"Spring Will Be A Little Late This Year..."

"Spring Will Be A Little Late This Year..." Parts I, II...

"Spring Will Be A Little Late This Year…”

Summary: In the last days of 1880, betrayal and tragedy have their way with Cicely the Vampire Slayer. 

("But Cicely wasn't...And Halfreck.” Now, now Joss never confirmed that Cicely wasn't or that Haly was.  Besides you're in the Cicelyverse AU now.  And to read up on how Haly took Cicely's form that night, the plot against William, etc.  Go to the Cicelyverse page of the Buffy Rebecca verse )

Disclaimer: Joss, you left the gap, I exploit it.  But the Buffy stuff's all yours and ME's. 

Archived at the Buffy Rebecca verse

Part I. 

"Jan-u-ar-y and Feb-ru-ar-y were nev-er so emp-ty and gray

Tragically I feel like crying

"Without you, my darling, I'm dying."

But let's rather put it this way:

Spring will be.   a little late this year,

A lit-tle late.  ar-riv-ing in my lone-ly world o-ver here

For you have left me, and where is our April of old?

You have left me, and winter continues cold,

As if.  to say.  Spring will be a lit-tle slow to start,

A little slow.  reviving music it made in my heart.

Yes, time heals all things, so I needn't cling to fear,

It's merely.  that spring will be a little late this year."

London.  Evening, late November 1880. 

The grand hall of the Antiquarian Hall of the Royal Society of Antiquarians and Librarians. 

Chairman of the Society.  Council of Watchers to those present or otherwise in the know.  Arthur Rathskeller, a slight but resolute-looking man of sixty, with greying hair, stood at the podium.  Awaiting the securing of the hall doors for this most secret of sessions.  Eyeing the sea of faces before him.  Mostly male, but including some females.  But for his strong bearing, he every inch the stereotypic image of a scholar who spent his days lost among tales and legends of the past.  Excepting also perhaps the weary yet firm set of the eyes.  Eyes which had seen far too much in his varied career. 

A career now closing. 

Beside him on the platform, his close friend and field Watcher to the current Slayer, Simon Farris.  White-haired, but vigorous, in his late fifties.  Tall with quick yet always controlled movements.  A grim and sober cast to his features.  As befitting both the current critical situation and the heavy charge about to be placed upon his shoulders.