A/N: This update is coming one day sooner than usual, because I won't be around tomorrow. My oldest daughter (I have five children) is turning thirteen tomorrow and my husband and I are both taking the day off to take the kids out for a whole day of fun. I can't believe I'm going to be the mother of a teenager! She has been a dream child and a pleasure to raise. Here's hoping that she doesn't get possessed by the teenage angst monster!
Okay, enough of that RL stuff. On to what you clicked this link for. More story. But first, I want to thank my betas for all their help and encouragement. Slaymesoftly and Mabel Marsters are two of the most awesome people I've gotten to know in the fandom and I'm honored to call them my friends. And to all of those who have reviewed: Thanks a ton. I never realized how much a review meant to an author, until I became one.

Soul Survivors

Chapter Fourteen: Poetry in Motion


Buffy gripped Spike’s arm. “Andra is still alive?”

“Andra is no’ alive.” Torch firmly put his glass back on to the table and glared at Buffy. “I took her life over 380 years ago. She’s undead.”

“Where has she been all this time?” Buffy asked in wonder. Why hadn’t she come into the open?

“The night she came back from her watcher’s dwelling, she asked me to take her far away. She was spooked and did say that her unlife was in danger.” He shrugged. “So we moved to Italy for a spell.”

Buffy glanced around the surprisingly quiet bar before staring at Torch again. She felt her first inclination to like the dour vampire sitting across from her. “So you kept her safe and hidden. Where is she now?”

“Don’t know,” Torch answered in a voice devoid of emotion. “I think she’s in London. She stops by to say hello when she comes to town; she was in here a week ago.”

Buffy’s inclination to like him quickly vanished. “You mean you two didn’t stay together?”

“Get awa’ wi’ you. No one could put up with Andra for that long. We lasted three years.”

“What happened?”

“She wanted me on a leash. No killing my victims, and she pushed and nagged for me to go on pig’s blood.” He shrugged again. “I put up with her do-gooder routine for as long as I could stand it and then left her in Rome to come back here.”

“You left her alone?” Spike asked.

“You’ve never met Andra. She doesn’t need anybody. She floats around Europe moving every twenty years or so, so the locals won’t get suspicious when she never ages. She blends in or stays hidden and does her bit to keep crime down. She makes her way back here every now and then and stays for a few years.” He looked up at Spike and smirked. “She’s never gotten over me. When she’s here we shag and fight and have a time together, then she takes off for parts unknown.”

“But she’s here in town, now?”

The prospect of getting to meet the other slayer was exciting.

“Yeah. Can’t say where she’s staying, because I don’t know. When she’s randy, she’ll look me up.”

Buffy groaned. “Why do vampires have to be such pigs?”

Torch snorted. “Why do turned slayers have to be so self righteous?”

Spike chuckled as he wrote something down on a napkin before pushing it at Torch. “That’s where we’re staying. If you see Andra anytime soon, ask her to call on us. It would make Buffy happy.”

“A little advice,” Torch said as they got up to leave. “Stop trying to make the lass happy. You’ll go mad trying and she’ll no’ appreciate it.”

Spike smiled pleasantly. “Thanks for the tip, mate, but I’ve always been love’s bitch. I’m not about to change now.”

Torch grinned back and put the folded napkin in to his shirt pocket. “It’s always the bonnie ones, too. Why can’t we fall for the auld bags? We’d at least be able to think with our brains, then.”


~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Buffy relaxed, reclining across the red couch in the sitting room, with her head on a cushion. She reached out and put the old paper on the coffee table, before grabbing the next one on the pile. It was too early for her to be up, but she hadn’t been able to sleep.

Last night had been a whirlwind of a day and her mind had kept switching from tourist stuff to their conversation with Torch and back again all night. She’d finally given up on the idea of sleep and left Spike to the bed.

On her way out of the room, she’d spied the brown leather bag that held Spike’s poems. She’d been going over the pages for the last hour now and had read them all twice. Buffy grinned at the page in her hand. They weren’t very good, but she had to admire his efforts.

His attempts at poetry seemed to improve once he met Drusilla and that only meant that he’d been a better poet as a vampire than a human. Buffy fingered the rough paper and her smile faded. He must have really loved her; there were so many poems about her. She’d heard him say that he loved her, had watched him act the fool for the crazy vampire, but it really didn’t mean that much to her at the time. They were soulless demons, which she knew now was dumb reasoning. Vampires could and did love. All the time.

She looked over the poem, written in Spike’s neat and tight handwriting, again. All of the poems were written when he was newly turned and he was clearly infatuated with his sire.

Tender
by William the Bloody

She favors the young and tender;
Seeks them out on battered streets of anguish,
Passing up the wrinkled and the worn.

No hardened vein of intuition can call her out.
Her ears prick at the quicker beat,
And she gathers nightly.

So let them free oh, town of London fair,
To roam the foggy streets alone,
For she shall have her fill.

My plum shall surely return to me
With eyes aglow and youth’s radiant smile,
Swaying to unheard melodies.

“I am young and tender, still,”
I’ll call out to her in hopeful adoration.
Hearing, she shall come before me.

We’ll roll and float upon her bed of ease;
The night’s fine take appeasing her,
And rest in peace we shall.

When sunset down has called to us,
Arise and sighing, we animate
To seek the tender among you once again.


There were so many things wrong about the poem. Vampires searching out and killing young children. Ugh! But the lines spoke of the way he worshipped her. Buffy felt the sudden need to smash something. It was a good thing she dusted Dru. Spike was hers now.

She sat up when Giles came out of his room, putting his jacket on and trying to hold onto his bag at the same time.

“On your way out?” she asked.

“Yes. I’m having lunch with my cousin and then we plan to make the last of those visits.”

When they’d come back to the hotel last night, Giles had still been up making notes. He’d given them a brief summary of his progress and it looked good for them. The meeting was set for tomorrow night and they all hoped that word wouldn’t get to Travers before then.

Buffy told him about their meeting with Torch, and he was very surprised to find out that Andra was walking around and in London. The wheels starting turning in his head right away, and he’d suggested that Andra should meet with the watchers, too. It was great evidence to show up with, if what Torch had said was true. If she were still out there hundreds of years later, helping humanity, it would prove that turned slayers did not need to be executed. It was a good idea, but they’d have to find her first.

“Well, have fun,” Buffy told him.

“I didn’t expect you to be up.”

“Couldn’t sleep. I need even less than I did when I was a slayer.”

“Aida is dying to meet you. She’s coming to collect me here. Do you mind if I let her in to say hello?”

The thought of having to meet another watcher was not appealing, but it was Giles’ cousin and she would have to meet with a whole room full of them soon.

She shrugged. “Sure.”

Giles went back in his room for something, so Buffy took the opportunity to gather all the loose papers, carefully putting them back in the leather bag. There was a firm knock on the door and she got up, put the bag by the low table near her bedroom door and opened the front door.

Buffy could not contain the smile. There was no mistaking who the woman standing on the other side of the door was. She invited her in and Aida Giles inched by her, not quite sure if she should trust her or not.

“There you are.” Giles shut his door and grabbed his bag.

Buffy could not believe the resemblance. She knew that the watcher stuff was generational in Giles’ family, but he’d never really mentioned Aida before. She’d seen letters on his desk with her name on the return address, but she’d been too wrapped up in the job and her own teenage angst to ask about Giles’ life.

It was kind of funny how awkward the moment had become. Finally, Giles remembered his manners and introduced them.

“It’s nice to meet you, Buffy. I’ve heard so many good things about you,” Aida said kindly.

“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Giles opened the door. “Well, we’d better go if we are going to make our reservations.” He smiled at Buffy. “What are your plans for tonight?”

Buffy ran a hand through her hair and belatedly realized that she hadn’t brushed it when she woke up earlier. “More sight seeing. Spike and I are going to try to get to the Tower Bridge before they close the tourist stuff.”

“Do wear something warm, dear.” Aida suggested. “It’s been foggy and raining off and on all day.”

She smiled at her and promised to stay bundled up. She wasn’t going to point out that vampires didn’t get cold.

Once she was alone again, she looked around the room, deciding what she should do. She’d never been one to sit still and just watch TV. She thought of Spike sleeping in the other room. She was getting a bit tired. If she went in right now, she’d have a couple of hours to sleep before they had to get up.

The brown leather bag caught her eye as she opened the doors and on impulse, she grabbed it and brought it in with her. The room was dim, with the heavy curtains tightly shut, the quiet hum of electricity the only sound in the room.

She closed the door and quickly shed her clothing, leaving a trail of it that ended with her socks by her side of the bed. She placed the collection of poetry on the end table and quietly slipped under the covers.

Spike was still beside her with his face turned towards her. A few unruly curls had sprung free from the gel in his hair and she longed to reach out and touch them. She told herself that he needed his sleep, so she kept her hands to herself. Even if she couldn’t get back to sleep, at least she could enjoy the view.

His eyes fluttered open and with a sleepy smile, he reached out to her.

“I’m sorry I woke you.”

His smile brightened. “Don’t be. It’s like waking up to heaven when I see you first thing.”

“Well, it’s early still.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“No. I was out in the sitting room reading your poetry when Giles left to have lunch with his cousin.” She paused and smiled. “You won’t believe how much Giles and his cousin look alike.”

Spike propped his head on an elbow. “So, you were reading that drivel that I tried to pass off as poetry?”

“It wasn’t all bad. It was obvious how much in love you were with Drusilla.”

“We can burn those, you know. Or throw them away.” He ran his free hand over her cheek, then through her hair. “They mean nothing to me now.”

She shrugged and kissed his arm. It was hard to think when he was touching her.

“Dru was the first female to ever pay attention to me, and I grabbed on to that and held tight for over a hundred years.” He chuckled. “I used to give you a hard time about how you mooned over Angel, but I was even more pathetic than you.”

She frowned and pushed his hand away. “I can’t argue with you there, but did you just call me pathetic?”

“You were pathetic, but so was I. Now, we’ve both come to our senses, yeah?” She just stared at him, looking bored. “I’m not good with the words, but I think you will agree that I’m very good with the actions.”

A nod was all he got from her.

“Give us a kiss, then.”


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


They did get to the Tower Bridge on time and Spike enjoyed the experience as much as she did. The tour was okay, but getting to stand on the top with her, making out with the misty rain falling on them was just incredible.

He took her around and they saw some of the things they’d missed the night before, but he drew the line at riding one of those double decker buses. It was just public transportation, after all.

Spike planned the sights so they’d end up near the Royal London Hotel. He didn’t try to talk her into going in and he didn’t even know why he felt the need to see it one more time. He’d run out of there one night and straight into the arms of death in the form of Drusilla.

If Buffy noticed his sudden sense of melancholy, she didn’t ask about it, and he was glad. Soon after, he took her to his old place of residence. He pointed at the old building from across the street and told her that that is where he had lived for half of the year, each year of his human life. The other half had been on an estate in the country.

There were lights on, and while the area was no longer the posh section of town, the place looked great to him. Buffy had suggested that they knock on the door and ask to see inside, but he just couldn’t do it. There were plenty of happy memories there, but some very bad ones, too. When he quietly asked if they could leave, Buffy put her hand in his and led them away.

The last stop of the night was to the butcher’s. The shop was closed, but he worked on a lock until it popped open with ease. They slipped inside with Buffy giggling and remarking at how much fun it was. They weren’t even in there for a minute before the alarm bells went off. They rushed around and grabbed as much pig’s blood as they could and took off just as the police arrived.

There was a chase, but the two overly fed men where no match for two highly motivated vampires. Spike opened one of the containers and held on to it as it leaked a trail of blood along a path. He tossed the container and they raced in another direction. It was a great diversion, even if the police only stopped to look at the stains on the pavement for just a few seconds. By the time they gave chase again, Buffy and Spike were long gone.

Buffy ran ahead of him and he couldn’t help but think that she was poetry in motion. They kept running until they got to the hotel where they solemnly made their way past the watchful eyes of the hotel staff. They had to share the elevator ride to their floor, but once they got into their hotel room, they fell on each other laughing.