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For Kallysten's 2005
drabbles for 2005
Connor&Angel, post NFA
Connor always calls him 'Angel', just as any other fellow fighter would. Angel doesn't
resent that, never tries to convince him otherwise; he's glad that his son acknowledges
him at all.
That's why he's shocked when he picks up the phone and hears "Dad." down the
line. It's followed by a muffled sound and then, "It's Faith. She... She...."
Connor's voice breaks, resurfaces only to whisper a "Come, please come." before
hanging up.
This is not how Angel imagined it. But it's Connor, calling for his father for the first
time ever. Between the grief and the loss, it's enough.
Lindsey, S5
You didn't survive in Wolfram and Hart without understanding that betrayal nests deep in
everybody's bones.
Betrayal of yourself turned you away from the path. You lost against Angel, allowing him
to make you see in greys. But now you are back, and you didn't return without covering
your bases first. You certainly didn't agree to accompany Angel's green pet without
studying his file in conscience. Lorne's a good guy, a gentle soul that'll break after
carrying out Angel's orders. So you'll spare him the pain, one well-aimed shot and
goodbye.
Everybody wins; you live another day.
Works for you.
Fanged Four, past
Drinks flowed free through the streets, men and women celebrated merrily throughout the
city. Four walked alongside the humans, laughing and marching predatorily through the
unsuspecting crowd.
Angelus led them, stopping to kiss the youngest with a kiss of death. Darla kept one hand
tucked in Angelus' arm, the other reaching to claw through the drunkards' necks. Drusilla
and Spike danced behind them, following their steps yet hearing only their own music.
Spike tapped a stranger's shoulder sometimes, offering Drusilla's hand and then watching
amusedly as his lover nuzzled at her new partner's throat.
Invisible among the living, four hunted.
Lindsey, post S2
He's trying.
It's difficult, some mornings, to wake up and remind himself that he's not cold, that he
isn't soulless. Wolfram and Hart is only a shadow, he repeats before the mirror, loudly.
It's a shadow that tempts him from under his eyelids every second, but a shadow
nonetheless.
He tries to make good. He really does. Gives advice, honest and helpful, to those in
trouble. A recent divorcée, a disgruntled worker, beaten women that eat at the same
diners where he stops.
It's difficult, every night, to remember that he doesn't need the control, the power.
But he's trying.
Parker, future
Monuments? Museums? Europe was so boring. Parker had joined this tour for the guide's nice
ass. But enough was enough. He'd catch the group back at the hotel, invite the girl for a
drink and a warm bed. Checking Rome on his own was more fun, anyway.
He never knew what attacked him, but seconds later he was helped up by a strong hand.
Short girl. Dark-blonde hair.
Parker blinked, something niggling at the back of his mind.
Green, surprised eyes.
"Thank y---"
Green, angry eyes.
Sharp pain finally reminded Parker of her name. Damn, Buffy still hit hard.
Xander in Japan
Xander finally understands Chang Mai. Stuck with strangers, surrounded by a language you
couldn't figure out. Mai - only now Xander realises that was her first name, go
figure - must have seen battle as salvation.
TV is a mystery here, an unintelligible babble. He settles for an anime; the exaggerated
expressions will guide him into the plot. Big mistake. For starters the good guy is
constantly slammed to the ground. By the girl. Huh? Hadn't she been mooning over
him? Talk about PMS. And are those... cat ears?
Xander groans, turns off the TV. He can't wait to return to Cleveland.
Joyce, BII
"You hit me with an axe one time."
I gasp; I've grabbed an axe only once. To save my daughter.
That man is under my roof now. His hands beat my baby and now he's at her side, with
Buffy's blessing. I can only stare wordlessly as they talk. Buffy should be scared; he's
attacked her. Instead he is the worried one, waving his hands and sticking his chin out,
unconsciously trying to dominate over her.
Then my daughter's leaving me, my protection. With him. The man I saved Buffy from is
aiding her now.
I don't understand. I don't.
Buffy, late S2
Stepping into the library always makes the world crumble down. Giles won't meet her eyes,
mumbling about training with Jenny-grief deep in his words. Willow's smile wavers
dangerously, its only reason a positivism she cannot shake off. Cordelia shakes her head
in almost-sympathy, Oz's hand hovers over her shoulder in mute support. Xander takes a
look at her and swallows his joke.
They don't need words to ask if she found him last night. If she killed him. If she will
ever be strong enough.
She drops her head and fights not to cry. No, no, and she doesn't know.
Buffy, late S2
She wakes up and doesn't remember. Takes a shower, grabs her clothes and chatters through
breakfast. Life is sweet when she doesn't remember.
Reality comes in her friends' uneasy looks, their anxious questions. They worry about her,
they say, as if their concern could protect her from the truth. She goes through school in
a daze, begging for it to be a nightmare. But night comes and the truth stays. He isn't at
her side anymore. Now he fights for her death.
She closes her eyes and prays for sleep. Life is sweet when she can dream it isn't true.
Buffy, post-Chosen
She understands why he left. It's been years now; she can look into the past and recognise
all the signs. He'd needed to leave, to test himself and shape his future on his own.
Nobody could understand that better than her.
But then Buffy remembers the scared girl he left behind, the nights she cried herself to
sleep and the insecurity that took years to hide. The hurt. She remembers the Buffy of
before and how much she'd needed him to stay, to understand and protect her.
Yes, she understands why he left. But never how he could abandon her.
Dawn/Spike, future
Dawn hears someone bellowing her name. Spike? Dawn runs outside the dormitory, finds him
at the door. Why?
That's the moment she notices all her 'friends' staring at him, curiosity lightening their
eyes. Hungry curiosity. Dawn cannot stand them. They constantly needle her about her lack
of boyfriend. Time for payback.
Spike owes her, for keeping quiet about Giles' disappearing whisky. And she isn't a
bad kisser. And she needs these girls off her back. Dawn grins and flings herself at him,
kissing Spike full on the mouth.
Seconds later she realises that he wasn't supposed to return the kiss.
Faith, S3
Faith found the nest deep in the factory district. Question was, would she call the
Watcher? Giles was okay, stayed alive and acted all nice and caring. But he'd surely call
Miss Perfect and insist they raided the hideout she'd found together. Faith
snorted. No way, she'd teach them how she'd hunted before.
Some matches and gas were all she needed. A nice circle around the factory and boom!
goodbye vamps. But the flames kept going, ignoring Faith's use of an abandoned
extinguisher. She watched as the next building fell and sighed. Okay, so this wouldn't go
in her résumé.
Dawn, about Spike. S7
Before it'd been easier. He hated Buffy, loved her mother; those were things Dawn related
to. Now it's different, so strange.
He's still Spike, those are his eyes, his hands and his favourite brand of cigarettes
peeking from his pocket. But he's not. He acts differently now, tries to side-step their
pain. He never laughs at their misery anymore, doesn't joke at Death's door.
A soul is always for the better, Dawn knows. But it's too weird. The one Dawn counted with
to twist the hurt into anger is gone and she is forbidden to miss him.
But she does.
Darla&Spike, past
If looks could kill.... The dangerous glint in Darla's eyes unmistakably promised pain if
he dared cross her.
"Back off," Spike growled. "I'm not doing this."
Darla rolled her eyes, as if dealing with a stubborn toddler. "Yes, you are."
Then she pulled him from his collar until they were nose-to-nose. "I'm telling
you. It's the way of the world, boy." She flung him aside carelessly.
"Now go!"
Darla could pull all the rank she wanted; Spike didn't care. He gave a rat's ass about how
fashionable those things were in this country. He wasn't going anywhere near those
wigs.
Faith, dancing
Faith knows all the moves. The nervous back-and-forth of the new couples, the anxious
gyrating of the attention-seekers. Lovers do it slow and caring; free and careless for the
friends. She disdains them all, has no use for any.
When she dances, it's only herself and the music. Every note cruises through her body,
each beat smoothly guides her movements. Faith knows she becomes the flame in every
dancefloor, and she scorns the dumb moths attracted to her.
One day it'll be different, she knows. One day she'll find someone to fuel the fire
instead of being consumed by her.
Human Drusilla
Drusilla ran as fast as her skirt allowed her. Her mother called her name across the
street, but for the first time in her ten years she didn't obey.
Drusilla ran faster, eager to reach the next street. Relief hit her when she glimpsed a
furry paw stepping into the road. She sprinted forward, side-stepping the bystanders, and
lifted the small body swiftly, snuggling it to her chest. She winced when the carriage
breezed past them, drawing gasps from the onlookers.
"Hey there." She petted the puppy's head, smiling at its wide, surprised eyes.
"I saw you yesterday, remember me?"
Vamp Willow
She hadn't hesitated to turn Xander without permission, an unprecedent audacity in the
Master's court. The price for keeping him had been high, both bound to the Master's every
whim for weeks without end. But it'd paid well. Xander was eternally hers now, and her
boldness had caught the Master's attention.
This new world liberated her. No parents to please, no teachers to impress. Her games were
enough to become the Master's favourite, made her the apple of his eyes as she rode
Angelus while pinning him to a wooden cross.
The game was power, and she played to win.
Willow, New Years
Willow stares out her window as the clock nears midnight. Goodbye 1996, you weren't a
bad year.
But '97 will be different. Better.
Enough Miss Pleasant. No more beating around the bush, her Resolve Face would do the
talking for her now. Her shyness around Xander was over; Jesse's nudges and winks wouldn't
embarrass her.
Willow would be direct; she'd be bold; she'd be brave. Yes, brave.... That was this year's
aim. From now on she'd speak her mind freely, tell Xander her feelings and her parents to
lay off. A new Willow would be born. And she'd be brave.
Vamp!Xander/Vamp!Willow
His eyes opened, taking in his surroundings. Colours instantly assaulted him; sharp
edges and shades over every surface. Whispers cut through his brain, confusing him. And
above everything, his name.
“Xander?”
Her voice.
Her.
He recognised her even as the world was tilting off his axis. Her hair looked brighter,
screaming in countless hues of red. His eyes locked with a sea of greens and greys, the
black and white of her pupils searching into him.
Through it all her hand hovered over his. The cornerstone that had always been his
constant, his...
“Willow.” Xander grasped her hand. “Missed me?”
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