Pairing: Willow/?
Archive: My website: www.geocities.com/bloodandfirefic and Red's Soul Mates.
Author's Comments: Just a little Halloweenish ficlet that I wrote last night J
Feedback: Send it to: bloodandfirefic@yahoo.com '
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Darkness had long fallen and large raindrops pounded furiously on the pavement when the cab pulled to a screeching halt in front of 150 Badsworth Rd. Willow exited the car and made a mad dash for the front door of the building, all the while fumbling with the set of keys. It had been a long flight, and an even longer day shuttling from meeting to meeting. She was grateful for the position Giles had secured for her as head researcher for a reputable paranormal research foundation, but the endless burocracy of the position and the constant traveling often tested the woman's patience. '
Willow stumbled around in the darkness until she found a lamp near the
entryway. A slight click and orange light illuminated the room. There were
books everywhere, they crowded the bookshelves that covered every inch
of the walls, and were stacked in perilous piles in every corner. There
was barely enough room left for a small couch, chair and lamp. The owner
of the house was a book antiquarian employed by the foundation and this
was not only his home, but also his place of business. The old house was
also to be Willow's accommodations and research headquarters during her
stay in London. The owner was away at the time, but he had given permission
for her to use the house in his absence. Exhausted from the day's trials,
Willow followed Giles' directions to the guests' bedroom on the top floor.
The room was austere, but it was clean and it had a bed, which made it
feel like heaven to Willow after the day she'd had. Discarding her wet
clothes, Willow slipped into a t-shirt. She
collapsed on the bed and was soon asleep.
'
It was sometime later when something awoke her. She lay stiffly on the bed, listening intently for what could have awakened her. For a moment she heard nothing and was about to drift back to sleep when she heard a small shuffling sound just outside the bedroom door. The owner of the house was not due back until morning, but perhaps he had arrived early. Or maybe she had forgotten to lock the front door and someone had followed her into the house! '
"Who is there?" She called out tentatively. '
She received no response but a cold draft drifted into the room, ruffling the curtains and caressing her face. A chill traveled up her spine and Willow jumped out of the bed, stumbling in the unfamiliar surroundings for a light switch. Before she could find it, a dim light suddenly illuminated the room and Willow froze where she stood, wondering as to the source of the light but too afraid to look. A soft male voice intruded into her confused thoughts. Willow whirled around violently, tripping over the small vanity table she didn't remember been there. She almost fell to the floor, but the stranger caught her in his arms. '
"I have startled you! How thoughtless of me, my love. I'm a brute! Please forgive me. Are you well? Are you hurt?" '
Willow frowned at the anguish and alarm reflected in the man's voice. Surely a burglar wouldn't be so concerned about her well being, or apologize so effusively for frightening her. Willow stood back from the arms that held her and ran a hand over her disheveled hair. '
"I'm fine. Who." '
The question died on her lips as she took in the appearance of the intruder. He looked strange and yet oddly familiar. A young man in his mid twenties, he was dressed in a gray suit that appeared to be, in her estimation, in the late nineteenth century style. His blonde, curly hair was pulled back into a queue and there was something both awkward and elegant about him. But it was his eyes that grabbed her attention; they were the color of a clear sky and as soft and warm as a summer breeze. So enthralled was she by his eyes that it took her a moment to recognize the man. When she did, she took a nervous step back. '
"Spike! What are you doing here? Did Giles send you? Is everything alright with Angel?" She asked cautiously. '
She had never truly disliked Spike, especially not after he had gotten the chip implanted and had joined their cause. However, she did harbor what could be described as a healthy respect for the maverick vampire, if not outright distrust. '
"I know not these people of whom you speak and no one sent me here. I've been waiting for you for a very long time. I know how you feel about me, that you think me beneath you, that my poems somehow offend you, but please hear me when I tell you that my love is of the truest kind and that I would travel to the ends of earth and time to prove it to you!" '
Willow was momentarily left speechless by the discourse. The man standing in front of her bore an uncanny resemblance to the Spike she knew, but he spoke nothing like him, not to mention that Willow had no idea what the man was talking about. She addressed him tentatively, beginning to doubt the man's sanity and her safety. '
"I'm sorry; there's been some kind of mistake. I thought you were somebody else, and you have obviously mistaken me for someone you know. I don't believe we have met. My name is Willow." '
An anguished expression came over the man's face. '
"Why do you do this, Cecily? Why is it that you play these cruel games with my affections? I've waited all this time just for the chance to right whatever it is that I've done wrong by you. Why must you now taunt me with indifference by pretending you don't even know me?" '
Tears streamed down the man's face and tugged at Willow's heartstrings. While there was no doubt that the man was insane, he didn't appear angry or dangerous, just very, very sad. Even if she had feared for her safety, her options were limited; there was no telephone in the room, and her own cell-phone was in her purse, well out of her reach. Maybe if she went along with him, told him what he wanted to hear, the man would let down his guard long enough for her to get away. '
"I'm sorry. Of course I know you. It's just, it's just that, well, you startled me awake and I was just, a little, a little, confused, Mr., Mr. ." '
"It is I, William!" '
Willow was startled by the revelation, there was something familiar about the name, but she couldn't make a connection. She quickly tried to regain her composure. '
"Yes, of course, William! Again, I apologize, it's just that, my head, I don't know where it is these days." '
She pointed to the bed, the only place to sit in the room. '
"Please, have a seat. Why were you waiting for me; what did you want to tell me?" '
The man shuffled his feet and looked nervously around the room before reluctantly sitting on the edge of the bed. At that moment Willow felt sorry for the man, whoever he was. He looked shy and awkward, but above all, sincere. Instinctively, she reached out a hand and placed it on his shoulder. '
"Tell me, William. Why are you so sad?" She softly whispered. '
Hurt and misty eyes looked up at her. '
"I love you, Cecily. I've loved you for as long as I can remember. Do you believe me?" '
Willow smiled encouragingly. "Yes, William; I believe you." '
"My poems, every syllable of them is about you, about the way I feel, I can't help it. I know I'm a bad poet, but I'm a good man, and the feeling behind them is real. I know that this is sudden and I expect nothing in return from you, only that you see me for who I am, a man who loves you and would do anything for you. I love you, Cecily." '
Willow's eyes filled with tears at his declaration. She was wondering about this Cecily and how cruel she must have been to hurt this man so badly. She suddenly realized that William had grown silent and was anxiously awaiting a response from her. Willow cleared her throat and gathered her thoughts. '
"I'm very flattered, William. Your poems don't offend me, and I don't think you're beneath me. I don't know why I said those things." Willow hesitated. "I did say those things, didn't I?" '
William nodded, obviously pained by the memory. '
"I was a silly, silly, girl, and mean, and stupid, not to mention a royal bit.. What I mean is, I'm sorry, and I never meant to say those things to you." Willow concluded with a sincere smile. '
At her words, the veil of sadness lifted from William's face and he jumped to his feet. "Oh, Cecily, I'm so happy, truly; I must write a poem about this! That is, if you don't mind if I do!" '
Willow was gladdened by the man's change in disposition; she also saw an opportunity to get him out of the room. '
"Oh, no, not at all. Write away! Actually, you know, you should go and get started on that poem right now, you know, while the idea is still fresh in your head!" '
A broad smile brightened William's face. '
"Oh, Cecily, you are intelligent, and generous. And your beauty, it is, effulgent!" '
Willow grinned. "Yeahp, that's me, effulgent!" '
William started for the door, but a sigh of relief had barely escaped Willow's lips when he suddenly stopped and turned to face her. Willow swallowed hard, wondering what he was going to do next. '
"My lady, I hope you don't think me forward for what I'm about to ask, but I'm so happy right now that -- if you could oblige me with -- I would be most grateful if you would grant me." '
Willow frowned. "Grant you what?" She asked. '
"No, perhaps I shouldn't." William turned around as if to leave, but appeared to change his mind and turned around. "Yes, I must. A kiss." '
Willow hesitated. It was one thing to pretend to be someone else, but to kiss a total stranger, a crazy one at that, was an entirely different matter. In the end, it was the man's forlornly hopeful gaze that made up her mind. '
"Ok, one kiss, and then you must go." '
William nodded in accord as he slowly approached her. Willow stiffened momentarily as the man's lips chastely brushed against hers. She closed her eyes, and in that instant she felt the same cool breeze that had entered the room shortly before the man appeared. Startled, she opened her eyes to find herself alone in the room. Confused, she looked around the room for him. After determining that she was, indeed, alone, Willow walked to the door. She found it locked from the inside, just as she had left it before going to bed. A feeling of dread and apprehension filled her. Was it possible that she had imagined the whole thing? Had it been a dream? Willow spent the rest of the night anxiously pondering the incident, intently listening for any noise, startled by the slightest rustle of the wind. Morning light was peering over the horizon by the time Willow finally managed to drift back to sleep. '
Later that day, Willow was once again awakened by an insistent tapping on the door. "Miss Rosenberg, Miss Rosenberg, are you in there?" '
"Yes, I'm in here. Who is this?" '
She was relieved when she heard the answer from the other side. '
"It is I, Mr. Sullivan, the owner of this house. Did they not tell you that I would return today?" '
Willow quickly jumped out of the bed. She was still tired, and trouble by the events of the previous night; she must have overslept. '
"Yes, yes! I'm sorry I slept so late, I will be down in a moment." '
"Don't worry, Ms. Rosenberg, take your time." '
Willow heard the man's footsteps disappear down the hallway as she hastily got dressed. Twenty minutes later she had joined Mr. Sullivan in the main floor of the house. He was a gentleman in his 60's, with a distinguished bearing, kind eyes and a full mane of silver hair. Willow was compelled to apologize for her tardiness and her disheveled appearance. '
"I'm sorry, I don't usually sleep so late, it's just that I had the strangest dream last night." '
Mr. Sullivan looked up from the book he was examining. "A dream you say? What kind of a dream?" '
Willow giggled self-consciously. It all seemed rather absurd in the light of day, but it had been so real the previous night. '
"It was really rather silly. There was this guy named William and he was sad because he was in love with a girl named Cecily and she didn't like him." Willow paused when she noticed the surprised expression on the man's face. "What's the matter, are you alright?" '
"Yes, yes, I'm quite alright, it's just that I've heard the stories, although I've never seen it myself." '
Willow frowned. "Seen what? What stories?" '
"The ghost, my dear! At the turn of the century this house was occupied by a very prominent family. They had an only daughter named Cecily, rather spoiled. If I remember correctly, the story is that this girl had a suitor, a young poet by the name of William. One night, at a parlor not far from here, Cecily not only spurred his advances, but ridiculed the shy man in front of the other guests. The man left the gathering hurt and humiliated, never to be seen or heard from again. Ever since, there have been stories of people seeing a young man wandering the halls of the upper floors and trying to talk to female guests who spend the night in the guest room. It was Cecily's room when she lived in this house." '
Recognition and understanding dawned on Willow. "William? William the Bloody?" '
She remembered learning from Giles that as a human, Spike had been a young poet living in London, known as William the Bloody for his 'bloody awful poetry'! '
"Yes! Are you familiar with the legend?" '
Willow shrugged. "I can tell you one thing; I don't think the ghost of William the Bloody is going to be bothering any more of your guests." '
She flashed a secretive smile and took the book from the perplexed librarian's hands. '
"So, let's see, what are we working on today?" '
The End
back