From the (Semi) Complete Works of William Soames Walthrop...

Summary: Poems, Essays from the works of William Soames Walthrop, aka Spike...in the Buffy Rebecca verse...

Additional contributions to the recovery of the lost works of England's third worst poet are always welcome...


London, England 1880
For Cicely...

(Cicely?...BR...and, from her seat, Buffy give identical stares...
Ummn...Well...You see dearest...)

My soul is wrapped in harsh repose,
midnight descends in raven-colored clothes,
but soft...behold!
A sunlight beam
cutting a swath of glimmering gleam.
My heart expands,
'tis grown a bulge in it,
inspired by your beauty...
Effulgent...

(A weeping BR eyes a weeping Buffy...
Wow...They sigh in unison...
"Glimmering gleam?..." Dawn blinks at her weeping..."Shut up, Dawn"...sisters...)

***

Sunnydale 2000-2001

Stopping by the Woods On a Bloody Evening...

        These Sunnydale woods are dank and deep...
        Just perfect for my need...
        I drag the lady in a bag...
        For I have done the deed...

        Her head now falls out from the sack...
        Her lips do reek of gin...
        A bloody hand sags from the bag...
        I stuff it quickly in...
        
        Her corpse is lovely, a bloody heap...
        But dawn is nearing...Soon I must sleep
        And I have human happy meals to reap...

        So farewell woods...Farewell bloody bag...
        Goodbye you poor Godforsaken hag...
        For dawn is nearing and I must sleep...
        And still have human happy meals to reap...

***

I Gave My Love a Blood-Spattered Corpse...

        I gave my love a blood-spattered corpse...
        She said to me... "Oooh, Spikey..."
        
        "This bloody corpse is just the thing...
        You got it oh...So rightly..."

        Quoth my Dru... "You always know...
        The thing to do politely..."

        I gave my love a blood-spattered corpse...
        Now she expects one...Nightly...
***
        
Chalice...

        Slayer, oh Slayer...

        My chalice, my red-rimmed cup of life and death...

        I drink deep and leave you empty...

***

(With apologies to Robert Browning)

My Third Slayer...

That's my third Slayer mounted on the wall,

Looking as if she were alive. I call

That piece a wonder, now; Pandolf's hands

(Do you know his taxidermy work?...The greatest of our demonic artisans?...)

Worked busily a day, and there she hangs.

Will't please you sit and look at her? I said

"Pandolf" by design, for never read

Strangers like you that pictured countenance,

That depth and passion of its earnest glance,

But to myself they turned (since none puts by

The curtain drawn for you, but I)

And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,

How such a glance came there; so not the first

Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 't was not

Her nemesis'presence only, called that spot

Of fire into the Slayer's cheek: perhaps in the heat of battle

I chanced to say "Looking good, Slayerness"

or "Quite a dance always with you" or "Put your hands on my hot, tight

little ass and make me..." such stuff

Was more than mere gallant courtesy, she thought, and cause enough

For calling up that spot of passion. She had

A heart - how shall I say? - too soon made glad,

Too easily impressed: she liked whate'er

She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.

Sir, 't was all one! Her friends' smiles on her,

The dropping of the daylight in the West,

The bough of cherries that officious fool Harris

Broke in the orchard for her, some wisecrack I made to her-all and each

Would draw from her alike the approving speech,

Or blush,at least. She mocked me - good! but she also touched me

Somehow - I know not how - as if she ranked

Me with the race of men. Who'd stoop to blame

This sort of trifling? Even had you skill

In speech - (which I have not) - to make your will

Quite clear to such a one, and say, "Just this

Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss

Or there exceed the mark; You waste time, Slayer,

Such trifles don't impress William the Bloody;

Lets' get on with it, girl"- and if she let

Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set

Her wits to yours, forsooth, made excuse, and stuck to the programme...

- E'en then would be some stooping; and I choose

Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled and would talk...and talk,

Whene'er I encountered her as if to offer me hope; but what vampire needs a

human's smile? This grew; I waited my chance;

Then all smiles stopped together. There she hangs

As if alive. But forever silent...

My Buffy...My one hope...

Will 't please you rise? We'll meet

The company below, then. I repeat,

The Count Dracula your master's known munificence

Is ample warrant that no just pretence

Of mine for dowry will be disallowed;

Though his fair 'daughter''s self and the merging of our vampiral families,

As I avowed at starting is my object. Nay, we'll go

Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though,

Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity,

Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me.

(Well?...Spike looked at Harmony... "Neat...But the Slayer'll gonna kill you if she ever sees this..."

"Say...Who's Robert Browning?..."

"Ole pal from the '80s...18 that is...A hack I knew...But he had a few ideas I've made use of in my work..." Spike noted solemnly...)

Dropped in from the "normal" Buffyverse, courtesy of Big Bad...

"Life or Something Like It..." (Big Bad)...

It's cold here, it's always cold here.

The rain soaked gravestones are cold to the touch even on dead flesh,
dead hands touching reminders of what once was alive. Kind of ironic
don't you think.

How many people are here, how many unfulfilled lives made their way to
this place ?, does it matter now ?

I wonder, but I don't dwell.

The night air used to bring excitment and promise, songs and laughter,
fear and pain but no longer, nights are empty except for these few
moments when there is peace.

She always talked like this, a mixture of the real and surreal,
ancient incantations, like made up rhymes and how the stars used to
sing to her during the daylight hours and now I'm more like her than I
care to be.

What does it take to be the kind of man who would never hurt her,
shame on me, shame on you, thinking, dreaming, wasting endless tears,
trying to cut away the pain, take the spark out before it burns from
the inside out.

I dreamt many long sleepless nights, seeing it over and over in my
mind, killing her, I think there were dreams but it's them, me, it, the
other, they let me see what I am, the thing inside and they tell me,
all tell me, to go to hell.

Not her though.

She leaves me alone, leaves me to burn in my guilt, all I am is flesh
to her, not even real flesh, a ghost of the man I used to be, no, a
ghost of a ghost.

left alone to burn.

Don't blame her though.

Can't use sorry, can't say forgive me, they are no words for what I've
done, no words from me but the others have plenty to say, I hear them,
see them, feel the pain I caused them and the thing inside still
raging.

Listen to me, I sound like him now, was it so long ago that I tore
through countries, leaving behind angry mobs and trails of bodies,
fists and fangs, if it wasn't funny it would be sad.

Now look at me, wandering through the graves, alone, except I'm not
alone, not in here.

She comes to me sometimes, I don't know if it is real or not but here
she is again telling me that I belong to her, always been hers, her
sweet dark prince and I keep waiting for the punchline to the joke.

I was always hers, she was never mine, story of my unlife, she made
me, wanted a pet and being the fool I am, I followed her without
question, trailing behind like a lovesick schoolboy, hanging on every
word, it's the same with both of them. One tried to keep me in the
darkness, the other kept me out of the light.

Couldn't be the man she needed, couldn't be the man she could love and
that's the reason, thought I had the cure, find the missing piece, the
one that made me fit.

Oh, I found it, fought for it, killed for it and all it does is burn.

Burn.

Burn.

Burn.

Always said I was love's bitch, now I've got this collar, this weight,
this prison inside my own mind, all for her, didn't know if I needed
the spark back before, didn't want it back, I've seen what it can do to
creatures like me, well, one creature like me.

But that was before.

Things changed so fast.

The rules changed.

Can't go back and fix things, can't take back the things I've done,
can't hurt the girl, not again.

Funny how somethings don't change ain't it ? too evil, not evil
enough, too cocky and arrogant, too thoughtful and sensitive, never fit
in but always there in the background, in the shadows, waiting, hoping
for a chance.

A chance for what ? to be the hero ? to be the man ? or just to be
anything other than what I am, lifeless, a cold, dead body inhabited by
a demon, time was this dead flesh was enough for her, to use and abuse,
it made her feel alive again, left me broken and bleeding.

Never did stop loving her, don't think I will

I'll fight for her, protect her, love her until I'm just dust in the
wind, so I suppose that's life or something like it.

Here she is, stood in front of me, lecturing, prodding me in the chest
with her fingers, going through the same old motions of telling me that
I'm worthless, no good and with a punch to the face she leaves.

She ends her tiresome tirade and walks away, flicking her long blonde
hair out of her eyes, I see her do that sometimes when she is upset or
angry and I feel the rage build up inside so I remind myself, it's not
time yet.

Bitch is going to get what she deserves, after all I've done for her,
ungratefull little bint.

I sit in the candlelight , alone, here where I feel like I belong,
with the rest of the dead, I'm not much for company these days, not
since she came back.
None of them need me now she's back, I helped them when there was no
one else, fought for them, bled for them and now?

Now I'm thrown away, useless, can't be a man, can't be a monster and I
thought she was messed up, what a world we live in, the heroes are the
abusers and the bad guys are the victims, and yet I'm told it's all for
the greater good.

Convinient, isn't that what she called me once, that being with me was
killing her, killing her ? all I was good for was a fight or a fuck.

The sun sets and she appears, I could tell her how much I love her but
it falls on deaf ears, I've said the words a thousand times and meant
it every single time.
the things we have shared, dreams, hopes, fears and still it comes down
to this.

I'm a thing, an evil, souless, disgusting thing, I'm not real, these
feelings are just an echo of a former life when my heart was beating,
my love for her an illusion.

So whats her excuse ?

I stand on her doorstep, it would be simple, a little knock and the
door would open, well, that was then this is now, I'm not invited
anymore.

I'm on the outside.

Even way back in my bad old days I was always on the outside, getting
slapped down for steeping out of line, that was before the attitude
kicked inand then, then it all changed.
Because, if your looking for fun theres death or glory, sod all else.

My name was spoken in scared whispers, talked about in dark back rooms,
here in the darkness I was nothing more than a myth, the demon who
demons feared, the man that men feared until I saw her for the first
time, I remember it as if it was yesterday.

The way she moved, so predatory, smooth, her smile that hid the weight
of the world but still shined like the brightest star in the heavens,
she was glowing, ( Effulgent, I hear a whisper in the back of my mind
).

I was there to kill her.

I was going to swim in her blood, do the bloody backstroke in it, I
promised myself that I would drain her of life and leave her wretched
body in the gutter, I was never one who dragged it out, that was always
his thing, the one who taught me.

He had fun with the torture, play little games until he was bored and
then he would end it, but he didn't get bored very easily, me, it was
always get in, kill, get out, no big deal, she was different though, I
wanted to dance all night with her becuase she didn't seem like the
type to give up easy or beg for her life, I would have had a whole lot
of fun.

All the plans and schemes, well, they got shot to shit didn't they ?
the real nightmare began when I realised I was in love with her.

I thought that this could be it, my way out of the darkness but no.
I wasn't good enough, never good enough for her or her friends so I was
forced back, back into the drakness, where the voices were waiting,
taunting me for trying to be a real boy again, that I've had my chance
at life, I can't have a second one.

She left me beaten and bloody more times than I care to recall but if
that's what it takes for her to feel again, to be the woman I fell in
love with then so be it.

So this is life ? or something like it.

Yeah, bitch will get what she deserves and she deserves to be loved, to
be happy, to be able to love again, let people in, she can never get it
through that stubborn head of hers that she doesn't always have to go
it alone, life of the chosen few, you can save the world one life at a
time but still feel insignificant.

Found the spark I did, went to great lengths, very private, very
personal, I let it burn, let it purge the sins from my flesh.
I' ll face my fate whatever it may be, if I go out with a bang or a
whimper really doesn't matter to me anymore, not now.

She said " I love you "

I don't believe it, don't believe her but still, it's nice to hear her
say it.

I can finally feel it inside, my soul, bit worse for lack of use but
it's there, I don't have to die as a monster but on my feet as a man,
the man who loved her, who has been forgiven for all I've done.

The fights over now, we have lost so much but gained more than we ever
hoped but I think I'll stick around and see how the show ends, who
would have ever thought that it would be me, out of everyone, I would
be the hero this time, even though I have to pay a high price.

She said she loves me, it's a lie, I know that but it makes it all
worthwhile.

And now as I burn from the inside out, slowly becoming only dust in the
wind, I think.

So, this is life or something like it.

In the remains of his life she finds what she never expected,
scribbled in by his own hand, words he found inside of himself that
made him more than he ever thought he could be.

A thousand times he said " I love you " and sometimes it was easier to
imagine it was all a lie, she knows, probably always did,she was wrong
to deny his feelings from him, wrong to deny her own feelings.

I hear her call my name on the wind
I see her eyes in the stars
her scent surounds my fallen body
breathes life into my soul.

I call her name with no reply
a guiding light in the darkness I have become
and yet she is gone
so far, so close.

the silence I speak
and in shadows I hide
shadows of the man I used to be
an empty shell, a ghost to all.

sense give way to the pain she caused
the lies and anger
hatred and rage
they live inside, the demon waits.

and they are all here
them, her, it, me
they tell me, all tell me
go to hell.

I hear her cry what what I've done
the tears fall cold on lifeless skin
I feel without feeling
love without being loved.

what it takes to be a man
and when to say I'm wrong
to be the love she never had
from the ashes of my soul.

The wind blows gently on the ashes of the fallen, there's nothing left
of him except of few flecks of dust and the words he left behind, so
this is what it takes to be the man who she could love, to be the one
she could forgive and she remembers him ask her in desperation, tears
rolling down his face.

Can we rest now ?

He has his wish at last.

***

"I Know Where I'm Going"

Song implanted in BR's memory...

Gift to BR courtesy Amelia Walthrop...(Spike's BR verse Mum) and good old

Warren...

I know where I'm goin'

and I know who's goin' with me

I know who I love

and my dear knows who I'll marry.

I have stockings of silk

and shoes of bright green leather

Combs to buckle my hair

and a ring for every finger

O' feather beds are soft

and painted rooms are bonnie

But I would give them all

for my handsome winsome Johnny

Some say that he's poor,

but I say that he's bonnie

Fairest of them all

is my handsome winsome Johnny.

(I must admit this pic Will put with the song in our album is cute...BR thought...Though I wish he'd found one of me in something a leetle more...

"Do you like that one?...Dawn asked..."I told Will it was sweet...He wasn't sure...

But I told him you'd prefer it to some fancy dress thing..."

Umm..."Yeah...It's great...Just perfect..."

Well, it really is cute..)

     
ECHOES
(by M.Scott Eiland...With BR verse modifications and our heartfelt thanks...)

        There is silence for a moment, then I hear the tone of the phone ringing on
the other end of the line.

        The telephone was a curiosity for the rich when Dru turned me. It wasn't
until after Peaches got his soul and Darla had abandoned us in disgust that I
actually used one. . .handy gadget, it is. Letters are fine for a lot of
things, but being able to hear the voice of the person you're communicating
with can give you a world of information that words on a piece of paper never
will.

        I hear the phone on the other end ringing for the third time, then comes the
click. I close my eyes again and just listen.

        "Hi, you've reached the Summers residence. No one's here right now-"

        Buffy's voice is calm, remarkably so considering when she made this recording.
Joyce's voice used to be there, and stayed there until two days after she
died. I know this because when I first heard the news, I called Buffy. The
machine picked up and I heard Joyce's friendly voice asking me to leave a
message. I was about to do so when Buffy picked up the receiver and said,
"Hello?" in a dead voice that made me shudder to hear it. I broke the
connection and went into a lengthy brood that would have impressed Angel before
I got my nerve together to leave flowers for Joyce. . .that didn't go well at
all. When I called again, after the whole fiasco with the Niblet and the spell
to try to bring Joyce back, Joyce's voice had been replaced by Buffy's. . .in a
way, I felt I had missed my chance to say goodbye to her. Joyce was all right:
she would have taken my bloody head off in an instant if she thought I was a
real threat to Buffy, but she treated me with respect. . .can't ask for more
than that, really.

        ". . .but if you leave your name and number, Dawn or I will get back to you as
soon as we can. Thanks for ca-"

        I hang up the receiver. I know very well how that machine works: lurking
around that house as much as I did before Buffy caught on to what I was up to
let me figure out a lot of things. Hang up the phone before the message ends,
and nothing is picked up by the recorder. . .not even the click of the
connection being broken. I could do this a thousand times, and as long as no
one picks up on the other end, there will be no record of what I had done,
unless the neighbors complain about the incessantly ringing phone.

        I press the redial button for the fifteenth time: another great invention.
Phones have gone from cranks to dials to buttons, and now I can repeat this
torture I have devised for myself by the simple actions of pressing the redial
button and then hanging up when the time comes. Lather, rinse, repeat.

        The click comes again, and as Buffy begins to speak, I concentrate on the
sound of her voice, remembering what it sounded like when she or BR were happy (I was
deeply pissed off at Red for a while after that spell fiasco a while back, but
lately I've been thinking about how her voice sounded under its influence. . .BR's I realize
now...), and when she...they... was...were... so angry that I would swear that the walls would
come down from the sharpness of her tone. That quiver in her voice when she
was on the edge, but desperately trying to hold on. I listen, then break the
connection again.

        I want to drop the receiver once and for all and find a dark corner to hide in
until the others come for me, so that I can remember their Buffy and mine with a bit more
dignity than I've shown in the last few hours. Rupert had to drag me away from the scene. . .daylight was approaching and I would have been dust rather quickly if he hadn't. I wasn't consciously committing suicide-I just didn't want to leave that place, because it would be
admitting that she...both had died there. Pointless and irrational. Death does that
to you.

        I press the redial button again, and this time I think of Buffy's eyes as I
listen. Everything about her in both her forms was glorious (arrgh, can't I think of a better
word than that for her right now? No, it fits. . .associations with deceased
hellbitches aside), but her eyes were the center of her being: pools of green
electricity that shouted to the world what she was thinking. I could learn
more from a single glance from my Buffies than I could from listening to most people
for decades, if not centuries. I knew her, knew her too damned well, and I had
to watch as my taunting to her last year came true in the most agonizing way
possible. . .a fitting punishment for me.
        Click. Wait. Press the button. Wait. Listen. This time, I try to remember
how she smelled. The tang of perspiration after she tore through a small crowd
of vampires and tured back to me with a disgusted expression. The scent I
associated with the rare moments when she was content in my presence. . .it
always reminded me of cinnamon and roses. The faintly acrid smell when she was
staring at me in a towering rage. . .I was quite familiar with that one. The
faintly musky scent as she looked at me with resignation as we prepared for the
final battle-

        I hang up the receiver forcefully, and I begin to cry. Hardly the first time
I've ever done that. . .there were times when I despaired of finding a cure for
Drusilla, and there was nothing nearby to kill to let the tension out. . .a
good long cry always did the trick. Of course, anyone who saw me doing it was
not going to be long for this world. . .at least until this damned chip screwed
up my unlife. These days, I just made sure that no one would see me-

        "Spike."

        Slowly, I raise my head, and Tara is there, looking at me with an expression
that I can not decipher. I don't know her as well as the others. . .she is
quiet and seems to seek out the shadows that Red and the others cast, to hide
behind. I saw what Glory did to her hand, and knew that until she lost her
marbles, she had remained as silent as I had with death and madness staring her
in the eye. Hard not to respect that, even in someone who had no particular
reason to like me much.

        She looks at me with sad eyes, then responds, "I went back to get some clothes
for Dawnie. . .I heard the phone, Spike." She inclines her head at the phone
next to me, then elaborates, "I didn't want to pick up, in case it was someone
who didn't know me who wanted to leave a personal message. I listened through
three cycles, Spike. . .I know what you were doing."

        A lie comes unbidden to my lips, but I can not bring myself to utter the
words. I blink hard, wishing that I could summon one of my old rages and snarl
at Tara for intruding on my grief and compulsive self-torture. I shake my head
and whisper, "I suppose that you'll tell all of the others what I've been up
to. . .doubt it will surprise any of them."

        Tara sighs, then walks over to sit next to me on the couch. We both sit
silently as the seconds tick by, then she turns to me and replies, "Spike. .
.my mother died three and a half years ago, after a long, lingering illness.
You've seen the rest of my family, so it probably won't shock you to hear that
I was much closer to her than I was to any of them.."

        I nod, and Tara continues, "After she died, I withdrew from just about
everything. Dad and Donnie were actually decent to me during that time, but
nothing helped. Then one day, I remembered a tape that I had of her reading
some old stories about witchcraft to me. It was the only remaining recording
of her voice. I found that tape, and I played it over and over, until it
started to sound scratchy from use. I didn't care. I would have listened to
that tape over and over forever, but after two months my father caught me
listening to it just as Mom was describing a particularly arcane ritual."

        I frown, guessing what probably happened next. Tara nods and elaborates, "He
took the tape out of the player, and scolded me for engaging in idolatry and
wickedness. 'The dead are the dead, Tara,' he told me, 'and dwelling on them
can only lead to evil. . .just like witchcraft.' He took the tape and tossed
it into the basement furnace, and left me down there, sobbing."

        My expression tightens, and Tara sees it and gives me the ghost of an
appreciative look before concluding, "It was right there that I knew I had to
leave that place. I made plans, left, and never looked back until they showed
up here wanting to drag me home."

        I nod again, and Tara meets my eyes with a bit more force than I am used to
seeing there. She sighs and comments, "Spike. . .even if you end up being a
good guy, I doubt we're ever going to have too much in common. You've spent
too much of your existence trying to hurt people, including people I love more
than anyone else in the world." She pauses, then gestures at the phone and
adds, "But this. . .this I understand, Spike. Buffy...Both of them...was worth loving,
and the fact that you realized that, even as late as you did, means something to me."
She stands up, then concludes, "I'm going back to the Summers' house, and I'll
take the tape out: someone might record over it, and they might regret it
later if they do. I'll keep it safe in case anyone wants it."

        I sit silently, stunned, and Tara takes my silence as assent as she turns to
go. I shake off my lethargy and call out, "Tara."

        She turns back to me, and I concentrate on keeping my composure as I whisper,
"Would you let the others know. . .I wish I could be there for Buffy."

        She looks at me sadly and replies, "They know, Spike. . .they know." Shaking
her head, she walks away and slips quietly out of the front door. I wait a
moment, then begin to cry again. . .in gladness that Tara will be saving a
small part of both Buffies, and in despair over that being all that is left of her. I
glance at the clock: the time before I can leave to join the others will seem
endless. Helplessly, I wait and remember her.

        They were one, after all...

With thanks and credit to

M. Scott Eiland


The Lost Bird...

        There is no home for the lost bird...

        Caught up by storm, driven from home...

        Forever to fly and seek...
        Lost to his world...Lost in yours...

        No spot on any branch...

  Forever to fly and seek...
***

For the Repose of my Gentle Wife's Soul...

At the Greenwood crypt, May 2001...

Dear Joyce, take pity on her, I know your gentle heart will welcome her as it did me...Help me to have the strength to keep your girls safe and my pledge intact...

Mum, Amelia, Phil...hold her close and take her as yours...Forgive your son and brother his weakness and failure and help him now to have the strength to stay on the course his dearest wife has set for him and at last find his way back...

Oh sweet Jesus, my mother swore your mercy was infinite...Take the soul of my sweet wife and keep it safe...Take pity on my lost soul, show me the way to redemption whatever sorrow or burden I must bear, I will bear it...However long it may take...

And if you can find it in your heart...When the time has come...Open the gates of heaven for my Rebecca and me...

***
My Redemption...

Think of Buffy...on a quiet day...after having trouble with me for a
week...But somehow she's avoided staking me...And on that day, when she has
just a few minutes...She wonders...Spike does seem to have some humanity left
in him...What if I tried to help him a little?...Would there be any chance for
him?...Maybe?...

That's Buffy Rebecca...My redemption...

***

Memo:

From: Dr. W.S. Walthrop

To: Dr. W.T. Mears

Dear Warren,

        The following contains a few thoughts regarding our mission statement...

        Mission Statement of W/S Bionetics, Inc...

         Bionetics...The Wave of The Future...

         Our mission, Bionetics, is the Wave of the Future...

By keeping our eyes firmly planted on the future...If we follow through to our proper course, holding firmly to our ideals...Overcoming the obstacles blocking our way...To
         the bright future our products can offer...to those in sore need...
        
         Folks...lets to it...We shall overcome...

***
The Battle of the Sunnydale Mall...

        Twas on a Saturday night...In 2001...The century barely just now begun...
        Oh remember that famous night and year...
        I believe that it was moonless and clear...

        Buffy Rebecca her sister's place did take...
        Me...Rather busy...Avoiding angry Buffy's stake...
        
        Both sisters exposed to mighty Glory's wiles...
 So much for the plans of one Rupert Giles...
        The Brethren were massing at the rear of the Mall...
        Lucky the Knights were always on call...

        Their glorious Emperor was there in their midst...
        Boy, his ancestor Gratian gave Glory the fits...

        With them stood Tara and dear Willow too...
        And scattered around was the rest of Buf's crew...

        Good fellow Xander was posted to Dawn...
        Anya stood with him...Thro she wished he were gone...

        Safely away...As she feared for him too...
        The only sane person in this Goddamn crew...

        Then did pissed-off Glory manifest herself...
        Leaving brother Benedictus stuck on the shelf...

        She wore her bright armor...She gathered her crew...
        A motley collection...Freaks fit for the zoo...

        Then from the other end of the Mall...We all looked to see come charge down the hall...
        In armor, dear Buffy...By that, I mean Sis...With Knights at her elbow...Quoth Glory...
        "What's this?..."

        "Two sisters I see...What is one my Key?..."
        Dreg her little minion...Did crane to see...

        "My lady...It's that one...I'm sure it must be..."
        And pointed at Buffy Rebecca did he...

        Lo, my Buffy Rebecca stood back to the wall...
        Looked pretty bad...We'd run out of hall...

        I dropped down behind her...
        I feared what would ensue...
        What the dangerous cable run to her would do...

        I cried so to see her...Hurt bad she was too...
        But she begged me prove to her that my heart was true...

        I leggo the cable and ran up to Dawn...
        Whom the Knights had decided to send to Fairlawn...

        And Buffy Rebecca faced Glory alone...
        It looked likely our Cause would be soon overthrown...

        For dread Glory had guessed that her Key was dear Dawn...
        And no longer viewed BR as more than a pawn...

        But she was too weak to march on...Without neural feed...
        And only my BR was there for her need...

        She grabbed my dear BR...And plunged hands in her head...
        Then gave out a cry that would wake up the dead...

        She glowed like a lobster...She split right in two...
 Her brother and Glory...Now both in view...         
        They flopped down like flounders...It seemed they were dead...
        But it only was Glory not right in the head...

        I ran down to my BR...
 Warren stood by her head...
        She looked oh so awful...
        I thought she was dead...
        But it merely was lightening gone right thru her head...

        We woke up my BR...She gave us a grin...
        God can my girl take it right on the chin...

        She really was hurting...And no help was her Sis...
        Who came by to tell us...She was still pissed...
        (Censored at the request of Mrs.Summers-Walthrop)

        Warren did check her...All's well down below...
        But boy did that Glory give her quite a blow...

        We settled with Buffy...Got BR to the crypt...
        Stuffed her with painkillers...As her skin was ripped...

        Her brain had a problem...We did not know...
        The lightening had damaged her neural net flow...

        But though we did lose her...I just got her back...
        Thanks to dear Buffy...Who picked up the nack...

        Of calling her "Sister" while they were both dead...
 And holding dear BR's memories in her head...
        Well that is the story of the Battle of the Mall...
 When BR met Glory in the corridor hall...  

("Ummn..." said Willow...BR waiting for her 'honest' opinion of her William's brilliant tributary epic...

"You realize it's for our children..." BR told her...Noting Willow seemed slow to gather words of proper praise..."

"Ah...Very Seussian...They'll love it, I'm sure..."

She had to think about it...BR thought...

Well...Willow was always a computer person...)
***
More...        

Weird Sisters

        One robot, one Slayer, one artificial too
        Two identical...One little....
        My Summers' girl crew...

        All sitting in their living room
        Now talking of Dru...
        
        And all three care about me...
***

Darla At Bat...

There was no joy in Sunnydale for the evil team that day...

My Rebecca had knocked them flat...For the whole month of May...

And though BR was dead now, Buffy Anne still held the sway...

But sadly thing were changin' cause dear old Hank was on his way...

That moron (censored by Mrs. Summers-Walthrop) fell in Drusilla's hands while stopping by LA...

Just the tool ole Darla needed to begin to get her way...

Dru got him good and vamped...Darla took him now in hand...
Her evil plans for Buf and Dawn she saw begin to land...

For dear Buf saw only Daddy when he came through the door...

Otherwise she surely would have staked him to the floor...

The rest of us were at our crypt...Trying hard to call her sis...

Our beloved Buffy Rebecca...Who was sorely missed...

Back at the Summers...Darla in disguise...

Had lured our dearest Summers girls...Whom she secretly despised...

To a certain "restaurant"...Where they were to meet their doom...

And where Drusilla waited...My psycho friend and loon...

But the vamps there had their own ideas and these now began to spawn...

Poor Dru soon finding herself friendless and forlorn...

While Buffy sensed with Slayer sight that something here was wrong...
***
My BR's soul alerted us while we were at the crypt...

That something bad was happening...Evil had Buf in its grip...

We raced to the Summers' home to find that they had gone...

Then good old Giles called us...He'd just seen Buf and Dawn...

Headed to a restaurant on the other side of town...

Both girls looking well enough...Each one in a gown...

We now drove out like maniacs in hope of staying Fate...

Yet all of us somehow knew that we would be too late...

For Darla would not be denied...She'd have her devil's due...

And with Hank in her power our Buf soon was overthrew...

("Overthrew?..." BR asked...)
Her demon sis came up from Hell...Now Buf was a vamp too...

But our BR had joined her...So there was still a chance...

Of keeping down the evil one and Buffy's soul intact...

She turned on Darla and on Dru...Who shook with dread and fled...

In fear of the two human souls that stayed within Buf's head...

We came into the restaurant...And there we found our Giles...

Who told us of these sad events...And of Dawn caught in Dru's wiles...
***
We found poor Dawn...All bloodied out...They'd sucked on her awhiles...

But somehow she was still alive...So it occurred to Giles...

That good old Benedictus might...Help thwart Darla's guiles...

Then finding poor vamped Hank as well...

Giles and I took him...

and sent him ("Spike, this is still my father you are talking about...") Safely home...
***
Buf was wandering all about...With BR in her head...

She'd killed a lass and now...Wished she was fully dead...

But BR got her to go on...And led her to our crypt...

Where I did meet them and dear Willow who used a curse of the Egypt...

To hold dear Buffy's demon down...Get her safely to LA...

Where in the vaults of Wolfram-Hart, the cure for her did lay...

***
And there I put Lilah Morgan in thrall to us that day...

And with her now compliant help we worked to get our way...

Willow and I entered Wolfram-Hart...Red held them all at bay...

You should have seen her...She was great...

And really made them pay...
***
Now did our dear Warren enter thus the fray...

And brought in a new robot...Well BR's body I must say...

But April's brain was in there...And as BA gave us sway...

Over Darla and Drusilla...Who now got in our way...

But Buffy-April threw them all about...And Willow got to say...

The spell that sent demon Buf to hell and kept our Buf here to stay...

But my BR she could not stay...For Buf she must give way...

Thro now I know that she is soul and not simply a gleam...

In my mind's eye...No...No...Say I...And so I can still dream...
***
So Darla failed and Dru has fled...Till we catch up to them...

And Wolfram-Hart is all apart and BR's gone again...

But I have hope...Now I can cope...Till she comes back...Till then...

now I'll stop my pen...
***
***

Thanksgiving...

Dear Red,

Thanks...

You know what I mean...

Yours affectionately,

William S. Walthrop.

(Geesh...Willow thought...Restore his wife's soul for him and this is what I get?...
I mean English understatement is all well and good, but...

"It's a nice note..." Tara said... "I think he's just...Shy...After all our past history with him and all...")

Thanksgiving...II

Dear Buffy,

Nice to have you home...And thanks...

You know what I mean...

Yours affectionately,

William

("No..." Buffy firmly told herself... "There is no hidden meaning here...He's just grateful..."

God I have to get rid of these romantic memories from BR...)

Thanksgiving...III

To Miss Dawn Summers,

We are so glad to have you back...

We really were afraid...

We knew though that you'd have the knack...

Of coming through unscathed...

(Goofy...Still, I rate a rhyme...Dawn thought, rather pleased...

Where's mine?...BR thought...)


***

The Love Song of William Soames Walthrop...

She is there...Out there somewhere...Drifting in eternity...

Waiting for me...Straining to hear...
My desparate plea...

She is not lost...No, never...

I, rather...Am found...

Eternity is ours...

("Could we get that inscribed on my wedding ring?..." BR asked him...

The whole thing...A leetle difficult, darling...

"The last line, Spike...Come on...")

***
Case Report:Proposal

Rebecca Walthrop

Submitted for extra credit to Psych 303: Studies in Deviant Behaviors...

Subject A: A young male in his thirties

Summary:

Subject A has a notable history of criminal violence, committed while undergoing severe life changes, including a condition promoting severe aggressive behavior...Subject A is currently receiving successful treatment by means of an implanted behavioral modification chip and a unique form of nutritional therapy...An newly established settled home life appears to have played a major role as well in reinforcing more acceptable behavior...

Under the influence of the above mentioned therapies, Subject A has shown an increasingly promising capacity for surmounting his previous negative behaviors...One interesting development has been the indication of one or more multiple personalities...It appears under the influence of therapy, the less aggressive, and possibly original, personality has become dominant...

Proposal:

It is proposed that Subject A be studied for the course of this semester with an eye to charting his progress under therapy...

Scrawled across draft copy...

"Subject A" gives his reluctant approval, dear...But still thinks Psychology is a crock...
Hmmn...This would make a nice conceptual poem, sort of...Make a copy for me, would you?...

Will...

PS... "Thirties?"...I stopped aging at 22, you know...Despite my carefully cultivated air of maturity...

Scrawled across copy left for WW...

Do you want people to know it's you, honey?...I guess your office staff would get a kick out of it...

***
CV of Dr. William Soames Walthrop, W/S Bionetics, Inc...

Prepared for a meeting with members of the Associated European Prothetics Group, Glasgow, Scotland, June 2001...

***
Educated at Cambridge University, Great Britain, Dr. William Soames Walthrop is a partner in one of the world's foremost cybernetic prothetic corporations and one of the developers of the bionetic artificial organ system...Based on a multipurpose general component, the bionetic "cell" these organ systems can be adapted for almost any purpose in the body, much like the living stem cell, and allowing for enormously enhanced adjustment to suit the individual needs of the user...

One might indeed call Bionetics...The Wave of the Future...

After graduation from Cambridge Dr. Walthrop moved to California and began work as an assistant to Dr. Warren Mears, at the time, chief of bionetic research and development at Xortox Labs, Sunnydale, California...

Following their time at Xortox, Dr. Walthrop and Dr. Mears formed a partnership to create W/S Bionetics, Inc...A cybernetics firm specializing in bionetic research...Dedicated to the development of artificial organs and limbs for human use...

("Well?..." Spike asked her...BR frowned...Hmmn...Weell...Not exactly a lie, most of it...In fact only the "graduated from Cambridge" was really a lie...And a necessary one...I guess...And the Council has produced enough documents to back it up if anyone checks...)

***

Very Dark Lady...

Billowing out over the sea cliffs...Her black dress hanging in the air...

She rears up to be greeted...By Death herself...

The sun rises to show her...Gone...Immortal...

Free...

(Hmmn... "I'm 'Death herself'?..." BR asked him...

Allusion...It's an allusion, dear...To the Slayers' Gift...See...

"I know what an allusion is, Spike..." she told him...)
***

Buffies Deux...

Two Buffies strode in a yellow wood and came to a fork in the road...

One chose the right, the other left...

***

The Niblett...

set of course in that series of your author's wild imaginings known as the 'Normal' Bverse...

("Bverse?..." Buffy Rebecca eyed William as she read... "What's that?...Is that what I think it is?..."

Buffyverse, dear...

"Oh..."

Wait a minute... "Stories about my sis?...You've written stories about my sis?...And you?..."

Ummn...Well...You being Buffy too, dear...

"They're really about you..." a bright smile...

"If I read hot sex between you and my twin, you are so beyond Undead..." she grimly fired up the computer...)

***

On an LA weeknight, oh tres dreary...Pondered I, weak and weary...

Just from the battle, besmirched with gore...Dragging my limbs along the floor...

Heard I soft familiar laughing...And a gentle but steady tapping...Rapping on my new apartment door...

"Tis Illyria or Gunn...Or perhaps Angel...To summon me to fight once more...Bugger that, I'll do no more..."

Only this and nothing more...

To said door went I, unclasping...Turning deadbolt with groaning rasping...Rasping?...From my brand-new door?...

Rates a memo to building super sure...

Only this and nothing more...

Flung I the door with certain caution...As in my own blood I was sloshing...

After all, just fought demons galore...

Could be that there was one more...

"Not a thing..." said I, looking...Searchin' round my new apartment door...

Quoth the Niblett... "Bout time you opened the door..."

"Nibs?..." said I, with cheek atremblin'...Lookin' at her glaring, teenaged form...

"What the hell?..." She entered coolly...Glancing round, closing the door...

"Hey, Spike...Or should I say William?...Walthrop, wasn't it your name before?..."

Researched my past thought I, calming...

Only this and nothing more...Hey?...

"Is Buffy with you?...Is she comin'...?"

Quoth the Niblett... "Nevermore..."

"Bloody Christ?!...What the hell is this?!!...Did she send you to piss on me, Niblett?!!!..."

"Tell me, where is Buffy...Is she in LA?...Is she comin'...?..."

Quoth the Niblett... "Nevermore..."

She took a seat and eyed me coolly...As dread crept on me unruly...

"Tell me, Niblett...Tell me truly...As an old friend...Well, in those long-lost times before...When will I see her?..."

"Nevermore..."

"Now, you ruddy well listen, you little fiend from Hades!...I don't know who put you up to this, Harris maybes...But I want an answer so I'll ask once more!...Where the goddamn's your sister...?"

"You mean the one you abandoned?...For evermore...The one who loved you?...And did before?..."

"Before...?"

"When she was the Slayer in 1880, moron...My broken-hearted sis' gone beneath the floor...Cicely that was heretofore..."

"Cicely...?"

"Cicely..." she nodded...Pausing, then said no more...

"Cicely...A Slayer?...But...Nibs, how can you...?"

"The Council's records prove it...Ask Giles to be sure..."

"As to the rest...She is gone and there's no more..."

"Buffy was Cicely?...She truly loved me?...And now has gone to that distant shore...?"

Quoth the Niblett, rising... "That's for sure..."

"But how..." "Despairing of seeing you, making amends...Knowing now what had happened to you before..."

That's what did it, nothing more...

"Nibs!!..." screamed I, in horror reeling...But from current pain would've climbed the ceiling...

"Say a word of comfort...Fore you go out my door...Say I'll yet behold the Buffy I adore..."

"Have you been listenin'?!...Nevermore..."

"So she learned she was my Cicely...Of that you're sure?...Then of grief she died?...You said before...That was it and nothing more?..."

Quoth the Niblett... "That's it, sure..."

Oh...she paused...And just one thing more...

"She'd've lived if you'd've come...Of that we're sure...But you didn't trust her love, so..." Buffy burst right through my door...

"Dawn!...Enough already!...Hurt my Will no more!...Ouch!!..." she stared at my bruises...

Buffy?...stared I back..."Cicely, too...?" Yeah...she nodded... "That part's true..." Frowning... "Sorry, had to be sure...You know you took your time to say 'how-de-do'..."

Feebly I... "Well, you did too..." As she hugged me...Wincing...At my apartment door...

And from me parted...Nevermore...

***

(Hmmn...BR eyed her waiting Walthrop...Methinks I've heard this poem before...

But of that...Eyeing his face so anxious...Well, just love and think no more...

"Just great, babe...Like your others before..." )