back against her body. That small act of kindness seemed to be the other’s undoing, because Buffy wept even harder, her grief so great, that at times, no sound seemed to emerge from her throat. Renee wasn’t sure how long the girl cried, but when the Slayer finally wound down, she spoke.

“Surely the fact that you’re stuck in the past for an undetermined amount of time isn’t cause for your tears. What is it that really has you upset?” Renee’s hand reached out and soothed the hair from the other girl’s face, urging Buffy to lift her head and meet her gaze.

Buffy’s eyes met that of her friend’s and she was surprised at the compassion she saw lingering in their depths.

“Why are you not attacking me?” the Slayer blurted out suddenly. “I mean, Slayer here…”

Renee chuckled lightly, her lips turned up in a slight smile.

“Well, for one thing, the earl would have my head if I laid a hand on you. And, well…you’re my friend. At least I hope you’re my friend.”

“It’s just…”

“I know…but, we’re alike, you and I.”

“How?”

The vampiress just looked at Buffy, her brow arched. The Slayer wracked her brain of every conversation she’d ever had with the Marchioness, her eyes going wide as she remembered the story of her turning.

“You knew beforehand. Before you were turned. About vampires.”

“Yes.”

“And it didn’t scare you? Disgust you? To have feelings for one of them?”

Renee’s eyes flashed amber, slightly darker than her natural color, before she managed to tamp down her rage.

“That’s what this is about.”

Buffy hung her head, surprised at the shame she felt at the other’s censure.

“It’s just…he’s evil. You’re evil. And, I’m the Slayer. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have friends…vampire friends. But…”

“But things aren’t all black and white, are they?”

“No,” Buffy whispered. And therein lay the problem.

“Is it the claim? Is that what’s making me feel this way?” the Slayer asked. She was desperate for any excuse. Something that would explain away these burgeoning feelings she had for one blond-headed vampire. Her husband.

“You know the answer to that.”

“But…”

“What are you so scared of? It’s ok to love him. Elizabeth did. Loved him with an intensity rarely seen among the ton. Or vampires, for that matter. And, though you have your memories back, you’re still her. A woman deeply in love with her husband.”

“But he’s evil,” she cried.

“And yet, he’s claimed you as his. Has gifted you with his name and protection. Has done everything asked of him so far from these ‘Powers’ for this destiny you two seem ordained to share.”

Buffy’s mouth worked, opening and closing around thoughts that couldn’t be put to words. She stared at the vampiress, her young mind giving voice to all the teachings of Merrick and then Giles.

“Things happen for a reason, Buffy. For you, you were meant to be here, with William. These Powers seem to want you together. What more confirmation do you need?”

She couldn’t answer her.

“Come…let’s get you to bed. Clayton and the others are out looking for your husband right now, and it’s safe to say that you’ll need to get what sleep you can. He’s not going to be happy when he shows up here.”

Buffy nodded and stood, allowing herself to be guided down to the guest quarters. A fire was blazing in the hearth and she slipped between the covers allowing Renee to settle the blankets around her body. Without a word, she turned and left the room.

“Renee?”

The vampiress stopped at the door, glancing back over her shoulder at the dark-haired Slayer.

“I…thank you. For listening. For being my friend.”

Renee nodded once, smiling softly.

“Rest, child.”

Needing no further urging, Buffy snuggled into the pillows and closed her eyes.

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