Fic: "Twilight for Anonymous..." Part II...

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"Twilight for Anonymous…"

Disclaimer: Not mine but thine...O, Joss!

Archived at the Cicelyverse page of the Buffy Rebecca verse,
www.buffyrebecca.com/Cicelypg.html or direct to story at http:/
www.buffyrebecca.com/tfa.html...

General audience level...

Summary: In a past life of Buffy and William, a certain story- and
scene-stealing vampire gets his much-deserved desserts…

Part II..

London…

City lodgings of a certain famed playwright…Currently indisposed…

Anne Shakespeare, striding rather fiercely…Stake in hand…As Ben
Jonson, having followed her at her "request" watches her from a stool…
Occasionally eyeing the currently indisposed William, still bound and
trussed in chair…

"It's the cause…It is the cause…Name it not, will I, bein' a good wife
and mother…" she pauses, eyeing William in his chair…

Hmmn…He eyes her back…

You know, that rather makes for a nice scene there, with the pacing
and touch of a frenzied…

"…Nor in front of company…" she frowns at Jonson…

Hey…You brought me here, lass…

"…If I ever thought…" she glares at Will… "Any of them tales were true…
About those women…"

Lord…Burbage's been shooting his mouth off again…Will sighs inwardly…

Tries soulfully innocently look…Annie…

"Anyway…" she nervously waves… "We've more to concern with here…How
could you be lettin' some twit noble be stealin' your work and passin'
it as his own, Will?..."

Think of the family in any case…Our girls…Little Hamnet…The potential
loss of all their future hopes…

"Will?...A man like Oxford?...You'd let him lay claim to your
work?..." she fumes…

Hmmn?...He tries exaggerated puzzled stare…

Oxford?...Steal…?

"Everyone in Strafford's heard tell of the claims…It's humiliatin',
Will…Why else…Apart from missin' ye (and the natural desire to be sure
me London-based spouse is really spendin' 24/7 on nothing but the
family business during the theatrical season)…Would I be spendin' the
dear moneys for such a trip…Leavin' our girls with me parents…
Abandoning the Hellmouth of Strat…"

Ummn…She pauses, blinking at the puzzled Jonson…

"…abandoning them to the hell of Strafford, alone…" she lamely and
hastily corrects… "Unless it was so dire for the family cause…What
were ye thinkin', William?..."

Well?...She eyes him…

Oh, right…Pulling cloth from mouth…

"Sorry…But what be ye thinkin' Will?...What moneys could he offer so
worth giving away yer birthright…?"

And if ye have a figure, lets have it…With breakdown of all costs to
be met, includin' Hamnet's tuition at Cambridge…She eyes him with
frown…

"Anne…" William gasped, a bit out of breath… "I've not…"

"No?..." she eyes him…Beaming look… "Not betrayed me with the easy-
virtued ladies of London and yer own foul stage?...Or not sold our
future?...Or…(even better)…Both?…"
Hmmn…Well…Definitely not #2 but as to #1?...

Still, no need to get bogged down in detail…

"Uh, no…Dear…" he replies…

Which said, could naturally cover either/or…

She eyes him squarely… "Truly?..."

"I've never sold Oxford anything but that little sonnet…"

Frown…Boy, you know damned well that wasn't the question I had in
mind…

Still, the practical must take precedence here…

"Right then…I've need to speak a word in the ear of one Edward Dever
then…"

"DeVere…" Jonson, helpfully…

"Whatever…"

"Ben?..." Shakespeare looks over… "Why the devil are you here?..."

"Why who else would dear Anne turn to in the circumstance?..." Jonson,
snidely… "You being occupied…"

Will eyeing a now somewhat-tables-turned Anne…She, a sheepish
expression…Ummn…

"Man does know about me other profession, Will…" she tries…

"Exactly…" Ben, smugly…

"No reason to bring him along to see me trussed like a goose…Or a
patient for the stone cut…" Will, frowning…

"He'll say naught…If he knows what's best for him…" Anne, grim nod…

"Already forgotten, friends…" Ben, spreading hands, benevolent smile…

"But as to Oxford…I don't think Anne should be charging in to threaten
him…He's a powerful man with connections at Court…"

"Connections of dubious worth now…" Will notes…

"Queen still loves Essex like the idiot son she (probably) never had
with Dudley…" Jonson shakes head… "She'll not tolerate his friends
abused by the ordinary folk…However extra-ordinary they may be…" he
adds hastily to Anne's glare…

"What?..." Anne stares… "Is he in trouble with the Court now as
well?..."

Just what we need…The family business shut down because some fool
drags our work into his mud…

"They say…And 'they' are pretty well placed to know…" Will notes…
"That he and Essex are up to no good…Trying to gain sole access to the
Queen, possibly even more…"

"More?...How much more…?"

Jonson portrays chopping of head with head… "That much more, if
they're caught…"

"Holy Jesus…" Anne crosses herself… "Will, what have you got us mixed
up in?..."

"Me…?" Shakespeare blinks…

Say could you?...He holds up bound hands…Really can't express the
emotion without the hands…

She frowns, but undoes rope…

"As I say…I've done nothing of the sort…Sweetheart, you know I'm not
political, excepting of course…"

"Will!..." Anne, hastily…

Since they know I know about the Undead killin' thing and all that,
I'd guess it's the closet Catholicism she's in a dither about…Jonson
thinks, watching contentedly…

All grist to me mill, that's for sure…

"…Well, I'm not political…I've done nothing for or with Oxford to give
cause for the Court to be angry with me…No more have I done for you,
girl…" solemnly innocent look…

"I'm sure I'm wantin' to believe that, William Shakespeare…" she
begins…

A sharp knock at the door to the rooms catching her in mid-
chastisement…

***

Wardrobe room of the Chamberlain's Men at the Globe Theater, Southwark
district of London…

"Tis fine stiching…Here…" toss of coin, caught in mid-air…

Quick bite of said coin…Ah, the real thing…Warm smile…

"Thanks for your custom, Master Hemings…" hasty pocketing of coin…

"Miss Jenkins…" Hemings, bow with flourish suiting a lead actor of the
company…

Anya Jenkins, seamstress to the company, a position secured by both
her talent and her friendship with Anne Shakespeare, nodding in
return…

"Wilt it be Sir John for you this next time?..." she asked…Hemings
shrugging…

"Lord knows lass…But our Will is at work on something…Hope it's more
of Falstaff…That fat knight is a sure box office draw…Still, with
Master Shakespeare, who knows…He's been getting' temperamental of late…
Wantin' to do more in the line of Art I hear…"

"I'd thought he'd done such…" she blinked… "That last one with the
Italian kids was simply beautiful…"

"One might've hoped the lad would've purged such sentiments from his
system with that…" Hemings sighed… "He's a practical man generally, is
our Will, but the craze for his stuff may be going to his head…He
talks till one might be tempted to go drown oneself in a butt of wine
about the need to 'go further'…Further, he says…As if we've put all
thought of profit and security to rest and have sacks of gold and
silver in the cellar to allow us indulgence of any whim we so desire…"

"Still, the man is a genius, John…" Anya noted…

"So he tells us…Constantly…Though…" smile… "A bird or two have said…
Confidentially…
That all his inspiration comes from other sources than the bottle…"

"I should hope so…" Anya, frowning… "Wait?...You're not giving
precedence to the rumors about someone else…?"

"And kill the goose before the eggs is laid?...Girl, give me credit…"
Hemings frowned… "I'll just be sayin' there are…Rumors…"

"Well, I'm not believin' 'em…And if you know what's best for you, John
Hemings…"

He put up his hands in a peaceful gesture…Lass…

"I've no wish to see such tales spread…I'm merely sayin'…Where there
be smoke…

Sometimes…There be...A fellow puffin' on the Indian pipe…"

She shook her head…Hemings, grinning, turned and left…

Hmmn…She sighed…

Well, not my job to dispel rumors about the authenticity of Mr. Will
Shakespeare's works…
In fact, rather more my job to encourage such, I suppose…

Though, I am here for now merely as an observer…D-H having been clear
on the set-up of

Mr. J's revenge portfolio…No action till 1858 when Mr. Shakespeare's
reincarnated self takes the earthly field…

Just have to see no one gives warning…Say some victim of Mrs. S's
stake with a desire to win points with the Slayer by alerting her…Or
some well-meaning psychic or soothsayer…

One can't be too careful in a long-term project like this…

I mean Livia's vengeance scheme for the Roman Empire took nearly 1500
years to bring to fruition…With plenty of opportunity to throw the
whole thing off-track…

Seems a shame though about these rumors…Denying poor Will his just due
as a great author and handing the laurel to some jerk with a fancy old
name…Not to mention it could lessen the effect of our own scheme…I
mean if he never becomes the world's most famous
author, what's so bad about being reborn as the world's worst poet…

And the current seeker for the mantle…That dork DeVere…

Slimy little wuss with that phony soulful manner…Well, he'd best never
let Annie catch up with him…That glam of his will never fool a Slayer
as capable as she…

"Seamstress!..."

"Comin', Mr. Burbage…!" she called…