Fic: "Twillight for Anonymous..." Part IV...

[reg...@aol.com]

"Twilight for Anonymous…"

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

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

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 IV…

Secret favored den of London's more savory underdwellers…Allowed some
protection as neutral ground by the Royal Council of Antiquarians and
Scholars and their current Slayer for professed non-violent
underdwellers as inducement for such behavior…Officially…

Unofficially maintained solely for intelligence purposes…By the
agreement of both sides for mutual benefit…Presided over by Willam
Flitch, alias Willie the Snitch, famed half-demon tavern keeper to
questionable clientele, fence (sir, that word), all-around "fixer" for
London's underworld, both human and in-…Suspected by all sides, hired
by all, trusted by none…

Said Willie currently attempting to preserve neutrality in negotiation
with the said Slayer, Anne Hathaway Shakespeare…Whose request for
political information on two famed…And infamous…Noblemen…Seemed to
trouble the Snitch a bit…

Though it was hardly unusual for a fellow of Willie's talents and
connections throughout London to be approached on what seemed strictly
a human affair, she noted quietly…

"Is there more to these two gents than meets the living eye…
Willie?..." she asked as he hesitated…

Ummn…

"No…Not that I've heard…" Willie lied carefully… "But they are two of
the most powerful and hot-headed nobles in England…Everybody remembers
what they did to that poor Jewish doc of the Queen's?...Why shouldn't
I worry?...Especially with that crazy James up in Scotland killing
Wiccans right and left and likely to take the throne after good Queen
Eliza passes…And those two are said to be in cahoots with James…And
plottin' after the queen in some way to possibly hurry things along…
Whether they went after me as an otherworlder, or I get painted with
their treason, I'd pay quite a price, Slayer, even incidentially…"

"William…You lie like your namesake, my husband…Badly…Are they
vamps?...Demons?...Or what?..." she frowned…

"If they were, would they tell the likes of me?...Slayer, come on…"

"They wouldn't have to tell you, William…" she smiled at him… "You'd
know…I have faith in my Snitch…Come, tell Annie all…"

You know you don't want to get me angry and all…Her sweetly demure
look said…

He sighed…

"What?...Are you afraid of a couple of noble Undeads?...Willie?...You
know I'd protect you…When has Annie ever failed you?..."

He frowned… "Two months ago…And you might remember I nearly got killed
over it…"

"And how was I to know they could rise a second time?...I rely on you
for information, you know…"

Watcher…Her look said, without word…

God…His look back, involuntary slight hand wave…Never even look that
word…

As if I ever wanted that job…Lord God…

As if it twere my fault Marlowe got killed here…And you promised it
was only till the Council sent a real Watcher…That was back in 1593,
for Christ's sake…

Not to mention I've never been paid…Except what you let me keep from
Marlowe's person to pay his score…And it's not like your Council isn't
based here in London…

And they sure keep sending me demands for reports…As if I'm some kind
of scholar, let alone a writer…

Though it is nice when your Will edits my stuff…Even I can tell it's
good and it's nice to be published…Even if only in the Watcher annals…

"There's also the question of who's up to stealin' credit for
William's works…I've reason to believe it's DeVere…I need you to
confirm that…" she eyed him…

He frowned…Slayer…

"Threat…" he hissed…

Ah, right…Can't let my little fellow's rep be besmirched…

"I want information Willie and I know you can get it for me…" she
raised her voice…

"Maybe on that…For the right price…I've heard a few things to the
effect…"

And I mean it on the coin this time…He regarded her sternly…

"I'd expect so…Lets hear what you got…" she rose…

Slayer…You wait for me to suggest the back room…He frowned…Sighed…
Well…

"All right, all right, but in the back room…Not here…" he rose…

"That's more like it, lad…" she nodded…Following after him…

Hector at the tavern's hidden door frowning at them…

The wuss brother-in-law caves again…

Still, suppose I'd do the like if she put the stake to me throat…

And at least he don't do the bowin', scrapin', cringin' with fear in
front of the clientele…

Essex House, London…

Essex glaring…

The idea…His sense of propriety solely troubled…He fumed at DeVere's
returned messenger…

"He'll get it to us tomorrow?...You mean he's not to come?...The
peasant swine!..." slap of aggravated hand to sword hilt…Angry pull at
moustache…

"Robert…" DeVere sighed from his chair, pouring himself a glass of
wine…Laced with something a bit more suitable to his nutritional
needs… "I told you he's a busy man…Of great fame in the world…Bella,
girl…" he signaled to a wan-looking, dark-haired maid in corner to
take the decanter…Essex eyeing the bottle in the girl's hand briefly…

No, never cared much for Edward's special vintage…I'll stick with my
own…He signaled to the girl to pour him a glass from the decanter on
the table before him…Turning back to DeVere…

"For writing plays for the mob?...Nonsense…You or I could write better
on any day…" Taking glass from the maid who curtsied and left…

So I hope to be told throughout the next centuries…Edward thought,
smugly…

Acing Immortality on two levels…The physical and the intellectual…
Hearing my name praised eternally…

Really is amazing just how good that little fellow from Stratford is…I
perhaps the first to recognize just what we all are dealing with here…
A world-changing genius…A mere mortal who can breathe immortal life
into characters on a printed page unlike any but a handful of
predecessors…Homer, the authors of the Bible, possibly Vergil…

"No peasant makes me wait on him…Go, you rogue…" Essex turned to the
nervously waiting messenger, sweat visible on his perfumed brow… "And
tell this 'Shakescene' that Lord Essex commands his immediate
presence…!"

The messenger eyed DeVere…

"Robert…" DeVere put up a hand… "The man is doing the work…He requires
his own place to work in…It's not an insult, I assure you…He is doing
the work?..." he eyed the messenger…

"So the girl told me…He was not present but she assured me…"

DeVere's turn to frown… Fellow…

"I do believe I told you to be sure and secure his personal promise to
finish by tomorrow…A great deal hinges on that…"

Tremor causing ruffs to shake…

"My Lord, I am certain she will pass all on to…"

"Now we don't even deal with the man…We plead our case with his
serving wenches?..." Essex stalked the room, fuming…Pausing to round
on the messenger, slamming cup on table…DeVere eyeing table…That's
sure to leave a mark on a table I've kept for three hundred years…
"You fool!..." Essex ranted at the rather crushed man… "Don't you know
our lives…Our very lives, fool!…Depend on this?...And I assure you, I
will see to it myself that your life is forfeit should we fail because
of this…"

"Please, Robert…" Edward sighed… "Milner will go back and get Master
Shakespeare's personal…Personal…Assurance, will you not, Milner?...As
to this matter…"

Icy look at the hapless Milner…

Lord, Essex is frightening enough, but sometimes for all his charm, my
Lord Oxford is just…Satan himself…

Which doth have its unique allure, at times…Calmer times…

"Yes, of course, my Lord…I'll go at once…"

"Excellent…" DeVere raised a hand… "That will do, have Bella summon a
carriage and go now…"

Milner hurried for the door…Essex red-facedly glaring him out…

"A fool to entrust with such a commission…" he frowned…

"Now, Robert…" DeVere, soothingly… "Milner's a good man, he just
didn't see the urgency…Besides, I'm sure Shakespeare would never take
a commission from me or you and especially both of us, casually…I've
no doubt Milner will find him hard at it and it will be with us on
time…He's never failed me yet…We must not let ourselves lose our heads
at any time in this matter…It's no time for emotion…My good Essex…
Essex…Our friends need to see resolute determination and a steady
hand…"

"Well…" Essex, calming… "I suppose there's no harm in it…So long as
the man finishes in time…But, Edward…" he took a seat in a large
chair…

Nice…Rather like the throne I shall soon find myself in…

As the Queen's declared regent for her last years, of course…Oh, heavy
burden, but one I shall do my utmost to live up to…

And should England care to grace my services by elevating me in place
of a Scottish foreigner when the time comes that our dear Queen
departs for her heavenly reward…Who am I to deny my responsibilities
to the Nation…?

"…Couldn't you have simply written the parts in?...Knowing your talent
and ability, who needs this silly playwright…" he eyed Edward…

"There's no written copy of the manuscript available to me, Robert…
Except lines given to actors in dribs and drabs which I've obtained
from my patronage…Master Shakespeare likes to keep his work to
himself, generally, unlike say, Mr. Jonson…"

"Really?...Difficult to steal, eh?...But I should think it would then
be hard for him to keep the credit…If his work is as good as the vox
populi and you and some of ours claim…"

Exactly…DeVere, faint smile…

"I suppose so…" he gave a slight sigh… "Tis a pity, really…The man is
likely to be forgotten with his death if he takes no care to have his
work published and credited…"

"Then you've just done him a grand favor, ordering a fair copy of the
work…" Essex noted… "I hope the fellow will be properly grateful…"

One could say so…If I were planning to give him credit…

"Well, given the purpose…I suspect it will be best not to let his name
grace the work…As a kindness to him, until we succeed, when of course
we can give credit where credit be due…" DeVere, innocently…

"I'd thought to have the author, Anonymous…" he smiled…

Essex shrugged… "As you wish…Though I see no reason to protect the
fellow…"

Some might call it that… DeVere, smiling…

But the "protection" may be a two-edged sword when Master William
Shakespeare has outlived his usefulness…

Still, he will have the honor of having ghost-written the works of
Edward DeVere, Earl of Oxford, greatest playwright…Greatest writer, no
less…In English history…

And here, my poor Robert plays a foolish game for the mere and
momentary shadow of power…He eyed Essex…This, boy, is true power…Power
that will reshape Humanity and the world…Immortal power…Such as even
the greatest of past Immortals (well, would-be but for the Slayer,
Immortals) has never won…And win or lose, your pitiful bid merely the
cover…