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Always: 17/11/03. 305 words. Angelus, in Sunnydale. At Candlelight: 23/02/04. 214 words. Willow, in her birthday. Bad News: 20/01/04. 172 words. Willy finds out about Sunnydale. Justice: 28/01/04. 212 words. Willow observes Xander and Cordelia, S3. Lesson: 15/08/04. 239 words Buffy tries to learn meditation. S2. Make Up Girl: 18/07/04. 445 words. preBtVS. Willow tries a new look. Kinda companion to Shield. Memory Lane: 30/05/04. 187 words. Spike tries to remember when it began. D/S No Looking Back: 01/12/03. 327 words. Cordelia and Doyle talk. Plan: Distraction: 01/12/03. 282 words. They have to think fast! The Past Didn't Go Anywhere: 15/02/03. 441 words. You can't escape your past. Witness: 24/10/04. 216 words. Spike watches Drusilla play.
It could be the Hellmouth sleeping calmly and calling his kind in its dreams. It could be the light of a full moon inviting darkness' children to play under her veil. Or it could be, he thought amusedly, this little girl dancing a dance of death with him. "Do you really want to live?" he whispered as her fist flew harmlessly beside him. "Because I'm not feeling it." She was stubborn, of course she was. Tight-lipped and focused, just as he had patiently taught her only a month ago. But he was Angelus, and whatever rule he taught her he also knew how to break it. "Maybe you're just playing." He threw a punch against her shoulder, only to hurt her balance and nothing else. "Do you want to play, my girl?" She recovered quickly, but not before he had trapped her arms behind her back. She turned her head around, straining her neck just to hiss in his face. "This is not a game." Angelus laughed. "That's what you object to?" Her body tried to free itself, but his nails buried in her soft wrist in warning. "Are you my girl, Slayer?" and his voice held a deceptively sweet note in it. The fury in her eyes was answer enough. Angelus felt the urge to kiss her and know how far her anger could go. And he did. "Of course you are, Buffy," he murmured against her lips, tightening his hold on her. She finally managed to kick him and disentangle herself. Angelus caught her eyes before she run away. He licked his lips thoughtfully. Buffy's eyes spoke more of hurt feelings than furious vengeance. Angelus smiled. "You are my girl," he whispered to her ghost, "Always." He had always loved a new challenge.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Willow asked as quietly as possible. Cordelia sighed. "For the hundredth time... YES." "Shh!" That came from Buffy. "They are already here." They heard the van parking in front of the house, Oz's and Xander's voices became louder as they neared the front door. "Thanks for the lift, man. I wonder what Buffy wanted us for." "No idea, she just told me to pick you up and get here ASAP." "Shit!" Buffy's eyes widened at Willow's expletive. "The cake!" the redhead continued, "We forgot the cake!" Buffy bit her lip. The cake was in the kitchen, there was no way they could bring it without the guys noticing it. "Cordelia, go, create a diversion." The brunette glared at her, not at all happy with Buffy's bossy tone. "*Now*!" She huffed but went anyway, bumping against the furniture to reach the door quickly. Oz's eyebrows shot up as the door opened, the key Buffy had given him hanging uselessly from his fingertips. This wasn't the plan. But he understood as Cordelia ran to her boyfriend, throwing her arms around him and kissing him with all her might. Oz chuckled, Xander could be a little 'distracted' but he could certainly hear the other girls doing something inside. "Whoa Cordelia," Xander exclaimed as the kiss ended, not even noticing how strong his grip on her waist was. "I take it you missed me." Cordelia rolled her eyes but even Oz could see that Xander hadn't been wrong. "Let's get inside." They manoeuvred so that the birthday guy entered first, and as soon as the door opened... "SURPRISE!" Doyle watched as Cordelia placed the Vogue magazine on the desk and sighed. "What's up, darling?" Cordelia shrugged. "Come on, Cordelia, don't you trust me?" Her dark eyes stared at him for some seconds, Doyle didn't let himself be intimidated by her glare. Finally the girl relented. "Just a dress," she admitted, "just another dress I can't buy." He grabbed the magazine and stole a glance at the dress. He frowned. It was awful. Awful. "Princess," he began, "are you sure you want *this* one?" "Oh God! Now you are telling me I have no taste?" She looked at the picture and closed her eyes. "You're right. It's horrible! I have no taste anymore!" Now she looked on the verge of tears. "I dictated fashion in Sunnydale. I knew every tip and every faux pas..." Doyle was not an expert on women, but he knew that this wasn't about the dress anymore. "But darling, this is not Sunnydale." "I do know that!" "And you don't have to be a fashion queen for me or for Angel." "Well, thank God!" "Cordelia, this is L.A, you don't have to be that girl anymore." "Then who else will I be?" Doyle breathed deeply. "Come on, we're going." He tugged on her arm. "Hey! where are you taking me?" "Out," he said, "Enough moping for you, missy, we're going somewhere, I'll buy you a hamburger and we're gonna talk about that beautiful woman you can be if you. Stop. Moping." Cordelia didn't know whether to be amused or outraged. But seeing Doyle's soft smile convinced her of the first. If he was so determined to create a new self for her, she could as well watch the process. "A salad." "Huh?" Doyle blinked, obviously lost. "Not a hamburger, a salad," Cordelia explained. "I'll go for my coat." Doyle stayed at the door, watching as she went back to the office. Oh yes, old man, he congratulated himself, you still have it.
Dawn. Dawn had left Sunnydale far behind. She had a new life. In Seattle, away from Cleveland and Slayers and rebuilding Councils. This Dawn Summers didn't know about vampires and Apocalypses was only a funny word in the dictionary. She didn't learn about 'power' and she only spoke with her sister for birthdays and holidays. Dawn didn't go to cemeteries anymore, not unless it was to put someone in the grave, she didn't look up the Internet for anything but Law-related and she certainly didn't wander at night with stakes and holy water in her purse. But summer had come, and Dawn didn't have school to hide in anymore. She refused her sister's invitation by claiming she'd go on a road trip with some girlfriends, and when Mary and Julianne cancelled she didn't think of anything better but go to New York on her own. One night, trying to find a taxi to her hotel, she had seen him coming out an alley. His duster had disappeared - maybe as it went on fire in Sunnydale - but everything else was exactly the same. There was no way he couldn't not notice her back. That had happened three weeks ago. Twenty one days of taking his hand and letting him lead. Now she waited for the sunset to come and bring him along. True, Sunnydale was her past. But there were some things that could never stay there.
Spike He had left Los Angeles long ago. Nobody trusted him and he trusted noone. If months of literally drifting through W&H had left him weary, the opposition as his form got back to solid was simply unbearable. But Spike was the owner of a quest, and he had truly believed that it was worth it. But the mission had turned to be a joke. Nobody ever won and only the infamous Powers To Be got to laugh. The sick bastards. Spike had left then. He was tired of the soap operas where the supposed heroes were the protagonists. He was tired of being pulled along like a big fool. It had been a warm summer day as he'd waited for sunset and the freedom it meant. Angel had accused him of abandoning the cause. So be it, New York was a hundred times more interesting than a lawyer firm from hell. Then he'd found her, a little girl who'd become a woman in the space of a blink. Spike discovered that he liked her, Dawn didn't bring memories of past days but instead she held the future in her hands. Spike took them every night and waited for her to show him the way. *Title taken from Feartheinn's fabulous Draco/Ginny story. I was in Dallas for some time. Nice place that. Hot like hell but hey, after the Hellmouth everything is cool. Heh, I like wordplays too. Then I came here, heard that the local bar had closed. A karaoke of all things! Oh well, I tried following the trend but old habits die hard. Those demons were too peaceful, wanted a non-violence spell and all that. No way, I said. You see, my wealthiest clients are always the most aggressive. Call it bad karma if you like. I told them that it'd be my rules or nothing. Most of them accepted, not many places like their patrons green-skinned, you mind. So, here I am, going to celebrate my first year in L.A in some weeks. I'll take a vacation, I think, maybe go haunt the old places, go down memory's lane and all that. Sunnydale was pretty when you forgot about the death toll. What? No Sunnydale anymore? Damn, that's damn shame. I had some good clients still living there, you see... (for it is not hers) She was kissing Xander only two hours ago. Hidden behind stacks of books, meters from where she discovered *them* hardly a year ago. Petty vengeance, Willow'd thought as she kissed him harder. Petty because none had the courage to tell Cordelia and the cheerleader was away with no chance of catching them. Willow watches them now. Guilty because she always thought to be a good girl. Afraid because Oz is scarce meters away and what if he smells it. Willow watches as Cordelia's hand drifts into Xander's, the quiet familiarity as his fingers close over it. Cordelia is whispering into Xander's ear until they both laugh. Willow watches them... That is her place. She was kissing him two hours ago, therefore he should be hers until the night is over. But he is not. Xander can never be hers. Cordelia leaves for the bathroom and they stay looking at each other. Willow smiles tremulously, they hadn't had such a big secret since Willow broke her Mom's favourite vase. She puts her hand on his and tries not give herself away when he doubts in holding it. She is not envious, Willow thinks determinedly. Xander was hers long before Cordelia resembled an human being. Willow really is not envious... ...except that she is.
It had been her eleventh birthday, the first one her parents had found the perfect excuse to miss. Willow had been crying until her mother gave her a pink-wrapped box and promised her they'd be home to sing her Happy Birthday at night. Willow had tried to smile when Dad and Mom waved her good-bye and as soon as they'd been out of sight she'd raced to the phone - before Macy, her babysitter, could use it indefinitely - and called Alex. What he'd done then was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her. He and Jesse had pooled enough money for a little cute plush bear and a small, simple cake. Willow had happily let Macy monopolise the telephone if that meant peace for her and her friends. They played with her shiny new laboratory, pink paper thrown all over her room. Xander gave life to Mr. Smith, the new bear, making them laugh with his silly jokes and making it play alternatively the role of a mad scientist (Jesse's choice) and a studious researcher (Willow's demand). As night approached and there was no sign of her parents, the boys had wisely kept little Willow from crying by lighting a candle - no way Macy was letting them use eleven - and singing her Happy Birthday. Happily licking little crumbs away from the corners of her lips, Willow had decided that the cake was good. Oh yes, her friends' present had definitely tasted a thousand times better than the elaborate ones her mother used to buy. It was then, by the light of the lonely candle, that Willow had noticed the shine in Alex's eyes and how his smile widened every time he looked at her. Willow had blushed when she bent down to blow her candle, and her wish would only burn her afterwards.
Spike isn't sure where it'd begun. It wasn't when she'd dragged his drunken arse through Sunnydale, escaping a brawl he was sure he started because some idiot drunk had looked at the girl in the wrong way. But that was the first time he acknowledged there was a 'right way' to look at her. It hadn't been when she'd single-mindedly hunted for him in L.A., right before her trip with her sister, and for a second he had sworn that Angel, prophecies and destinies were a mere pebble in his shoe when compared to the fury in his girl's eyes. But that was when he'd started calling her 'his'. It hadn't been when she came back either, tired of life with Buffy and wishing nothing but to forget her freaky life as the Slayer's little sister. He'd been the first one she'd called and he hadn't had the heart to tell her that their friendship was the freakiest of them all. Spike cannot pinpoint the exact moment where this, she, became his life. But looking at the slim brunette cuddled against his side, he doesn't really care. Noiselessly closing the bathroom door, Willow walked confidently down the hall, a new skip on her step that hadn't been there before. Heads turned as she walked, people who never noticed her suddenly startled out of their ignorance. It was better than what she'd imagined. Suddenly a hand grabbed her arm and she shrieked, calming only when she noticed who it was. "Xander," she greeted him. "Willow?" He looked at her, almost accusingly. She retreated instinctively from that look. "Something wrong?" "Well." Xander threw his hands in the air, as if whatever his problem was should be obvious for her. It wasn't. He peered into her face intently. "What did you do?" She smiled a RoseWood#23 smile, her PaleNight shadowed eyes sparkling with contentment. "Just a little something I found on my mother's vanity table." Xander shook his head. "It isn't you, Wills." The smile slipped and suddenly hurt eyes stared at him for the longest second. Then she pushed him away and ran back into the girls' bathroom. * "I'm sorry, Willow," was the first thing she heard when she finally had the courage to step out from the bathroom. She sniffed and turned around, intending to ignore him all the way. "I shouldn't have said that, can you forgive me?" Willow didn't even stop, but grabbed her books more tightly. "Please pretty please with a big cherry on top?" That last was designed to make her smile and forgive, that Willow knew. This time she wouldn't fall in the trap. "But I was shocked. So much make up..." Xander fumbled with his words and this time Willow didn't put him out of his mercy. If he wanted to tell her how unpretty she was, surely Willow wouldn't help him out. She widened her stride, hoping to lose him in the throng of students going to class. "That's for Cordelia. Or Aura. Or Harmony. Not you." He took her shoulder, finally halting her. She shrugged his touch off, still so mad that she could dump her books on him if that wouldn't make her so terribly late. "Why not?" and the question came out as the challenge she intended it to be. Xander's eyes looked helplessly into her make-up less face, he mouthed a few words and finally just expelled a long breath and said it. "You don't need that garbage. You're beautiful without any of it." Surprised, Willow smiled slowly. "Really?" Xander nodded. She took a deep breath and threaded her arm through his. "So, did you solve Mr. Bock's problems?" Knowing himself forgiven, Xander laughed and shook his head. "As if I could ever do it without the Willster!" Willow laughed along. The only sounds in the room were the soft clicks of the clock and her own breathing. Buffy tried to concentrate as she'd been told to, to wipe her mind of everything that might concern her. She couldn't. There was a big History test next morning, Willow was going through another Xander-related depression, this floor was too cold and, to top things off, her right leg was falling asleep. She shifted carefully to the left, shaking her leg a little bit to keep the circulation working. Then her earlobe began tickling. Damn new earrings. As silently as possible she moved a hand to it. A loud sigh told her she hadn't been silent enough. She opened her eyes to find Angel, who sat in front of her, looking disapprovingly at her. "I'm sorry," she quickly apologised, "but meditation is so not me. Just ask Giles." Angel shook his head, unwilling to concede defeat. He stood up and now sat behind her. Buffy squirmed again, suddenly nervous. "Just relax," he said soothingly. His hand went to his shoulders and began kneading softly. Buffy could almost feel all thoughts about History, Willow and the floor go away. "You're good at this," she murmured, every second bringing her further into herself. Behind her Angel smiled and, as soon as she was completely quiet, stopped his ministrations to just look at her. Now he remembered why he'd proposed to teach her about meditation. Spike watched from the doorstep. He wasn't allowed to step inside the room, but after bringing Drusilla a fresh kill she'd consented to letting him watch. To witness Drusilla's sporadic games never failed to arouse his interest. His lover always had a new lesson to teach him. She could be a little messy sometimes, but this time they were underground in a secluded neighbourhood. Drusilla could cause all the noise her black heart desired. This time the victim was a man. Amazingly he had no resemblance to Angelus, but the slight accent as he pleaded for mercy clued Spike into Drusilla's reasons to choose him. At the moment she was busy arranging her tools; her toys, as she lovingly cooed in the stranger's ear. Her smile was beautiful when she finally found the one she wanted, a long thin knife that made the man's eyes bulge in fear. With good reason, Spike thought amusedly, chuckling at the fear that coated the man's scent and the sweat following it. Drusilla turned to him sharply and brought one finger to her mouth. He nodded, a promise to stay silent for the rest of the night. Then his dark princess smiled and blew him a playful kiss. The smile only widened when the first scream rang through the room. |
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