Old BtVS Fics, Part 1
Sep. 26th, 2022 08:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apachefirecatA God Who Cares, posted 6-13-13, rated T/PG-13
Characters: Giles/Buffy
Giles believes there must be a God who cares.
He bows his head every night, never once forgetting the danger to which his dearest friend is about to open herself. She's come back from the dead twice now for him, but he still can't help feeling nervous when she goes out for patrol. He remembers sending her so often when she was younger and didn't want to go, but now a part of him almost wants to ask her to stay and let some one else do the slaying.
He knows that that desire is juvenile and ridiculous. He knows they have both been called for their duties and must fulfill them. He knows that, no matter how many potentials are called by Willow's spell, Buffy is still the first Slayer and, thereby, must face the greatest dangers. He knows that, though she ran from her duty when she was younger, she now would have it no other way.
He knows it's selfish of him to want to protect her as desperately as he does. It was selfish of them to call her back from beyond the grave and more selfish still to try to keep her from her destiny. His relationship with her, he thinks, looking back, has almost always been affected by some degree of selfishness.
First, he wanted to enforce her duty upon her as his had been done to him. In those times, he rarely thought about just how much danger into which he was placing her. Her calling, after all, was that of the Slayer. It was her place to fight the Vampires so that others could live, her place to die to save innocents if and when it came to that, and yet when it had, he had been ready to do anything he could to keep her alive.
Even that had been selfish. He hadn't wanted to face the inevitable guilt that would have come over him had he sent her to an early grave, but it had been more than that, too, he reflects as Buffy leans up on her tip toes and kisses him. It had been so much more. He hadn't wanted to face life without her in it, and he still doesn't. He never will.
He grips a little too hard as they kiss good night. He wants to go with her, but he has others to train now. He can not defer their training entirely to Willow and Xander, no matter how much he would like to. He was there for her, and she's already told him that she wants him to be here now for the young Slayers. They need the best Watcher they can get, she tells him, and the best training; he is the first and provides the second, she thinks, with ease.
But what she doesn't know, what he won't tell her, is that he wants to do just the opposite. He wants to take her away from this world, to steal her away from her calling, away from both their duties, and run. He doesn't want to lose her again; his heart can barely stand the thought of her dying a third time.
Yet he should not have allowed Willow to bring her back. He should have let her stay there. They all should have let her stay in Heaven, in rest, in peace, in safety, but they were greedy. They wanted her. They wanted her friendship, her light shining in the dark world that had threatened to overcome them all in her absence. They could not let go. They could not release her, regardless of how much good it did her to be where she had been and how justly she had deserved to rest.
He wants to tell her he's sorry still every time her big, blue eyes look up through his spectacles and into his soul. He wants to grovel at her feet, to beg her forgiveness, and yet, she's already given it to him. Like the young woman always thinking of others before herself whom she has become, Buffy gave him the forgiveness he could not verbally request long ago. She forgave him, but Rupert knows he'll never forgive himself.
He'll never forgive himself for calling her back to this life where she has to lay her life on the line every night of their lives. He'll never forgive himself for placing her in as much danger as he still constantly does, and he most certainly will not forgive himself for letting her die not once but twice. He knows he's a wicked man.
A part of him feels dirty every time she caresses him, and yet, he can not stop. He can not stop putting her into danger or leaning upon her for all his earthly needs. He can not stop wanting her, aching, every time they part, to feel her caress, to taste her sweet lips, or to just see her again. He can not stop the pride from swelling within him when she looks at him so trustworthy, and yet he also can not help but to wonder how she can still trust him after all he has done and everything he has allowed to happen to her.
It's his fault she died. It's his fault that she was brought back, that she was stolen away from the Heaven which she deserves. It's his fault that she's suffered so many heartaches, endured so much punishment, and watched so many innocents die. It's his fault that her life is not better than it is.
She tried to tell him all those years ago in the school library. She tried to tell him that she was done with slaying, that she did not care if Vampires ruled the world or who they killed. She tried to turn her back on her job, and Heaven help him, he should have let her. He should have packed up all of his books and returned to England or gone somewhere at least, somewhere far away from her so that she could live her own life, have her own happiness, and not have to endure so much heartache.
Not have to endure him and the punishments he enlists upon her. "Giles?" He blinks, realizing at last that she's been talking all this time that he's been lost in his thoughts of self condemnation and guilt. "Stop," Buffy says sternly, and he looks at her, really looks at her for the first time that night. She wraps her arms around him, holds close to him, and gazes up pass his glasses into his soul as she alone possesses the uncanny ability to do with ease. "Stop beating yourself up."
"I . . . "
He starts to speak in his defense, but she shakes her head. "I know what you're thinking. You think it every night. You need to get some new thoughts, really. Think about me, in the morning, in the shower, just the two of us, hot and sweaty and getting clean and have fun." She grins as he swallows hard, the image her words have painted in both their minds stealing away his breath along with what pride he'd had left.
She leans up on her tip toes and hugs him more tightly. "You're not forcing anything on me, Giles. This is the life I want. You're the man I want." She kisses him long and deep before slowly releasing him and turning away.
"Bu-Buffy . . . "
She turns back with a bold grin as he stammers her name. "It's all right, Giles. I'll be back before sunrise; I just gotta go stake those Vamps." She rolls her eyes just like she used to do at him all those years ago. "Really, you'd think they'd get smarter by now and stop trying to gain force where we Slayers are." Her gaze softens as her eyes meet his again. "I'll be fine, really," she persists. "You're barely have time to miss me."
Then she's gone, running off into the night to meet with Faith, Angel, and Spike and leaving Giles' mouth hanging still partially open in a plea which he will not voice. It's the same plea that she didn't want to hear, with which she did not want to argue and so left before she could hear it. They know what she must do. It's the same time she had to do all those years ago, but yet instead of getting easier, watching her go running off into known danger only gets harder with each passing night.
Giles touches the cross around his neck, a cross she once wore, and then bows his head just as he did all those years ago. He speaks the same prayer he always has since first sending her into danger, "Dear God, help us. Help us all. Help her. Bring her back alive."
He used to wonder why he bothered, but now he knows. Somehow, it seems to work. Somehow, even though he had stopped long ago believing in a God who really cared, God does seem to care, at least for Buffy. He keeps her alive, and every time she dies, He lets them bring her back. He lets her live again for He knows the world needs her. They need her.
Most of all, Giles needs her, and along with his prayer for her safety, he says another prayer, a prayer of thanks for lack of condemnation and for second chances that keep coming. He loves Buffy, truly loves her far beyond any love he's ever felt for any one before, and she does seem to love him, too. That love, though he still fears it wrong at times, continues to bless them, and she continues to come home every morning to him.
He doesn't know if it's wrong or right. He fears he never will, but when she kisses him like she did scant minutes before, Giles finds still that, no matter how hard he tries to, he no longer cares. He loves her, she loves him, and as long as God keeps her returning to him, he'll keep believing in Him, in a God that does care for His people and wants them to be happy, in a God who still loves despite all the wrongs they've committed, in a God who does love him, who must love him, because He still gives him his Buffy every day.
The End
A Magical Woman, posted 8-17-13, rated K+/PG
Characters: Willow/Tara, Willow/Kennedy
Tara was a magical woman.
"She must've been one heck of a woman," Kennedy whispers long after she's thought Willow asleep down on the floor, where she persisted in staying despite their union. Kennedy had tried to persuade her that she would not try anything while she slept. She'd promised to behave herself and even offered to take the floor herself, but Willow, always the chivalrous one, had determinedly refused all her efforts to give her a softer bed.
Now, the potential Slayer stills as she hears Willow whisper in reply, "She was magical." Willow smiles sadly as she remembers her first female love. She can still see her smile and the way her eyes glowed and sparkled with her happiness when they were together. She's never seen anything more beautiful than her cherished Tara and knows she never will again. The blonde Witch brought out the absolute best in her while making her constantly feel as if they were floating, even when her feet were planted firmly on the ground. She truly was magical.
Kenn closes her eyes in the inky darkness. She should have kept her mouth shut. She should have known Willow would still be laying awake, although they'd not slept a wink the night before. They had shared their first kiss the previous evening, but what had began with something more wonderful than any fairy tale magic had quickly led them into a nightmare. She didn't regret kissing Willow, - she wouldn't have even if she'd still been trapped as Warren -, but she was sorry for the pain it had caused her. "I-I'm sorry," she whispers, hating the way her voice creaks as she wonders if she can ever truly have Willow's love.
Will wants to say the same words not to her but to her true love. She still wants to beg Tara's forgiveness for finding interest in another woman, but then a breeze blows through the room. Willow shivers in a familiar way as the cool air caresses her. It feels like hands cupping her face, and then she understands why as Tara's voice whispers to her, "It's okay."
That's all it takes for the tears to start spilling down the redhead's face again. "She is," she whispers.
Kennedy slips from Willow's bed in instant concern. "Will," she questions, "are you crying?"
"Y-Yes."
Kennedy lays down on the floor beside her. Willow doesn't fight as she takes her into her arms and comforts her, kissing her forehead and smoothing her hair with her fingers, but it is a while before she speaks again. "She knows about us."
Kennedy stiffens and looks wildly around them. It doesn't help that the clock's glowing letters confirms that they're in the middle of the midnight hour. She wonders if she needs to fear a ghost now, on top of everything else.
"She knows," Willow continues, her voice and body trembling slightly, "and she gives her okay." More tears spill from her eyes. "Oh, baby," she whispers.
Kennedy's no longer sure rather Willow's talking to her or Tara, but it doesn't really matter. Although she'll never know her, Tara has given her the best gift ever by granting her permission for them to explore their budding feelings. Kennedy knows Willow would have eventually pulled back away from her otherwise, but now that Tara says it's okay, it will finally be okay with Willow, as well. They will be okay.
"Thank you," she whispers as Willow cries her joy. She kisses her forehead again. "Thank you," she repeats and takes another kiss while smiling broadly. "You really were a great woman."
"No," Willow says, shaking her head, "a magical one."
Kennedy doesn't understand why Willow's so determined over the word choice, but she relents with a nod. "A magical woman," she agrees, and then she realizes she must have been to have given her her magical woman. "Thank you," she says one last time and kisses Willow through the night.
The End
A Monster Incapable of Love, posted 4-19-17, rated K+/PG
Characters: Spike/Drusilla
He swore he'd love her forever.
She was muttering about the stars again tonight when he left, Spike reflects sourly as he jumps down from a wall and continues along his walk. The tails of his leather trench coat flap around his legs. Usually, on a night like tonight, when he can sense the power in the Earth around him, he'd be working on his schemes in his head while enjoying being the Big Bad where all can see his actions and tremble before him.
All but two. Angel and the Slayer still haven't learned to tremble before him, but they will. He's going to defeat them and turn this entire town into a playground for his Princess. He only wishes she could stop looking at the stars so much and listening to them more than she hears him. Even more aggravating is the fact that she's been whispering more to her doll lately than she talks to him. She actually giggled at something she thought Miss Edith said tonight. Whatever it was, he's quite certain it was about him.
But she isn't well, Spike reminds himself again. He has to have patience and understanding with her. Just because he's the worst Big Bad this little Helltown has ever seen doesn't mean he has to be cruel to the woman he loves. It's the world that's meant to bow down before them. He doesn't want to harm Dru or hurt her in any way, and she has no idea that she hurts him when she whispers about him with her dolly and to the stars.
He shouldn't even be bothered by it. This isn't the first time he's given himself this stern reminder, nor is it the first time it hasn't worked. Rather he should be bothered by it or not, Dru's whisperings about him and laughter at him still burns a part of him deep down. It reminds him too much of when he was a pathetic human and his whole village laughed at him. His hands grip into fists as he remembers their screams. He made everybody who laughed at him once scream his name in their final throes of death. They never learned to like him, but they did learn to fear him.
But fear's never been enough for him. It was for Angelus and for Darla. Dru sings songs about the whole world fearing them, and the visions see sees as she sings always seem to bring her joy. As a human, Spike had dreamed of love and of doing things greater than he could ever accomplish by himself. Even now, he still dreams of love.
He does more than dream of love, he tells himself. He has love. Drusilla loves him! Then why does she whisper about him? he asks himself. Why does she want him to serve the world to her on a silver platter while giving him so little in return? Why did she used to laugh when Angelus tormented him and still longs so openly sometimes for daddy? Why does she think she exchanges whispered conversations with Miss Edith about his failures? Because, he tells himself again, she isn't right. She's sick. His Princess is sick, and the darkness in her mind isn't staying there. It's beginning to sink into her very soul.
He's seen it himself. That's why she looks at him so sorrowfully sometimes. It's why she thinks he's going to leave her one night. One night, he'll get fed up with the way her sickness makes her behavior, and he'll leave her - or so she believes, so she herself fears. But he knows himself better than any one. He'll never walk out on Dru. She's his Princess, and he'll always strive to make her happy. She might not be able to love him only just yet, but he already loves her. She's the love for whom he spent his whole human life searching.
She's the one. He'll never leave her. He'll never desert her. Bloody Hell, he even saved the world for her! And he knows already he'll do it again. He'll save it again and again, however many times it takes, just to make certain she's safe. He'll do anything for his Princess, even endure the words she whispers about him when she forgets he can hear her. Or maybe she knows he can hear her and just doesn't have the wits to care.
But one night . . . One night, he'll find a way to make her well. He'll heal her, and she'll finally see what he's been doing for her all this time. She'll finally see she's the reason for their move here, for his countless fights with the Slayer and all the hours he spends studying her every move. She'll finally see that everything he does is for her. He didn't save the world because he's going soft. He saved it, because she's a part of it and saving it also saved her, even if for just a little while longer.
Spike sighs, remembering the way he caught Angel cuddling the Slayer earlier. They hold to one another like they're in some kind of bloody play about lovers, but this is the real world. Their love won't last long. Already the Slayer's beginning to realize that he and Dru share something that she can never have. He heard her mutter about it the very night he helped her save the world. When she last saw him during that time, he heard her talk to herself about how great his love for Drusilla is. He smirks. It's just his luck that the Slayer can see it but the woman he loves, his cherished Princess, can not.
Spike's almost back home when he stops, suddenly realizing that he's coming home empty handed. He swipes at a bruise Angel left on his forehead. The bastard got a lucky punch in just as he was defending himself against his woman. Two against one has never been fair, but then Angel, even as a disgusting hero, has never truly played fair. Dru will be upset though if he comes home empty handed and may well think even less of him or, worse, talk to her doll more about his shortcomings.
Spike returns to the wall surrounding the cemetery. He doesn't have long to wait before a young couple comes walking by. He drops down before them snarling. Both teenagers scream, but it's the boy who turns tail and starts to run. Spike shakes his head. "Pathetic," he growls before knocking both of them unconscious. He takes the boy's blood on the spot but carries the girl home to his Princess.
The guy is like most humans, he thinks, and too many men of all species. He left his woman without a thought, thinking only of saving his own hide. Spike could be like that. He could leave his Princess as she claims the stars warn her he will. He could leave her to fend for her own self and to die in the Slayer's hands. Almost any female Vampire or Demon would join him at this time, but he doesn't want any of them. Even as a Vampire, he's always been a one-woman-only kind of bloke.
"Spikey's home, Princess!" he calls out as he enters their hideaway. Some of his minions look at him, but one glower from his furious eyes shuts them all down before they dare to speak one word. He's not a typical Vampire. A typical Vampire - a typical bloke even - would have left Drusilla long ago, but he's better than that. He's better than any of them know.
"I'm home, pet, and I've brought you a gift," he calls again, slipping into the familiar, welcoming shadows of the boudoir he shares with his Princess. She looks up at him from where she's combing Miss Edith's hair with her long, delicate fingers. He throws the teenager at her feet and sniffs the air around her again. "Rare delicacy, that one," he remarks. "The nose doesn't lie. She's still a virgin."
"Yummy," Drusilla croons, but then she pulls back in her chair and looks up at him. Her big, black eyes seem almost to glow in the darkness. "You smell of the Slayer."
"She and Angel got the jump on me," he tells her. It's a slight lie. He should have known better than to walk so close to them, but he'd wondered if he could use the element of surprise to his advantage and had walked closer to them while investigating the possibility. A noise elsewhere in the cemetery had distracted him for a slight second, and when he'd turned back around, he'd literally turned back into Angel's fist.
Drusilla sniffs. "I do smell Daddy," she says. "We need him back. Daddy would stop the Slayer."
"I told you, pet," Spike says, still working on his frayed nerves and realizing that his walk had failed to calm them down as much as he'd needed it to. "I'm going to stop the Slayer."
Drusilla giggles. Anger flushes Spike. "Think that's funny, do you?" he growls.
Her face goes calm again. She looks up at him with all the innocence of a child. "No," she answers, "but Miss Edith does."
"Tell Miss Edith to mind her own business and let you eat your dinner." Spike cups Drusilla's face with a gentility that would surprise any one that a Vampire could possess and lightly kisses her forehead. "Eat up, luv. Then come join me."
"Are you going brooding some more?"
"Yes, but I'll stay home this time, I promise. The sun isn't far from rising. Eat up. You need your strength, and virgin blood's good for that too." Blood makes their veins sing with power, and no blood is more powerful than that of an unspoiled virgin. He turns to walk away.
He's back at the door again when Drusilla calls to him. "Spike?"
"Yeah, baby?"
"Promise me one thing," she asks softly.
"Anything," he vows, gazing deeply into her eyes despite the distance separating them.
"Promise me you'll love me forever - "
He smiles. "Already do, pet."
" - and that you'll stay with me forever."
Seeing the fear in her eyes and hearing it in her voice, he crosses the room until he's able to kneel before her. He takes her hands in his, lifting them away from her doll, and kisses the back of each one. He touches her forehead with his own and gazes straight into her eyes. "I promise, Princess. I'm not going anywhere. You can't chase me away. I'll be right here with you forever, and I'll love you forever. I promise."
His lips touch hers. He wants to drink of her. Need stirs within him, but he knows she's still too weak. He forces himself to peel back and kiss her forehead chastely once more. "You'll see," he vows. "I'm yours forever." He forces himself to walk away, not seeing the tears that well in her eyes or the doll's head that turns to watch him.
Miss Edith whispers on the wind. Silent tears drip down Drusilla's face. All Vampires are good liars, but her Spikey, she thinks, may well be the best.
With a savage growl, Spike throws his bottle of whisky against the wall of the otherwise empty mansion. The breaking glass does nothing to reassure him. His heart still feels dead in his chest except for the pain that eats away at him every waking moment. He had promised, and he had kept his promise! She was the one who had left him!
He sinks to the mansion's floor and weeps openly, bitterly, thinking that perhaps humans are right after all. Vampires are monsters who are incapable of love, as his Princess proved herself unable, moving from him to the next, biggest, baddest thing time and again. But he isn't like other Vampires. He doesn't seek the next biggest, baddest thing. He only wants his Princess to love him again, but she never will and never really had.
He isn't like other Vampires, and he hadn't been like other humans, either, when he'd been among them. He is a monster, a monster capable of love, a monster who had loved with everything in his being, but who, ultimately, remains incapable of earning love in return. He weeps, and somewhere, a doll laughs.
The End
A Spy's Reward, posted 4-2-13, rated M/R
Characters: Faith, Xander
He should've known better than to spy on Faith.
Her breasts came up like twin mountains of perfection as she slowly peeled off her tank top. They swayed, wetting his appetite, as she dropped her shirt to the floor. Her black leather pants followed suit. He moaned. She sashayed to the window, shoved it up, and leaned out, inhaling the crisp air and letting her full breasts hang out.
Then she grabbed him between his legs and jerked him in front of her. "Show's free." Faith smirked at the egg on Xander's face. "But if you ever spy on me again . . . " She crunched him. He yelled; her smirk grew.
The End
A Taste For the Ages, posted 5-2-13, rated K/G
Characters: Spike/Dawn
She gave him a taste to savor throughout the ages.
Spike watched silently in futile desire every time Buffy bit into a juicy hamburger, Xander dipped fries in ketchup, and Willow nibbled chocolate. The loss of savoring food was another sacrifice. The flavors had never been the same after he'd turned. That didn't stop him from cooking or from letting his Nibblet enjoy what he couldn't.
One morning, when he served Dawn fluffy pancakes drowning in golden, maple syrup like he'd enjoyed in his youth, Spike was unprepared for her gratitude. He licked his lips after she kissed him. Now, that truly was a taste to savor throughout the ages!
The End
A Whistle For Dinner, posted 3-16-10, rated M/R
Characters: Spike/Drusilla
Drusilla and Spike discuss their preferred kinds of food.
Hungry eyes watched from the shadows as the bar's last customers spilled out into the night. Most hopped into their vehicles and drove away, but a lone man chose to walk home on foot. He jostled his keys in his pocket as he began to whistle what he thought was a merry, little tune.
Drusilla grimaced and covered her ears with her pale, delicate hands. She waited until the whistler drew near to their alley way before shooting her arms around him and pulling him into the darkness. She barely gave him time to scream before she slit his throat with one long fingernail. She smiled at her mate over the balding, middle-age man's broken body. "One of my favorite kinds of food," she mused before beginning to drink the red liquid that now flowed freely from the fatal gash she had so easily made.
"Fast?" Spike guessed only to have her dark eyes look condescendingly upon him.
"Annoying," she corrected him, her voice as smooth as the night winds.
"He was only whistling - "
"Prrrecisely," she purred, lapping at the pooling blood like a cat would milk. Her big eyes stayed fixed on her William's face.
"That too," Spike admitted as he moved closer to the mouth of the alley. "He couldn't carry a tune in a bucket." Still he made a mental note to be careful when whistling around Drusilla.
"You can have the annoying, pet. I'll stick to my blondes." He stepped out of the alley, pulling his game face on as he went, and relished his dinner's scream before he actually dined on her sweet, virgin blood.
The End
A Witchy Success, posted 12-5-10, rated K+/PG
Characters: Buffy/Willow
Buffy is there for Willow on her opening night.
Willow was trembling when she stepped off the stage and into her lover's arms. Buffy pulled her close, ran her hands soothingly down her back, and kissed first her forehead and then her cheek. "You did it, Wills," she assured her, smiling brightly.
"I . . . I did, didn't I?" Willow answered hesitantly. A slow smile crept over her lips to fill her face.
"Yes," Buffy agreed, beaming proudly, "you did." She squeezed her girlfriend. "I'm proud of you."
"Thanks," Willow replied bashfully. Her green eyes turned back to the stage where her play was getting off to a good start. "I just hope it works."
"It will," Buffy assured her.
"I wouldn't have the courage to do what they're doing," she confided.
"None of these Witches would be here now if not for you, Wills." Buffy hugged her again. "You wrote a great play, and all the cast is wonderful! It's going to rock!"
"I don't want it to rock," Willow said, a pout pulling down her smile. "A Shakespearian play shouldn't rock."
"Maybe not," Buffy agreed, crooking a finger underneath her love's chin and lifting her head so that she gazed up into her blue eyes, "but this one will. It's going to be the most spectacular thing that's ever hit this stage. It's going to show the audience that they don't have to be afraid of Witches and teach them the truth of Samhain, and it's going to sparkle just like the wonderful woman who created it."
"Aw . . . " Willow started.
Buffy hushed her with a gentle kiss upon her supple lips. Then she drew Willow back against the wall, and together they watched the play unfold. The play proved to be the success Buffy had predicted. They enjoyed a standing ovation followed by rave reviews.
The End
Always Red, posted 5-24-17, rated K+/PG
Characters: Spike/Drusilla
Red is always going to be his Princess' color.
Red used to be the color of passion. I used to craft all kinds of corny verses about it. I thought, at the time, they were good, but now I can see just how lousy they really were, how lousy I was. You've opened my eyes, luv, made me see things I never saw before even though they were right in front of me. Red used to mean love which used to mean passion, but there's so much more to the passion in this world that isn't necessarily love.
And so much more to the color red, too. It doesn't simply mean love or kisses. Now, when I think of red, I see blood, fresh flowing blood running smoothly from the punctured holes on a victim's neck, just waiting for us to suck it down. Crimson blood swimming along your pale white skin. Blood dripping from your fingertips and from your smile. The blood you fed me, the blood that gave me a new life.
I see blood, and red's never looked so beautiful more. Blood smears your dark, luscious lips as they part in a smile at me. It's a smile that curls through me in spirals, starting at my eyes that receive the picture and running all the way through to my heart and my curling toes. You makes my toes curl, darling. Now that is corny, but it's true too.
You've given me a new leash on life, pet. You've opened my eyes and made me see things that were always right there before me in brand new ways. You've made this world our oyster. Nothing can stop us as long as we stand together, and we'll always be together. Our love is just like our new nature, or my new nature: It's eternal. We'll last forever, and we'll love forever.
The first time I saw you, I thought I'd never seen anything so beautiful. I still think that every night, and I always will. Even dripping with blood, you're so far more beautiful than any girl I've ever seen before. Those mortal lambs to the slaughter, as Angelus calls them, can't begin to hold a candle to your beauty. And I'm wowed again every time I stop and realize that that beauty - that you - are mine.
You've given me a new outlook on life. You've opened my eyes and bared my insides, and although I'm not certain what I'm becoming, I know I like this new life. I like it, and I love sharing it with you, my dark Princess. They laughed at me; they scorned and sneered at you. But we're going to spend eternity dancing in their blood and in the blood of their descendants. Ours is going to be a beautiful, eternal love affair, but neither white or black is going to be your color. Red is always going to be your color just as you are always going to be mine and I am always going to be yours.
The End
Angel's Failure, posted 8-17-13, rated K/G
Characters: Angel/Cordelia
Angel dreams about Cordelia.
"Where do you want to go?"
"Anywhere but Peru. I heard about the mummy Princesses there."
"There are going to be monsters anywhere we go," he advised, wrapping her in a big, bear hug from behind. He pulled her close against him; his next words came whispered against her neck. "But I'll protect you."
"I know you will," Cordy replied, angling her face to look up at him with adoring eyes and her beautiful smile. "You'll always protect me, my Angel." But then before him, the flesh of her ravishing face vanished into old bones, complete with crawling maggots. Angel awoke, again, screaming.
The End
Animal Lover, posted 8-17-13, rated T/PG-13
Characters: Buffy, Angel/Buffy, Spike/Buffy
Buffy had never really thought about it that much before.
Buffy stared at the quiz before her. She couldn't imagine what this particular question could possibly have to do with the future her life would hold, if, indeed, it held any. Her pencil hovered just before the options as she considered the possibilities.
She'd never really had a pet. She'd wanted once and had always wanted to be able to cave to Dawn's requests and give her little sister a pet, but after she'd seen what Angel had done to Willow's fish, there had been no possibility of having animals in her life.
But she had had animals in her life. How many times had Angel and Spike both referred to themselves as being animals? She remembered their bites and how they had clawed her flesh. She remembered the savage looks in their wild eyes as they'd made love, and finally Buffy checked the box that read Animal Lover.
The End
At the End of Their Tomorrows, posted 1-21-13, rated G/K
Characters: Willow/Tara
She always thought they'd have tomorrow, but she was wrong.
She always thought they'd have tomorrow. She knew death was always a possibility, as long as she was friends with the Slayer, but she never really thought it would happen to them or, at least, not to her sweet, beautiful Tara. Willow was the one who brought danger to their relationship. She was the one who should've died, not Tara, and yet here she is, at the end of their tomorrows, the one still living.
She shuts her eyes tightly every time she goes to their bed, trying to stop the tears, but they always rain. She can fight them off most of the time around her friends, focus on revenge instead of what's really eating up her heart. But here, alone, laying underneath sheets that have so often been made wet with their love making, she can't stop the thoughts or tears.
It isn't right. It isn't fair. And yet, there's nothing she can do to make it right or turn back the clock. There's no way for her to give her lover back the tomorrows she should have had, to have the happy ending she always believed they would, or to give Tara back her life.
She knows what Tara would say. It isn't her fault, but it is. She should go on with her life, but she can't. Her life died with Tara, and all Willow wants to do is wail as she does every night in the privacy of the room that once held their paradise.
The End
Characters: Giles/Buffy
Giles believes there must be a God who cares.
He bows his head every night, never once forgetting the danger to which his dearest friend is about to open herself. She's come back from the dead twice now for him, but he still can't help feeling nervous when she goes out for patrol. He remembers sending her so often when she was younger and didn't want to go, but now a part of him almost wants to ask her to stay and let some one else do the slaying.
He knows that that desire is juvenile and ridiculous. He knows they have both been called for their duties and must fulfill them. He knows that, no matter how many potentials are called by Willow's spell, Buffy is still the first Slayer and, thereby, must face the greatest dangers. He knows that, though she ran from her duty when she was younger, she now would have it no other way.
He knows it's selfish of him to want to protect her as desperately as he does. It was selfish of them to call her back from beyond the grave and more selfish still to try to keep her from her destiny. His relationship with her, he thinks, looking back, has almost always been affected by some degree of selfishness.
First, he wanted to enforce her duty upon her as his had been done to him. In those times, he rarely thought about just how much danger into which he was placing her. Her calling, after all, was that of the Slayer. It was her place to fight the Vampires so that others could live, her place to die to save innocents if and when it came to that, and yet when it had, he had been ready to do anything he could to keep her alive.
Even that had been selfish. He hadn't wanted to face the inevitable guilt that would have come over him had he sent her to an early grave, but it had been more than that, too, he reflects as Buffy leans up on her tip toes and kisses him. It had been so much more. He hadn't wanted to face life without her in it, and he still doesn't. He never will.
He grips a little too hard as they kiss good night. He wants to go with her, but he has others to train now. He can not defer their training entirely to Willow and Xander, no matter how much he would like to. He was there for her, and she's already told him that she wants him to be here now for the young Slayers. They need the best Watcher they can get, she tells him, and the best training; he is the first and provides the second, she thinks, with ease.
But what she doesn't know, what he won't tell her, is that he wants to do just the opposite. He wants to take her away from this world, to steal her away from her calling, away from both their duties, and run. He doesn't want to lose her again; his heart can barely stand the thought of her dying a third time.
Yet he should not have allowed Willow to bring her back. He should have let her stay there. They all should have let her stay in Heaven, in rest, in peace, in safety, but they were greedy. They wanted her. They wanted her friendship, her light shining in the dark world that had threatened to overcome them all in her absence. They could not let go. They could not release her, regardless of how much good it did her to be where she had been and how justly she had deserved to rest.
He wants to tell her he's sorry still every time her big, blue eyes look up through his spectacles and into his soul. He wants to grovel at her feet, to beg her forgiveness, and yet, she's already given it to him. Like the young woman always thinking of others before herself whom she has become, Buffy gave him the forgiveness he could not verbally request long ago. She forgave him, but Rupert knows he'll never forgive himself.
He'll never forgive himself for calling her back to this life where she has to lay her life on the line every night of their lives. He'll never forgive himself for placing her in as much danger as he still constantly does, and he most certainly will not forgive himself for letting her die not once but twice. He knows he's a wicked man.
A part of him feels dirty every time she caresses him, and yet, he can not stop. He can not stop putting her into danger or leaning upon her for all his earthly needs. He can not stop wanting her, aching, every time they part, to feel her caress, to taste her sweet lips, or to just see her again. He can not stop the pride from swelling within him when she looks at him so trustworthy, and yet he also can not help but to wonder how she can still trust him after all he has done and everything he has allowed to happen to her.
It's his fault she died. It's his fault that she was brought back, that she was stolen away from the Heaven which she deserves. It's his fault that she's suffered so many heartaches, endured so much punishment, and watched so many innocents die. It's his fault that her life is not better than it is.
She tried to tell him all those years ago in the school library. She tried to tell him that she was done with slaying, that she did not care if Vampires ruled the world or who they killed. She tried to turn her back on her job, and Heaven help him, he should have let her. He should have packed up all of his books and returned to England or gone somewhere at least, somewhere far away from her so that she could live her own life, have her own happiness, and not have to endure so much heartache.
Not have to endure him and the punishments he enlists upon her. "Giles?" He blinks, realizing at last that she's been talking all this time that he's been lost in his thoughts of self condemnation and guilt. "Stop," Buffy says sternly, and he looks at her, really looks at her for the first time that night. She wraps her arms around him, holds close to him, and gazes up pass his glasses into his soul as she alone possesses the uncanny ability to do with ease. "Stop beating yourself up."
"I . . . "
He starts to speak in his defense, but she shakes her head. "I know what you're thinking. You think it every night. You need to get some new thoughts, really. Think about me, in the morning, in the shower, just the two of us, hot and sweaty and getting clean and have fun." She grins as he swallows hard, the image her words have painted in both their minds stealing away his breath along with what pride he'd had left.
She leans up on her tip toes and hugs him more tightly. "You're not forcing anything on me, Giles. This is the life I want. You're the man I want." She kisses him long and deep before slowly releasing him and turning away.
"Bu-Buffy . . . "
She turns back with a bold grin as he stammers her name. "It's all right, Giles. I'll be back before sunrise; I just gotta go stake those Vamps." She rolls her eyes just like she used to do at him all those years ago. "Really, you'd think they'd get smarter by now and stop trying to gain force where we Slayers are." Her gaze softens as her eyes meet his again. "I'll be fine, really," she persists. "You're barely have time to miss me."
Then she's gone, running off into the night to meet with Faith, Angel, and Spike and leaving Giles' mouth hanging still partially open in a plea which he will not voice. It's the same plea that she didn't want to hear, with which she did not want to argue and so left before she could hear it. They know what she must do. It's the same time she had to do all those years ago, but yet instead of getting easier, watching her go running off into known danger only gets harder with each passing night.
Giles touches the cross around his neck, a cross she once wore, and then bows his head just as he did all those years ago. He speaks the same prayer he always has since first sending her into danger, "Dear God, help us. Help us all. Help her. Bring her back alive."
He used to wonder why he bothered, but now he knows. Somehow, it seems to work. Somehow, even though he had stopped long ago believing in a God who really cared, God does seem to care, at least for Buffy. He keeps her alive, and every time she dies, He lets them bring her back. He lets her live again for He knows the world needs her. They need her.
Most of all, Giles needs her, and along with his prayer for her safety, he says another prayer, a prayer of thanks for lack of condemnation and for second chances that keep coming. He loves Buffy, truly loves her far beyond any love he's ever felt for any one before, and she does seem to love him, too. That love, though he still fears it wrong at times, continues to bless them, and she continues to come home every morning to him.
He doesn't know if it's wrong or right. He fears he never will, but when she kisses him like she did scant minutes before, Giles finds still that, no matter how hard he tries to, he no longer cares. He loves her, she loves him, and as long as God keeps her returning to him, he'll keep believing in Him, in a God that does care for His people and wants them to be happy, in a God who still loves despite all the wrongs they've committed, in a God who does love him, who must love him, because He still gives him his Buffy every day.
The End
A Magical Woman, posted 8-17-13, rated K+/PG
Characters: Willow/Tara, Willow/Kennedy
Tara was a magical woman.
"She must've been one heck of a woman," Kennedy whispers long after she's thought Willow asleep down on the floor, where she persisted in staying despite their union. Kennedy had tried to persuade her that she would not try anything while she slept. She'd promised to behave herself and even offered to take the floor herself, but Willow, always the chivalrous one, had determinedly refused all her efforts to give her a softer bed.
Now, the potential Slayer stills as she hears Willow whisper in reply, "She was magical." Willow smiles sadly as she remembers her first female love. She can still see her smile and the way her eyes glowed and sparkled with her happiness when they were together. She's never seen anything more beautiful than her cherished Tara and knows she never will again. The blonde Witch brought out the absolute best in her while making her constantly feel as if they were floating, even when her feet were planted firmly on the ground. She truly was magical.
Kenn closes her eyes in the inky darkness. She should have kept her mouth shut. She should have known Willow would still be laying awake, although they'd not slept a wink the night before. They had shared their first kiss the previous evening, but what had began with something more wonderful than any fairy tale magic had quickly led them into a nightmare. She didn't regret kissing Willow, - she wouldn't have even if she'd still been trapped as Warren -, but she was sorry for the pain it had caused her. "I-I'm sorry," she whispers, hating the way her voice creaks as she wonders if she can ever truly have Willow's love.
Will wants to say the same words not to her but to her true love. She still wants to beg Tara's forgiveness for finding interest in another woman, but then a breeze blows through the room. Willow shivers in a familiar way as the cool air caresses her. It feels like hands cupping her face, and then she understands why as Tara's voice whispers to her, "It's okay."
That's all it takes for the tears to start spilling down the redhead's face again. "She is," she whispers.
Kennedy slips from Willow's bed in instant concern. "Will," she questions, "are you crying?"
"Y-Yes."
Kennedy lays down on the floor beside her. Willow doesn't fight as she takes her into her arms and comforts her, kissing her forehead and smoothing her hair with her fingers, but it is a while before she speaks again. "She knows about us."
Kennedy stiffens and looks wildly around them. It doesn't help that the clock's glowing letters confirms that they're in the middle of the midnight hour. She wonders if she needs to fear a ghost now, on top of everything else.
"She knows," Willow continues, her voice and body trembling slightly, "and she gives her okay." More tears spill from her eyes. "Oh, baby," she whispers.
Kennedy's no longer sure rather Willow's talking to her or Tara, but it doesn't really matter. Although she'll never know her, Tara has given her the best gift ever by granting her permission for them to explore their budding feelings. Kennedy knows Willow would have eventually pulled back away from her otherwise, but now that Tara says it's okay, it will finally be okay with Willow, as well. They will be okay.
"Thank you," she whispers as Willow cries her joy. She kisses her forehead again. "Thank you," she repeats and takes another kiss while smiling broadly. "You really were a great woman."
"No," Willow says, shaking her head, "a magical one."
Kennedy doesn't understand why Willow's so determined over the word choice, but she relents with a nod. "A magical woman," she agrees, and then she realizes she must have been to have given her her magical woman. "Thank you," she says one last time and kisses Willow through the night.
The End
A Monster Incapable of Love, posted 4-19-17, rated K+/PG
Characters: Spike/Drusilla
He swore he'd love her forever.
She was muttering about the stars again tonight when he left, Spike reflects sourly as he jumps down from a wall and continues along his walk. The tails of his leather trench coat flap around his legs. Usually, on a night like tonight, when he can sense the power in the Earth around him, he'd be working on his schemes in his head while enjoying being the Big Bad where all can see his actions and tremble before him.
All but two. Angel and the Slayer still haven't learned to tremble before him, but they will. He's going to defeat them and turn this entire town into a playground for his Princess. He only wishes she could stop looking at the stars so much and listening to them more than she hears him. Even more aggravating is the fact that she's been whispering more to her doll lately than she talks to him. She actually giggled at something she thought Miss Edith said tonight. Whatever it was, he's quite certain it was about him.
But she isn't well, Spike reminds himself again. He has to have patience and understanding with her. Just because he's the worst Big Bad this little Helltown has ever seen doesn't mean he has to be cruel to the woman he loves. It's the world that's meant to bow down before them. He doesn't want to harm Dru or hurt her in any way, and she has no idea that she hurts him when she whispers about him with her dolly and to the stars.
He shouldn't even be bothered by it. This isn't the first time he's given himself this stern reminder, nor is it the first time it hasn't worked. Rather he should be bothered by it or not, Dru's whisperings about him and laughter at him still burns a part of him deep down. It reminds him too much of when he was a pathetic human and his whole village laughed at him. His hands grip into fists as he remembers their screams. He made everybody who laughed at him once scream his name in their final throes of death. They never learned to like him, but they did learn to fear him.
But fear's never been enough for him. It was for Angelus and for Darla. Dru sings songs about the whole world fearing them, and the visions see sees as she sings always seem to bring her joy. As a human, Spike had dreamed of love and of doing things greater than he could ever accomplish by himself. Even now, he still dreams of love.
He does more than dream of love, he tells himself. He has love. Drusilla loves him! Then why does she whisper about him? he asks himself. Why does she want him to serve the world to her on a silver platter while giving him so little in return? Why did she used to laugh when Angelus tormented him and still longs so openly sometimes for daddy? Why does she think she exchanges whispered conversations with Miss Edith about his failures? Because, he tells himself again, she isn't right. She's sick. His Princess is sick, and the darkness in her mind isn't staying there. It's beginning to sink into her very soul.
He's seen it himself. That's why she looks at him so sorrowfully sometimes. It's why she thinks he's going to leave her one night. One night, he'll get fed up with the way her sickness makes her behavior, and he'll leave her - or so she believes, so she herself fears. But he knows himself better than any one. He'll never walk out on Dru. She's his Princess, and he'll always strive to make her happy. She might not be able to love him only just yet, but he already loves her. She's the love for whom he spent his whole human life searching.
She's the one. He'll never leave her. He'll never desert her. Bloody Hell, he even saved the world for her! And he knows already he'll do it again. He'll save it again and again, however many times it takes, just to make certain she's safe. He'll do anything for his Princess, even endure the words she whispers about him when she forgets he can hear her. Or maybe she knows he can hear her and just doesn't have the wits to care.
But one night . . . One night, he'll find a way to make her well. He'll heal her, and she'll finally see what he's been doing for her all this time. She'll finally see she's the reason for their move here, for his countless fights with the Slayer and all the hours he spends studying her every move. She'll finally see that everything he does is for her. He didn't save the world because he's going soft. He saved it, because she's a part of it and saving it also saved her, even if for just a little while longer.
Spike sighs, remembering the way he caught Angel cuddling the Slayer earlier. They hold to one another like they're in some kind of bloody play about lovers, but this is the real world. Their love won't last long. Already the Slayer's beginning to realize that he and Dru share something that she can never have. He heard her mutter about it the very night he helped her save the world. When she last saw him during that time, he heard her talk to herself about how great his love for Drusilla is. He smirks. It's just his luck that the Slayer can see it but the woman he loves, his cherished Princess, can not.
Spike's almost back home when he stops, suddenly realizing that he's coming home empty handed. He swipes at a bruise Angel left on his forehead. The bastard got a lucky punch in just as he was defending himself against his woman. Two against one has never been fair, but then Angel, even as a disgusting hero, has never truly played fair. Dru will be upset though if he comes home empty handed and may well think even less of him or, worse, talk to her doll more about his shortcomings.
Spike returns to the wall surrounding the cemetery. He doesn't have long to wait before a young couple comes walking by. He drops down before them snarling. Both teenagers scream, but it's the boy who turns tail and starts to run. Spike shakes his head. "Pathetic," he growls before knocking both of them unconscious. He takes the boy's blood on the spot but carries the girl home to his Princess.
The guy is like most humans, he thinks, and too many men of all species. He left his woman without a thought, thinking only of saving his own hide. Spike could be like that. He could leave his Princess as she claims the stars warn her he will. He could leave her to fend for her own self and to die in the Slayer's hands. Almost any female Vampire or Demon would join him at this time, but he doesn't want any of them. Even as a Vampire, he's always been a one-woman-only kind of bloke.
"Spikey's home, Princess!" he calls out as he enters their hideaway. Some of his minions look at him, but one glower from his furious eyes shuts them all down before they dare to speak one word. He's not a typical Vampire. A typical Vampire - a typical bloke even - would have left Drusilla long ago, but he's better than that. He's better than any of them know.
"I'm home, pet, and I've brought you a gift," he calls again, slipping into the familiar, welcoming shadows of the boudoir he shares with his Princess. She looks up at him from where she's combing Miss Edith's hair with her long, delicate fingers. He throws the teenager at her feet and sniffs the air around her again. "Rare delicacy, that one," he remarks. "The nose doesn't lie. She's still a virgin."
"Yummy," Drusilla croons, but then she pulls back in her chair and looks up at him. Her big, black eyes seem almost to glow in the darkness. "You smell of the Slayer."
"She and Angel got the jump on me," he tells her. It's a slight lie. He should have known better than to walk so close to them, but he'd wondered if he could use the element of surprise to his advantage and had walked closer to them while investigating the possibility. A noise elsewhere in the cemetery had distracted him for a slight second, and when he'd turned back around, he'd literally turned back into Angel's fist.
Drusilla sniffs. "I do smell Daddy," she says. "We need him back. Daddy would stop the Slayer."
"I told you, pet," Spike says, still working on his frayed nerves and realizing that his walk had failed to calm them down as much as he'd needed it to. "I'm going to stop the Slayer."
Drusilla giggles. Anger flushes Spike. "Think that's funny, do you?" he growls.
Her face goes calm again. She looks up at him with all the innocence of a child. "No," she answers, "but Miss Edith does."
"Tell Miss Edith to mind her own business and let you eat your dinner." Spike cups Drusilla's face with a gentility that would surprise any one that a Vampire could possess and lightly kisses her forehead. "Eat up, luv. Then come join me."
"Are you going brooding some more?"
"Yes, but I'll stay home this time, I promise. The sun isn't far from rising. Eat up. You need your strength, and virgin blood's good for that too." Blood makes their veins sing with power, and no blood is more powerful than that of an unspoiled virgin. He turns to walk away.
He's back at the door again when Drusilla calls to him. "Spike?"
"Yeah, baby?"
"Promise me one thing," she asks softly.
"Anything," he vows, gazing deeply into her eyes despite the distance separating them.
"Promise me you'll love me forever - "
He smiles. "Already do, pet."
" - and that you'll stay with me forever."
Seeing the fear in her eyes and hearing it in her voice, he crosses the room until he's able to kneel before her. He takes her hands in his, lifting them away from her doll, and kisses the back of each one. He touches her forehead with his own and gazes straight into her eyes. "I promise, Princess. I'm not going anywhere. You can't chase me away. I'll be right here with you forever, and I'll love you forever. I promise."
His lips touch hers. He wants to drink of her. Need stirs within him, but he knows she's still too weak. He forces himself to peel back and kiss her forehead chastely once more. "You'll see," he vows. "I'm yours forever." He forces himself to walk away, not seeing the tears that well in her eyes or the doll's head that turns to watch him.
Miss Edith whispers on the wind. Silent tears drip down Drusilla's face. All Vampires are good liars, but her Spikey, she thinks, may well be the best.
With a savage growl, Spike throws his bottle of whisky against the wall of the otherwise empty mansion. The breaking glass does nothing to reassure him. His heart still feels dead in his chest except for the pain that eats away at him every waking moment. He had promised, and he had kept his promise! She was the one who had left him!
He sinks to the mansion's floor and weeps openly, bitterly, thinking that perhaps humans are right after all. Vampires are monsters who are incapable of love, as his Princess proved herself unable, moving from him to the next, biggest, baddest thing time and again. But he isn't like other Vampires. He doesn't seek the next biggest, baddest thing. He only wants his Princess to love him again, but she never will and never really had.
He isn't like other Vampires, and he hadn't been like other humans, either, when he'd been among them. He is a monster, a monster capable of love, a monster who had loved with everything in his being, but who, ultimately, remains incapable of earning love in return. He weeps, and somewhere, a doll laughs.
The End
A Spy's Reward, posted 4-2-13, rated M/R
Characters: Faith, Xander
He should've known better than to spy on Faith.
Her breasts came up like twin mountains of perfection as she slowly peeled off her tank top. They swayed, wetting his appetite, as she dropped her shirt to the floor. Her black leather pants followed suit. He moaned. She sashayed to the window, shoved it up, and leaned out, inhaling the crisp air and letting her full breasts hang out.
Then she grabbed him between his legs and jerked him in front of her. "Show's free." Faith smirked at the egg on Xander's face. "But if you ever spy on me again . . . " She crunched him. He yelled; her smirk grew.
The End
A Taste For the Ages, posted 5-2-13, rated K/G
Characters: Spike/Dawn
She gave him a taste to savor throughout the ages.
Spike watched silently in futile desire every time Buffy bit into a juicy hamburger, Xander dipped fries in ketchup, and Willow nibbled chocolate. The loss of savoring food was another sacrifice. The flavors had never been the same after he'd turned. That didn't stop him from cooking or from letting his Nibblet enjoy what he couldn't.
One morning, when he served Dawn fluffy pancakes drowning in golden, maple syrup like he'd enjoyed in his youth, Spike was unprepared for her gratitude. He licked his lips after she kissed him. Now, that truly was a taste to savor throughout the ages!
The End
A Whistle For Dinner, posted 3-16-10, rated M/R
Characters: Spike/Drusilla
Drusilla and Spike discuss their preferred kinds of food.
Hungry eyes watched from the shadows as the bar's last customers spilled out into the night. Most hopped into their vehicles and drove away, but a lone man chose to walk home on foot. He jostled his keys in his pocket as he began to whistle what he thought was a merry, little tune.
Drusilla grimaced and covered her ears with her pale, delicate hands. She waited until the whistler drew near to their alley way before shooting her arms around him and pulling him into the darkness. She barely gave him time to scream before she slit his throat with one long fingernail. She smiled at her mate over the balding, middle-age man's broken body. "One of my favorite kinds of food," she mused before beginning to drink the red liquid that now flowed freely from the fatal gash she had so easily made.
"Fast?" Spike guessed only to have her dark eyes look condescendingly upon him.
"Annoying," she corrected him, her voice as smooth as the night winds.
"He was only whistling - "
"Prrrecisely," she purred, lapping at the pooling blood like a cat would milk. Her big eyes stayed fixed on her William's face.
"That too," Spike admitted as he moved closer to the mouth of the alley. "He couldn't carry a tune in a bucket." Still he made a mental note to be careful when whistling around Drusilla.
"You can have the annoying, pet. I'll stick to my blondes." He stepped out of the alley, pulling his game face on as he went, and relished his dinner's scream before he actually dined on her sweet, virgin blood.
The End
A Witchy Success, posted 12-5-10, rated K+/PG
Characters: Buffy/Willow
Buffy is there for Willow on her opening night.
Willow was trembling when she stepped off the stage and into her lover's arms. Buffy pulled her close, ran her hands soothingly down her back, and kissed first her forehead and then her cheek. "You did it, Wills," she assured her, smiling brightly.
"I . . . I did, didn't I?" Willow answered hesitantly. A slow smile crept over her lips to fill her face.
"Yes," Buffy agreed, beaming proudly, "you did." She squeezed her girlfriend. "I'm proud of you."
"Thanks," Willow replied bashfully. Her green eyes turned back to the stage where her play was getting off to a good start. "I just hope it works."
"It will," Buffy assured her.
"I wouldn't have the courage to do what they're doing," she confided.
"None of these Witches would be here now if not for you, Wills." Buffy hugged her again. "You wrote a great play, and all the cast is wonderful! It's going to rock!"
"I don't want it to rock," Willow said, a pout pulling down her smile. "A Shakespearian play shouldn't rock."
"Maybe not," Buffy agreed, crooking a finger underneath her love's chin and lifting her head so that she gazed up into her blue eyes, "but this one will. It's going to be the most spectacular thing that's ever hit this stage. It's going to show the audience that they don't have to be afraid of Witches and teach them the truth of Samhain, and it's going to sparkle just like the wonderful woman who created it."
"Aw . . . " Willow started.
Buffy hushed her with a gentle kiss upon her supple lips. Then she drew Willow back against the wall, and together they watched the play unfold. The play proved to be the success Buffy had predicted. They enjoyed a standing ovation followed by rave reviews.
The End
Always Red, posted 5-24-17, rated K+/PG
Characters: Spike/Drusilla
Red is always going to be his Princess' color.
Red used to be the color of passion. I used to craft all kinds of corny verses about it. I thought, at the time, they were good, but now I can see just how lousy they really were, how lousy I was. You've opened my eyes, luv, made me see things I never saw before even though they were right in front of me. Red used to mean love which used to mean passion, but there's so much more to the passion in this world that isn't necessarily love.
And so much more to the color red, too. It doesn't simply mean love or kisses. Now, when I think of red, I see blood, fresh flowing blood running smoothly from the punctured holes on a victim's neck, just waiting for us to suck it down. Crimson blood swimming along your pale white skin. Blood dripping from your fingertips and from your smile. The blood you fed me, the blood that gave me a new life.
I see blood, and red's never looked so beautiful more. Blood smears your dark, luscious lips as they part in a smile at me. It's a smile that curls through me in spirals, starting at my eyes that receive the picture and running all the way through to my heart and my curling toes. You makes my toes curl, darling. Now that is corny, but it's true too.
You've given me a new leash on life, pet. You've opened my eyes and made me see things that were always right there before me in brand new ways. You've made this world our oyster. Nothing can stop us as long as we stand together, and we'll always be together. Our love is just like our new nature, or my new nature: It's eternal. We'll last forever, and we'll love forever.
The first time I saw you, I thought I'd never seen anything so beautiful. I still think that every night, and I always will. Even dripping with blood, you're so far more beautiful than any girl I've ever seen before. Those mortal lambs to the slaughter, as Angelus calls them, can't begin to hold a candle to your beauty. And I'm wowed again every time I stop and realize that that beauty - that you - are mine.
You've given me a new outlook on life. You've opened my eyes and bared my insides, and although I'm not certain what I'm becoming, I know I like this new life. I like it, and I love sharing it with you, my dark Princess. They laughed at me; they scorned and sneered at you. But we're going to spend eternity dancing in their blood and in the blood of their descendants. Ours is going to be a beautiful, eternal love affair, but neither white or black is going to be your color. Red is always going to be your color just as you are always going to be mine and I am always going to be yours.
The End
Angel's Failure, posted 8-17-13, rated K/G
Characters: Angel/Cordelia
Angel dreams about Cordelia.
"Where do you want to go?"
"Anywhere but Peru. I heard about the mummy Princesses there."
"There are going to be monsters anywhere we go," he advised, wrapping her in a big, bear hug from behind. He pulled her close against him; his next words came whispered against her neck. "But I'll protect you."
"I know you will," Cordy replied, angling her face to look up at him with adoring eyes and her beautiful smile. "You'll always protect me, my Angel." But then before him, the flesh of her ravishing face vanished into old bones, complete with crawling maggots. Angel awoke, again, screaming.
The End
Animal Lover, posted 8-17-13, rated T/PG-13
Characters: Buffy, Angel/Buffy, Spike/Buffy
Buffy had never really thought about it that much before.
Buffy stared at the quiz before her. She couldn't imagine what this particular question could possibly have to do with the future her life would hold, if, indeed, it held any. Her pencil hovered just before the options as she considered the possibilities.
She'd never really had a pet. She'd wanted once and had always wanted to be able to cave to Dawn's requests and give her little sister a pet, but after she'd seen what Angel had done to Willow's fish, there had been no possibility of having animals in her life.
But she had had animals in her life. How many times had Angel and Spike both referred to themselves as being animals? She remembered their bites and how they had clawed her flesh. She remembered the savage looks in their wild eyes as they'd made love, and finally Buffy checked the box that read Animal Lover.
The End
At the End of Their Tomorrows, posted 1-21-13, rated G/K
Characters: Willow/Tara
She always thought they'd have tomorrow, but she was wrong.
She always thought they'd have tomorrow. She knew death was always a possibility, as long as she was friends with the Slayer, but she never really thought it would happen to them or, at least, not to her sweet, beautiful Tara. Willow was the one who brought danger to their relationship. She was the one who should've died, not Tara, and yet here she is, at the end of their tomorrows, the one still living.
She shuts her eyes tightly every time she goes to their bed, trying to stop the tears, but they always rain. She can fight them off most of the time around her friends, focus on revenge instead of what's really eating up her heart. But here, alone, laying underneath sheets that have so often been made wet with their love making, she can't stop the thoughts or tears.
It isn't right. It isn't fair. And yet, there's nothing she can do to make it right or turn back the clock. There's no way for her to give her lover back the tomorrows she should have had, to have the happy ending she always believed they would, or to give Tara back her life.
She knows what Tara would say. It isn't her fault, but it is. She should go on with her life, but she can't. Her life died with Tara, and all Willow wants to do is wail as she does every night in the privacy of the room that once held their paradise.
The End
