Writing Happens

BBTL - The Mayor's Election Spot

2008-11-04T19:11:28Z

http://tinyurl.com/6puusc BBTLS2VOTE - The Mayor’s Election Spot - Don't forget to vote!

Written by yours truly - me! *grin*

Check it out!

NaNoWriMo

2008-10-31T14:04:07Z

... in 838 minutes and counting...

Who's with me?

People's Choice Podcast Awards! Please Vote

2008-10-24T14:06:52Z

Ganked from sl_podcast:

Hi everyone! If you didn't hear already Buffy Between the Lines is up for Entertainment Podcast at the People's Choice Podcast Awards!!!

This is a huge honor and we need as many votes as possible to win. Between today and the 27th you can vote once a day - every day.

You're not just voting for me - you're voting for haldira, aurey09, sl_podcast, athenamuze, ubiquirk, beer_good_foamy, and well a bunch of other people who work on Buffy Between the Lines!! (like 200 of them)

And while you're there please vote for sl_podcast's dad's podcast (that she produces) Transformed! for Religion Inspiration.

And these other people who work on Buffy Between the Lines:

Comedy4Cast for Comedy
The Signal for Movie
Transformed! for Religion Inspiration
Truth Seekers Podcast for Political
The Geek Spin for Podsafe Music

And our friends:
The Irish & Celtic Music Podcast - People's Choice
Coverville - Best Produced
katia and kyliemac v.o. (original version) - General
katia and kyliemac tourist tips - Travel

Thanks! Remember, you can vote once a day until they close the polls!

x-posted to auntiero

Happy Birthday, a2zmom!

2008-10-07T19:57:31Z

Hope you have a great day!

Drabble: Hot for Teacher

2008-10-05T21:51:02Z

Title: Hot for Teacher
Word Count: 100
Author: writero
Pairing: Jenny/Giles
A/N: Written for open_on_sunday prompt: teach/teacher

Hot for Teacher

“It just slips in … here…”

“Here?” His words came fitfully, hesitantly.

She laughed, low and sultry. “No, silly. Here.” She guided his hand to the right place.

“Oh, yes… right … here…” His hand trembled slightly.

“And you press… here… and… Voila!”

A click and a whir and the data appeared on the monitor as it had appeared in the book. Giles blinked owlishly as Jenny leaned back, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. “Oh, yes… I see. But perhaps… you could show me, just one more time. How do I retrieve the files from the disc… again?”

x-posted to open_on_sunday

writero @ 2008-10-01T22:13:00

2008-10-02T02:28:42Z

Title: Full Circle
Rating: PG for now
Medium: Fanfic
Setting: Early Season 3 and then it goes wildly AU after that

Summary: What would have happened if Buffy met with Spike instead of Lilly in “Anne?” Where would it have taken them?

Disclaimers: Spike, Buffy and the Buffyverse are not my creations. They are the glorious brain children of Joss Whedon. Any liberties I take with the characters and the ‘verse are ‘cause he’s indulgent towards his fans. Some of the diner dialogue is directly from the original episode, “Anne.” The general concept of Drusilla leaving Spike for a chaos demon isn’t mine either. That’s from “Fool for Love,” Season 5. I didn’t write or create either! Please don’t say I did.

A/N: If you're still reading this, many thanks for your perseverance. This is going on much, much longer than I expected. As always, comments are greatly appreciated and help to feed the muse.
===========================================
When last we left our heros... click for previous parts

===========================================

She storms around the bare room, fury written in her eyes.

"That worm dares to command me? Me! As though I were his lackey?"

Drago cowers in the doorway. He knew before he spoke that this summons would not go well.

"Very well. I will deign to answer this ... summons." The word drips with derision from her lips. With a flash she is gone, leaving Drago blinking owlishly in the light.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Buffy wakes, blinking against the glare of a bare bulb overhead. Stretching, she rises from the pallet on the floor, easing the stiffness of joints rested too long. She paces the confines of her cell. It’s been three days since they were taken. Three days confined to this bare room. Three days of feeling reawakened. Memories were blurring now. Memories from before were bleeding through. Friends. A concerned… and very angry… mother. An older man with a … polishing habit.

A moan from the far corner distracts her from her thoughts. She turns to look at the man in the corner. She recognizes him. Her feelings are confused though. There’s concern, certainly. He looks badly hurt. But underlying that is… distrust… and … attraction… and…

“Buffy?” he questions. He rises gingerly from his own pallet. Their captors have been none too gentle with him. “Buffy?” His voice rises, filled with anxiety. It’s no wonder. One eye is swollen shut, the other ringed with bruises. She moves to his side and lays a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I’m here, Spike.”

The air releases from his chest in a whoosh. “I thought they’d…”

“I know. They haven’t. Not yet.”

He peers into her face trying to make out her features. “Don’t know what I’d do… We’ve got to get out of here. Escape. Try to find Giles.”

“I still don’t … It’s like there’s this ….”

“Cloud. Yeah, I know. Been through this, right? I think these demons are doing this to you, making you forget who you are. What you need to do. You’re the Slayer, the Chosen One. You fight to keep the world safe. If these guys are making you forget that, odds are they don’t exactly want puppies and rainbows for the rest of us, yeah?”

Buffy scrunches her nose in contemplation. “I suppose so, Spike. But then why are you trying to help? You’re a vampire, right? You’re what I’ve been running away from… or…”

Spike rakes his hands through his hair, wincing as they scrape over a particularly tender spot. “Yeah… ‘bout that…” His attention is drawn from her to a spot over her left shoulder, “Shut it, you.”

Buffy glances over her shoulder. She sighs and turns back to him. “I thought you stopped seeing ghosts two days ago.”

“Yeah, so did I. Oi! Shove off! Tryin’ to have a conversation here!” He fixes his attention back on Buffy. “Sorry ‘bout that. This soul thing is a mite more complicated than… well… I’m not the broody type, right? Gotta put them memories in their place,” he says, taking a defensive stance.

Buffy cocks her head to the side as she regards him. This Spike in front of her doesn’t jive with any of the memories whirling in her head. Not the hideous monster from the manufactured memories, nor the momentary ally from Before. He’s different. She supposes it’s the soul he keeps saying he has now. And another memory strikes her from Before. Another vampire with a soul.

“Oh, God! Angel!” It’s torn out of her mouth before she can stop it.

Spike looks disgusted. “So, you’ve remembered the pouf, have you?” He turns and stalks to the opposite wall, trying to hide the hurt.

“I… I … killed him… sent him to …”

“Hell… yeah. I know. And right good of ya to do it, too. Whole world would’ve been destroyed otherwise. Sucked into Hell through the gaping maw of Acathla.”

She pulls herself out of the memory, sees him with his back towards her. What a strange man … vampire… man… he was. He defied everything she knew or thought she knew about vampires. An odd juxtaposition of monster and vulnerable human, he made her think about her black and white world and how it wasn’t nearly as defined as she thought it was.

“Spike, I’m sorry. The memories… they just keep … It’s this place. I think.”

He turns to face her. “Well, at least you’re starting to remember who you are again. That’s something, innit?” He starts stalking the perimeters of the room, looking for a way out, a hidden catch, a door, something. “Now maybe we stand a chance on getting out of here before the squid squad comes back with their … tentacles.”

Buffy smothers a grin at his barely concealed shudder. Who would have thought the Big Bad would be squeamish about tentacles?

Step away from the mirror.

“Huh? What did you say?”

“What? I didn’t say anything, Slayer.”

Step away from the mirror.

“There it is again. Spike, don’t you hear it?”

He stops in front of the mirror, facing her. Hands on his hips he demands, “Hear what? All I hear are my bleedin’ footsteps on the bleedin’ concrete as I search the bleedin’ walls for a way out. Again. I don’t know why I bother. You’re not tryin’ at all. Mights well just sit down and wait for someone to rescue us like soddin’ Rapunzel.”

Behind him, a thin line appears down the middle of the mirror.

“Spike,” Buffy whispers, her eyes round.

Spike spins around in time to see the mirror sliding apart. Two creatures are standing in the opening, tentacles gently waving. He wavers slightly and then remembers himself. Boldly, he moves to stand in front of Buffy, his one thought to protect her. She rolls her eyes and steps to stand at his side, oddly curious and no longer fearful.

We are here to take you to your next destination. You must come with us to save our Master. If you do not, the world – your world – will perish.

“Buffy, did you…?”

“Yeah, I heard them. In my head. It’s creepy, but I think they’re okay.”

“You think…? These are the same things who beat me to a bloody pulp – literally, kidnapped us and held us in this room for three days. What makes you think they’re okay?”

“I don’t know… just a … feeling,” Buffy responds, taking a step forward.

Spike grasps her arm. “I don’t know. They seem…”

Buffy smirks at him, “Tentacle-y?”

He pulls up short. “What of it? Not necessarily conducive to easin’ m’mind, yeah?”

It is time to go. The Master needs your assistance. It is time.

The voice in her head is insistent. Deep down she knows she shouldn’t agree, should fight her way out instead, but she feels compelled.

The truth shall be revealed to you, but only if you come. It is time.

She looks over her shoulder at Spike, unaware until that moment that she had started forward. “It’s time.”

“Time? For what, Slayer?”

“Time to save the world, of course.” She faces forward and walks between the two creatures through the opening in the mirror.

“Right, through the looking glass it is, then,” Spike mutters to himself and strides through the mirror opening after her.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Drabble: Prompt - Word

2008-09-30T20:32:44Z

It's been a while since I've had half a chance to write anything not related to some other projects. This was fun!

One Word

They hovered on the brink. One word was all it would take. Just one. She could say it. Caught in his embrace. She could. It was just there, on the tip of her tongue. One word to tip the scales.

They were a heart beat away from it. A beat. That was it. She looked into his eyes, so close she could see the little variations in his irises. He blinked. Blue disappeared behind long lashes. She inhaled. So close. Lips parted. Pink tongue licked dry lips. And then…

Nothing… she turned abruptly and walked away. One word never spoken.

x-posted to open_on_sunday

Shameless Plug: Podcast Awards - Buffy Between the Lines!

2008-09-17T01:53:41Z

From sl_podcast:
As I speak, errr write. Nominations have opened for the Podcast Awards and I'd like your help. EVERYONE can nominate (and later vote) podcasts and I'd like you to nominate some of the ones I work on!

There are a lot of great podcasters out there who work tirelessly to create content that is not only free, but awesome. No matter what your stand is on award shows (or this award show in particular) the reward you can give these content producers by nominating their podcast is priceless.

Many of you -are- podcasters, some of you aren't, but I'd like to invite you to nominate Buffy Between the Lines (http://buffybetweenthelines.com/) for Best Produced and Best TV/Entertainment if you have room to do so!

Also, if you don't have a podcast for Spiritual/Inspirational - can you nominate my dad's podcast - Transformed!

Even if you don't nominate our podcasts, please take time and nominate someone. Then drop them an email and tell them how grateful you are for their hard work!

Thank you for being such awesome people.

Please nominate at - http://podcastawards.com

As many of you know (or maybe you don't... well you do now), I'm one of the writers for Buffy Between the Lines (Seasons 1 and 2) and Angel Betwen the Lines (in production now). Even if you don't listen to BBTL, you probably listen to another. Show your appreciation and nominate your favorites. Thanks!

We now return you to your regularly scheduled f-list. ;)

x-posted to my regular LJ.

Support the Austin Browncoats & Make a Pledge!

2008-08-26T23:11:08Z

That's right! Make a pledge for how many hats you think the Austin Browncoats' Secretary, Claudia, can make during Dragon*Con. The number she makes will determine the amount you owe.

Claudia will only be knitting during the booth hours:
Friday, Saturday, Sunday 10am-7pm
Monday 10am -5pm

Visit Her Jayne Site, www.ton80.com/Jaynehats, to watch her progress.

To Pledge, please email claudia@austinbrowncoats.com. Remember, your pledge supports Austin Browncoats and their charities, including Equality Now! You don't have to be at Dragon*Con to participate! They'll be documenting the entire process!

Drabble: Prompt - Quick

2008-08-06T15:57:32Z

Walking Away

Click. Click. Click. Click. Her quick steps sounded on the pavement as she stormed away from the alley, her mission clear. He lay there, bleeding on the ground. Maybe provoking her wasn’t the right thing to do tonight. But he had to try. Had to stop her before she ruined her life for an accident, a stupid, bloody accident.

“Buffy,” he rasped out.

He tried to rise, but his injuries were too severe, too fresh. He reached out a wounded arm, ignoring the pain. The quick click-click of her shoes on the pavement echoed in his ears. She was gone.

x-posted to open_on_sunday

Full Circle: Part 4

2008-07-24T16:48:23Z

Title: Full Circle
Rating: PG for now
Medium: Fanfic
Setting: Early Season 3 and then it goes wildly AU after that

Summary: What would have happened if Buffy met with Spike instead of Lilly in “Anne?” Where would it have taken them?

Disclaimers: Spike, Buffy and the Buffyverse are not my creations. They are the glorious brain children of Joss Whedon. Any liberties I take with the characters and the ‘verse are ‘cause he’s indulgent towards his fans. Some of the diner dialogue is directly from the original episode, “Anne.” The general concept of Drusilla leaving Spike for a chaos demon isn’t mine either. That’s from “Fool for Love,” Season 5. I didn’t write or create either! Please don’t say I did.
===========================================
Part 3 here

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Peering at the captives through a double paned window, the sorcerers burble and chirp to each other. Bringing them here… now… it was dangerous. The timing had to be just right. Make a move too soon and events happen in the proscribed path. Move too late and their intended results get twisted, skewed. Playing with time and minds… always a tricky business with humans. Even more so now, with the girl. But it had to be done if they were to save their Master.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“What do you mean they’ve gone? Where did they go?” Giles demands.

Quentin Travers calmly sips his tea. “If I knew that, Rupert, I wouldn’t have said they disappeared, now would I? Not to worry. We have our best men working on finding them.”

Joyce feels her rage begin to boil. Didn’t this … man know that this was her daughter he was talking about? Didn’t he know…? She can’t keep quiet any longer. She surges to her feet from the chintz covered chair she had been installed in when they arrived. “Then why aren’t you out there? If the Council is so all powerful and has everything under control, why did you lose them?”

“Joyce…” Giles cautions.

“No, Rupert, don’t caution me. Don’t tell me to be quiet, to be calm. I won’t. I can’t. This is my daughter we’re talking about. I’ve been calm enough. I want answers. Now!”

Safely ensconced behind the massive desk, Quentin watches the by-play between the two. This was the first chance he'd gotten to meet a Slayer's family member, let alone watch their reaction to the Council and the Slayer's Watcher. It was intriguing. It was like watching a power struggle between two politicians, both so sure they're approach was the best. One looking out for the child, the other for the Slayer. Fascinating.

"And I'm sure we'll get answers... soon, Joyce. We just need some clues, some hint of where they might have gone," Giles says.

Joyce crosses her arms and looks from Giles to Quentin. She's unconvinced, but realizes she has no other recourse. "Fine. Let's start searching then."

Quentin looks her in the face, the tea cup's rise to his lips paused in mid-air. "I beg your pardon?"

"Let's start searching. Let's start canvassing the neighborhood where they were last seen. Let's ask people when they last saw Buffy."

"It's not that simple, Mrs. Summers."

"Why not?"

Giles turns to observe his superior. Under other circumstances, he would have enjoyed watching him squirm. His concern for Buffy overrode that latent bit of schadenfreude, though. Until he knew what they were facing, Buffy remained his top priority. And he wondered the same thing, why isn't it that simple?

Quentin's silence fills the room.

"Right. Rupert, I'm leaving. If you hear something, call me on my cell phone. I'm going to start my own investigation." With that final shot, Joyce turns, gathers up her purse and coat and walks out the door.

The silence continues for several minutes after she leaves. Finally Quentin speaks, "Well, it's clear to see where the apple came from."

Giles removes his glasses for a good polish, "Quite. Quentin, I'm not sure she's not right, though. Why aren't we talking to her neighbors? Why aren't we tracking down Spike's old haunts? We can do so much more..."

Quentin regards the man before him solemnly. What should I tell him? How much should I say? There's so much more at stake here. Apocolypse comes to mind. Still, if she's found in time... Carefully, he sets his tea cup on its saucer. "If I let you go, you will practice discretion? You'll keep the mother from saying more than she should?"

Giles peers at him closely. "You've met her. You know as well as I do that she will not be controlled or manipulated." And neither will I, he thinks. He's had enough of this cloak and dagger behavior regarding his Slayer.

"I agree, which is why you must be ... cautious in your dealings with her. I don't want to hear stories about a mad American raving about monsters in the streets. The Council doesn't need that kind of attention."

"I will exercise the utmost care. Now, I believe I should catch up with Mrs. Summers before she gets too far ahead of me. Excuse me."

"Of course. I expect to hear from you by half six. Don't disappoint me, Rupert."

Giles eyes Quentin once more. With a slight nod, he turns and exits the room. Quentin slumps back in his chair as the door clicks closed. The tapestry behind him stirs briefly as a figure steps into the shadowy room.

"Follow them. Make sure they find no connection to the Council."

The figure starts to fade back behind the tapestry.

"And, Drago, tell your mistress that we need to speak. Now."

Prompt: Doctor - Rex Morgan M.D. in Sunnydale

2008-07-13T14:44:04Z

Rex carefully shut the door to the exam room, wearily resting his forehead to the door.

“Doctor,are you all right?” June stood behind him in the hall.

He swallowed a sigh and turned. The concern on her face was clear. Understandable, it had been a very odd day.

“Fine, June,” he replied.

“She didn’t break out… into… song… did she? Like the others?”

Rex winced, closed his eyes. The memory of old Mrs. White creaking out an aria about her incontinence was now permanently burned in his brain.

“June, please cancel the remainder of my appointments. Just don’t… sing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: Rex Morgan, M.D. is a long running newspaper comic strip in the US. I don't usually read it, but for some reason, this seemed like the perfect place to insert him into the 'verse. *grin*

x-posted to open_on_sunday

Drabble Prompt: Flag

2008-07-09T15:22:22Z

Posted in open_on_sunday

“You can’t get me to talk! I won’t! And if I do, how do you know it will be the truth? Even I don’t know what the truth is.”

Xander eyed the blonde boy tied to the chair. “Right, Colonel Flagg. You keep yourself in a state of utter confusion.”

“I…! What?”

“Xander, the little blonde weasel isn’t going to be intimidated by some obscure pop-culture reference. Let me at him,” Anya narrowed her eyes in Andrew’s direction. “I’ll get him to sing like a canary.”

Andrew blanched and scrunched down in the chair. Pilfered cookies weren’t worth this interrogation.

Writing Progress

2008-06-17T15:48:16Z

The Good News: There's progress on "Full Circle!" Yay!!!! And it's good!

The Not So Good News: It's waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay out of sequence and I'm missing big gobs of stuff that has happened between when we left The Seer rubbing her hands with glee on a London street and ... well... where I am right now. So no posting updates yet, but soon.

More Good News: I'm going to be taking some time off from work for a few days (That's what we call "vacation," Self) and hope to get some serious writing done - on this and other things (work on "Angel Between the Lines" has started! Wha-huh? Go check out Buffy Between the Lines if you haven't already to get an idea of what's going on.).

The Bad News: There isn't any bad news! Woohoo!

Drabble: Bow (2)

2008-06-16T19:42:35Z

It's All About the Tie

#1
Gently she tugged his bow tie into place. For as long as she could remember, he always wore a bow tie. He wouldn’t be him without one.

She smoothed his hair, touched a palm to his cheek, grazed her mouth over the cold lips set in a serene smile ... shuddered. Even with his glasses and the art of the funeral home’s director, he didn’t look like he was sleeping. He just looked ... dead.

Silently she laid her hand on his chest and said one final farewell. As she turned, she didn’t see her grandfather’s eyes open and flare to life.

#2
She comes awake in confusion. It’s dark. She finds the switch and the fluorescents flicker to life. She’s in a shop of some kind. The others slumped around the main room start to stir. A feeling of familiarity settles over her, but she can’t put her finger on...

A man lying on the counter rolls and falls to the floor, breaking her concentration. A girl screams. He recovers with an astounding agility. She steals a glance at Counter Man.

Bow tie? she thinks. That’s kind of dorky… but still...

Idly she thinks how his mouth tastes of tobacco and whiskey.

originally posted to open_on_sunday

Drabble: Truth or Consequences

2008-06-04T02:52:29Z

for open_on_sunday - Prompt: Auto
=====================================================

It was automatic, this lying.

“I’m fine.”

When she was first called, it was one of the first skills she’d perfected. She lied to everyone.

“I’m glad to be back.”

Even when she could finally talk about her calling, lies just felt more comfortable.

“No, you’re right. I need to be on my own. Go back to London.”

It seemed natural to lie now, no thought to it at all.

“I can handle it.”

So then, why was Spike the only one she wouldn’t lie to? Since when did honesty become their hallmark?

“I think I was in heaven.”

Welcome to the Middle Ages: Complete!

2008-05-01T05:23:25Z

-Rating: PG-13
-Medium: Fanfic
-Titles: Welcome to the Middle Ages
-Setting: S6 after “Once More with Feeling” (I have taken a brief liberty with the timeline relating to certain relationships)
-Pairings: Spike/Buffy with a brief appearance from Drusilla

-Summary: Buffy goes to a local SCA* event to stop a demon plot to turn Sunnydale into an actual kingdom and runs into Spike instead.

-Disclaimer: Neither the SCA nor the characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer are mine. I take no credit for any of that – just inspiration. ::grin::

-Author’s Note: The SCA is the Society for Creative Anachronism. It’s a world wide group that recreates the Middle Ages in modern times. There is a definite hierarchy within the group and, lately, a greater degree of authenticity from when it started in the 60s. For more information go to www.sca.org. As far as I know, there are no actual demons in the SCA. ;)

Originally posted at seasonal_spuffy

************************************************************************

“So… wait… these people dress up like… what? King Arthur and the knights of the round table and whack each other with sticks?” A look of incredulity passed across Buffy’s face. “These are adults? Not kids?”

Giles grimaced at her description, but replied calmly, “Essentially, yes. The members of the SCA portray the middle ages of primarily Western Europe to varying degrees of accuracy. They do hold medieval styled tournaments and practice some of the arts from the time, but that’s not the point. It seems the Sunnydale group has been infiltrated by demons who take the game a little too seriously.”

“Yeah, you said they want to turn Sunnydale itself into a real fiefdom or something. And how do they want to do that again?”

Willow piped up excitedly, “They want to hold a real tournament for the crown and the winner will crown his consort queen and they’ll rule Sunnydale together. It’s so romantic! Just like a fairy tale! Only… well… except for the blood and mayhem… oh…” Her enthusiasm abruptly died with her final thought. Tara placed a comforting hand over hers and murmured soothingly to her.

Buffy grinned. “Blood and mayhem is my specialty. So how do I get in? Is there a secret password or something?”

“Troll,” Anya replied succinctly.

“Beg pardon?”

“Troll… you ‘troll in’ by paying an admission fee. Normally in other groups, the ‘troll’ is a human. The idea being reminiscent of the troll under the bridge in the Billy Goats Gruff – a ridiculous fairy story if you ask me, those goats were asking for it. But Sunnydale being what it is, has a real troll collecting their fees.”

“And did you date this one, too?” Xander asked acerbically.

“I don’t think so… no… I didn’t date this troll. I think I knew him from the French Revolution though. I’d have to check with Haley. We knew so many people back then.”

Buffy stared at Anya in disbelief and then decided to let the comment pass. There was just too much about the ex-demon that she didn’t want to know – relationships with trolls being one of them. “But if it’s a real troll, how do they stop it from bashing in heads and such?”

“It seems that the local group has a very active demon population that drew up a … a… contract of sorts among themselves. All differences between species and tribes and clans and what have you are set aside for the duration of the event or meeting and no blood shed occurs. That’s what makes this current threat within their ranks somewhat disturbing. Either one of them has gotten fed up with the current status quo, or a group of them has banded together for the power to actually bring the middle ages to Sunnydale. It would be best if you were to attend an event and find out more information,” Giles responded.

“Do I hafta?” Buffy’s lack of enthusiasm rang through the Magic Box.

“We’ll go with you, Buffy. Provide some… s-s-support and help you get some info,” Tara stammered.

“Yeah! We’ll go with you. I know a great place where we can find gowns to wear so we fit in. It’s a costume shop… just on Main…”

“Oh, no! No costumes! You know what happened the last time – we were attacked by an evil frat house! And before that… well… let’s just say, I don’t want a repeat of the Ethan Rayne Halloween trick,” Buffy replied adamantly and shuddered delicately.

Giles stepped in. “It’s the only way to attend the event, Buffy. You’d have to be dressed appropriately.”

“But…”

“I must insist, Buffy. If you’re to find out any information at all at this event, you must blend in.”

“Fine,” she capitulated. “But can we verify that Ethan Rayne is nowhere near Sunnydale? Please?”

**********
Buffy tried to get a good look at herself in the tiny mirror provided in the “Ladies’ Changing Room.” If she stood just right, she could see a patch of gold brocade and red ribbon. And if she stood this way…

“Oh! Oh, no! No way! I am not going out in this … this… get up!” she exclaimed whirling away from her reflection.

Willow turned in her direction, bringing Tara with her, hanging onto the laces at the back of her gown. “Why? What’s wrong with it? You look … Oh… um… yeah… well… so it’s a little revealing…”

“A little? You call this a little? I have a… a… shelf! I mean, look at this!” She gestured to her cleavage. “It’s like… defying gravity.”

Tara peered over Willow’s shoulder. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of Buffy’s bodice encased torso, but she diplomatically muted her verbal reaction. “I think you look… nice. The gold really brings out your… eyes.”

Buffy glanced at Tara wryly. “My eyes, huh? Do you really think people dressed like this back then? I mean, can you see them doing ordinary activities in a get up like this? I feel like I’m going to pop out of it.”

“But you’re not going to be doing ordinary activities, Buffy. Remember what Giles said? Everyone in the SCA is presumed to be minor nobility,” Willow responded.

“Well, then how come you’re not overflowing your… ahem… Will?”

“Um… well… I…” Willow glanced down at her own modestly covered chest. “I guess … um… I don’t know.”

Tara stepped in, “That’s because I’m not finished lacing you up. Now breathe in.” With that she gave a strong yank on Willow’s laces. Willow gasped.

Buffy’s eyes widened. “Hey! Lookit you,” she said. “I don’t feel so exposed now. Right… so are we all set?”

Tara tied off Willow’s laces and smoothed the skirts of her own gown. “All set.”

“Right… all set… I just wanna…” Willow tried to steal a peek at herself in the mirror.

“You look fine,” Tara assured her.

Buffy grinned and opened the door. “You both do. Now, shall we go wow the kingdom with our special brand of amazing beauty and charm? And maybe get some info in the bargain?”

*************
Spike strolled around the torch lit list field casually, his helmet hung cavalierly from the end of his rattan sword. He was looking forward to thrashing a bit of demon carcass to relieve some of his tension. That kiss… it still threw him every time he thought about it. Sure, it was easy to think it was some after effect of that very weird singing and dancing demon, but he knew better. They collided into that kiss, had been building towards it ever since Buffy…
He drew a deep breath, shying away from the thought. It still pierced him through his guts to think about what she went through when she… And her mates… they didn’t even think…

“My, my, Sir William, such a scowl. And on such a lovely night, as well. Whatever has your hose in a bunch?”

The falsely sweet tones came from an attractive lady standing near. Spike swore under his breath. The last thing he needed tonight was to run into the Mistress Lettice, yet there she was. He could feel the tendrils of her vengeance power curling around him, searching for an opening.

“Mistress Lettice,” he responded politely, adopting the civil tones and genteel accent of his society persona. It wouldn’t do to rile Lettice so early in the evening. He’d been warned by the king once already. He swept her a lavish bow.

Lettice smirked and returned his bow with a mocking curtsey. “It is good to see your manners have returned, Sir William. And all it took was a little chat with the king. How extraordinary.”

Dropping his persona’s civilized air briefly, he replied, “The king only said I had to be civil, Lettice. He didn’t say I had to be happy about it, or that I had to put up with you beyond the bounds of politeness. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a man to see about a sword.”

“Fine. I don’t want to hold conversation with you anyway. I will never understand what Drusilla saw in you. But then she never was quite right, was she?”

Spike briefly considered unleashing his demon just to get a scare out of the old biddy, but thought better of it. What did he care what the demoness thought about Dru. His Dark Princess was gone – out of his life forever. She’d made that clear enough. Everything he did now was for Buffy, his Princess of Light. Just then, he caught a glimpse of a new lady over Lettice’s shoulder. There was something familiar about her, the way she moved, the glint of blonde hair in the torchlight…

“Bloody hell!” he exclaimed.

“I beg your pardon? Really, William, if you can’t behave with a modicum of decency…”

Her complaint dragged him out of his surprise. He decided to change tactics with her. “Excuse me, Lettice. I thought I saw someone I would rather… um… right… why don’t we go for a bit of a stroll… this way…” Unceremoniously, he looped his free arm through hers and started to lead her in the opposite direction of the blonde in the red and gold gown.

Lettice set her heels and held her ground. “Unhand me this instant! I will not go anywhere with you. I’ve been used once too often by you to avoid some … some… brazen wench.”

Spike risked a look over his shoulder. Looked like the Slayer was headed off somewhere else. What he couldn’t suss out was why she was here in the first place. He wouldn’t have pegged her for the romantic medievalist type. He turned his attention back to his reluctant companion. “Yeah, right… I’ll be on my way then. Sorry to have bothered you, Lettice.” He sketched a quick bow and disappeared into the crowd of spectators watching the combat.

Lettice scowled after him. “Infuriating vampire.”

**********
Buffy, Willow and Tara strolled through the event site taking in everything with varying degrees of enthusiasm. It was clear to Buffy that this was not the first event Willow and Tara had attended. Sure, they could have met any number of the members through UC Sunnydale, but that didn’t explain how comfortable they appeared to be in the gowns, or how they seemed to know the basics about the group.

“Tell me again how you guys heard about this?” she asked, gesturing to encompass the event.

Willow grinned, “A guy in my history class – Ragnar… only in class he’s called John. Anyway, we got to talking and he mentioned that he was in this medieval recreation group. He told me a bit about it and it sounded interesting, but what with … everything… I didn’t have the time until now…”

“And with the rumors floating around now… well it’s our duty to help you solve the mystery. R-r-right?” Tara finished.

“Besides, I want to see if I can talk with a couple of people about the uses for various plants. Tara and I were having a debate about magical and medicinal properties of valerian and… Oh, my god! Isn’t that…? I think it is!” Willow’s enthusiasm reached near piercing squeals of excitement as she looked across the list field. “Tara! I think that’s Mistress Lettice Peyton! Her treastise on the various methods to make wine in period was just… um…”

Buffy smiled indulgently. “So she’s like a rock star or something?”

Willow nodded excitedly.

“Then go. Be all fan-girly. I think I can handle this info gather now that I’ve got the lay of the land.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before Willow gave a delighted little squeal and was off like a shot. Tara threw Buffy a rueful glance, “You’re sure? I could stick with you… help you…”
“Nah. I’m good. ‘Sides, somebody’s gotta keep an eye on Willow. It’s nice to see you guys all cuddly again. Things have been kinda tense lately.”

“Tense? I don’t know what you…”

Buffy shrugged Tara’s comment aside. “Seriously, go. I’ll be fine. We’ll catch up say in … an hour?”

“An hour… okay. Meet you in the hall where the dancing will be?”

“It’s a plan.”

Buffy watched Tara as she hurried to catch up with Willow. She saw the two of them link arms and head in the direction of an amazingly arrayed woman with some sort of vine-like leaves around her head and trimming her gown. Beyond the three, she caught a glimpse of the list field.

“Ooh! Weapons!”

**********
Spike drew on his helmet as he entered the field to face his opponent. He eyed up his foe – a Kralkrak demon going by the unlikely title of Lord Henry Dunwitty. They’d fought a time or two before and were pretty evenly matched in the lists. Still it had been sometime since Spike last picked up rattan, he might very well be in for a challenge today. Perfect!

The list marshal called out the honors and then came the cry, “Lay on!”

The two fighters circled each other for a little, looking for an opening. Finally, Spike saw what he was looking for and swung his great weapon towards Henry’s left shoulder as the shield dipped a bit. Henry was prepared, though and deftly blocked the blow while striking a glancing blow off Spike’s helm with his sword. And battle was engaged. Soon the air was filled with the clangs and thuds of helmets and rattan meeting. The fighters’ grunts of exertion mingled with the crowds’ murmurs of appreciation and polite applause. The bout lasted longer than several of the previous fights, but it wasn’t long before Spike took advantage of a moment of distraction and struck a solid blow to Henry’s legs. Henry dropped to his knees.

“Do you yield, Lord Henry?” Spike asked jokingly, knowing full well what the answer would be.

“Hell, no! Do you?” Henry quipped jauntily.

Spike laughed in reply and readied himself to deal the final blow. Just then, Henry let out a low whistle and turned his head to look at something to the left and just a little bit behind Spike.

“That’s not the Slayer here is it? Man! She looks … well for a human that is… wow…”

Spike involuntarily turned to look, just for a moment to glimpse a bit of gold and red through the grille of his helm. That moment of inattention was all it took for Henry to deal a blow to his legs that rattled him to the ground. He barely had the time to mount a quick defense before Henry started raining blows to his torso and arms. The other fighter was sloppy, though, and none of the blows were hard enough to wound, let alone kill. Finally, Spike was able to maneuver himself into position to bring his weapon around with enough force to strike the final blow against Henry’s helm. The demon made a show of his “death,” reeling in place for a few seconds before falling straight back from the knees, arms flung wide. A ruffle of laughter went through the crowd. Spike hopped to his feet and offered a hand to his defeated foe.

“Winner: Sir William the Bloody!” the marshal bellowed as Spike removed his helmet and bowed to the crown and then to the crowd.

He heard the shocked gasp as he straightened and looked straight at Buffy standing by the list ropes. He grinned wryly and made his excuses to Henry.

Buffy glanced wildly about as she realized he was coming her way. Unfortunately, she was hemmed in on all sides and there was no where to run without making a scene.

“My, my, my, what have he here?” he taunted as he came up to her. “Don’t you look … fetching?” Reaching out, he ran a gauntleted finger under a lock of her hair and let it fall decorously across her chest.

Annoyed, Buffy brushed his hand away. “Stop it. What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? Better question is what are you doing here? Bit out of place, aren’t you? Never pictured you for the fancy dress kind.”

“You’re impossible,” Buffy groused. She turned and made her way out to the edge of the crowd, leaving Spike no other choice but to follow.

When they reached a clearer spot she stopped and spun to confront him. “So? Why are you here, and dressed like that? And did that guy really call you Sir William the Bloody?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve been with this group for a while. It’s a good way to let off steam, yeah? Nothing like real fights out on the streets, but good enough. And he called me that ‘cause its m’name, right?”

Buffy raised an eyebrow at him. “You mean you’re a regular member of this group of… of…”

“SCAdians? Yeah. What of it? They’re a harmless bunch. Historical nuts mostly. Some just can’t let the old days die. And it’s fun.”

“Harmless, huh? So then I guess you don’t know that there’s rumors of someone wanting to take over the … barony? Is that right? Whatever… This guy… guys want to take over the group and really bring the middle ages back. I’m trying to find out info so we can stop it ‘cause feudalism… not of the good.”

Spike scowled slightly. “That can’t be right. I mean, yeah, there’s always a demon here or there sayin’, ‘If I were the baron I would be a real baron and have a fighting unit to be feared,’ but real feudalism? I don’t know.”

“Either way, I need to follow up and get some intell. Just every time I try to ask questions, I get … stonewalled… or blank stares. I’m beginning to think this rumor is just a rumor,” she replied grumpily.

“Always possible, pet. Smoke doesn’t always mean fire… at least not on the Hellmouth.”

“Yeah, it could just mean some nasty green thing just horked up something gross,” Buffy replied flippantly.

A green scaled demon dressed in a full replica of Henry VIII’s Holbein portrait standing nearby overheard the comment. “Wasn’t me! Just because you humans don’t understand our kind, doesn’t mean you need to just assume that the steaming pile of goo next to you is from us!” he exclaimed before stomping off, the plume on his hat flouncing indignantly.

“What’s his deal…? Ew!” Buffy cried as she neatly side stepped the goo mentioned by the demon.

“Don’t worry about it, Slayer. He’s just touchy because he thinks he lost the A&S competition,” Spike explained.

“The what? No! Don’t bother. I don’t think I need to know. I do need to know if this rumor is accurate or not, though.”

Spike considered the crowd thoughtfully before arriving at a decision. “Tell you what. You wait for me in the hall while I change and I’ll introduce you around. We’re notoriously closed mouthed in this little group of ours when it comes to rumors. Havin’ me by your side, may give you just the extra something you need to get answers.”

Buffy looked at him in slight disbelief. “Why?”

“Why what? Why would I help you or why are we closed mouthed?”

“Both. It’s not like we’re friends. Not really.”

Spike winced slightly at her brutal honesty. “Ouch, Slayer. Careful with those barbs. Person could get hurt.”

“You’re not a person, Spike.”

“Look, you want my help or not?” His face held a mixed expression of exasperation and hurt.

Buffy ducked her head and examined the pattern of her brocade skirt. “As much as I hate to admit it, I need your help. I just don’t want you to think… after… you know…”

Spike inhaled sharply and peered down at her bent head. “Not about that. Okay? That was… well… I don’t know what that was, but we’ll talk about it… later. This is separate. It’s different. I can help you. You just need to trust me, yeah?”

Looking up at him, she thought a moment. Then she nodded her head briskly, just once and agreed. “Fine. You’re right. I’ll meet you in the… hall.”

Decision made, she strode in the direction of the building she had come from a few minutes before. Spike watched her go with mixed parts of anticipation and anxiety.

*************
As she strode off, Buffy could feel the heat of his eyes on her back. She knew the minute his attention turned elsewhere. She didn’t want to acknowledge the low hum of anticipation beginning to build in her gut, but couldn’t ignore it completely. Spike was here. Spike’s lips were here. Lips of Spike. As much as she had tried to forget about it, the kiss they shared a few nights ago kept replaying itself in her head. The heat, the passion, the sheer feeling of being consumed and yet not – she couldn’t let it go. That bugged her. To no end. It was Spike for God’s sake! Spike! Evil, undead, chipped-wonder, stupid Spike! And yet every time her mind wandered back to The Kiss, she was swamped with the maelstrom of emotions and sensations the memory alone surfaced. She didn’t know what would happen if she kissed him again. She’d just know it was a fluke. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe The Kiss was as amazing as she remembered it.

“Argh! I wish I could just kiss him again and remember exactly what it felt like! Just so I could get over it already!”

Across the list field, Lettice raised her head from the intense debate she was involved in with Willow about the magical properties of herbs mixed with wine. She tilted her head to the side and listened quietly. Then, touching the pendant hanging from a finely wrought chain around her neck, Lettice smiled slightly and murmured, “Wish granted.”

*****************
Striding into the hall, Spike scanned the gathering crowd dressed in their finest medieval garb for Buffy. The sight of rich fabrics and luxurious furs registered dimly in the back of his brain. Every so often, a jewel that sparkled a bit too brightly to be paste would catch his eye. It was common for the demon members to wear their more authentic pieces to dress events like this. Demons liked to show off and on the rare occasion, a profit could be turned here or there. You never knew when a rare item of power would make an appearance casually disguised as a gaudy brooch or an extravagant necklace. But nothing distracted him from his hunt for the Slayer.

Soon, over the din of the musicians tuning up for the dancing, he heard the not so dulcet tones of his quarry arguing with a very gallant Frouyarla demon. He turned in their direction and took in the scene. Chuckling, he realized that the Slayer was being presented with a cloven fruit and dealing with the quaint custom none too delicately. Silently, he moved through the crowd to make his way over to the couple standing in the arched doorway of a decorated alcove.

Dressed in what could only be described as "high fop," the Frouyarla demon proffered the orange studded with cloves with a hand covered in scales. The scales were repeated on his exposed skin and green antlers protruded from his head. His eyes glowed red, sharpened teeth filled his mouth, yet his voice was soft and gentle as he repeated his explanation to the shocked human before him.

"I will not kiss you!" Buffy exclaimed, just as Spike strolled up to her side. "Spike! Tell him. I don't go around kissing strange... ers... strangers!"

"But, m'lady," the demon protested, beside himself with disappointment.

Ignoring Buffy's demand for the moment, Spike addressed the demon. "What seems to be the problem, Gareth?"

"Ah, good day to you, Sir William. I was just trying to introduce my new friend here to the most pleasant custom of the cloven fruit. Yet she refuses! Perhaps you could explain the custom a little more clearly? I fear in my... eagerness... I wasn't too clear," Gareth replied. He returned his attention to Buffy with an alarming leer. "She is most beauteous."

Buffy bristled visibly and started to draw back her fist. Spike caught the movement and hurried to restrain her. He laughed, nervously. "Ah, no, pet, not a good idea. Forgive her, Gareth. She's new to the SCA and doesn't know our little traditions."

"Tradition? To force a kiss from a total strange..."

"Force? Oh, no, m'lady! Not force... it's just... the tradition..." Gareth started to explain again.

"Is harmless, pet. Call it an ... ice breaker," Spike jumped in. "Simply a civilized way for interested parties to introduce themselves to the ... objects of their affections... or to renew a ... deeper... relationship."

"With fruit?" Buffy questioned, her eyebrow lifting skeptically.

Gareth jumped in, "Exactly! I hand you the fruit, thusly." And he once again extended the cloven orange. "You accept it and take one of the cloves - with teeth or fingers. And then you..."

Spike hurried to finish the explanation, "... either offer your hand, cheek, or ... lips... for the appropriate salutation."

"You mean a kiss..."

Gareth breathed a sigh of relief as Buffy appeared not to be ready to raise the hue and cry again. "Exactly. A kiss..."

"But you don't even know my name!"

Spike stepped in, "Since when did you come over all missish?" At her annoyed look he gave in, "Right... Lord Gareth of the Marshes, please meet ... Anne of the Summer, new to our society and its ways. There. You're properly introduced. Satisfied?"

Buffy rolled her eyes at him and accepted the fruit from Gareth's outstretched hand. She delicately plucked a clove from the orange and extended her hand to Gareth. "Pleased to make your acquaintance," she muttered.

Gareth's shoulders slumped a little at the site of her hand extended towards him, he had hoped for her cheek at least, but the hand was better than nothing. With a fantastic flourish of his cape, he gently took his hand in hers, bowed and offered a dry kiss to her knuckles, marveling at the thrill of power he sensed just from that faint touch. When he straightened, he touched his fingers to his brow and looked into the human's upturned face. Whatever gallantry he had planned to spout off, died on his lips at the look of utter boredom and contempt in her eyes. Instead, he muttered a hurried goodbye and scurried off to a friendlier corner.

Spike watched him go with a bit of sympathy, "Poor bugger. Still. It's Gareth. He'll find some new filly to play with."

Staring at the studded fruit in the palm of her hand, Buffy grimaced at it. "Now what do I do with it?"

Spike leered and touched the tip of his tongue to his teeth, "I could think of a few things, Slayer."

Buffy shot a quick glance at him. Flushing, she returned to her contemplation of the cloven fruit. "I suppose I could just conveniently leave it on a table..."

"Sorry, love. Not done. You have to keep it or pass it on."

"And to pass it on I have to have some total stranger kiss me? Again?" She wrinkled her nose at the fruit.

"Doesn't have to be a total stranger, pet." Spike moved in to close the distance between them, gently walking her backwards into the alcove until her back bumped gently against the wall.

Buffy looked up at him, her eyes wide as she read the intent in his eyes. He slowly lowered his head to catch her lips with his. She panicked and brought the fruit up between them.

"Fruit?" she stammered.

Spike grinned. "Fruit indeed." So saying, he straightened and took the offered fruit from her palm.

He examined the orange a bit, turning it slowly, this way and that. He was amazed that she was so skittish, but he watched her carefully under his eyelashes. Buffy watched his hands in return as he played idly with the orange. She was mesmerized.

"Such a small thing," he said softly, addressing the orange. "Yet it holds such ... promise... such... power. And there are so many ways to interpret it. I could simply accept the fruit and kiss your hand."

He matched his actions to his words, gently raising her hand to his lips. He raised his gaze to hers. Blue eyes pierced hazel as he brushed her knuckles with the lightest of touches.

"So many ways to kiss a hand... the chivalrous brush of the back of the hand." He kissed her knuckles lightly again, his thumb lightly stroking the top of her fingers.

"A more reverent kiss to the palm..." Buffy drew in a sharp breath as he turned her hand over and touched his lips to her palm. He smiled at her reaction. She felt his lips turning up against her skin.

"Daring..." he breathed as he delicately licked the sensitive center of her palm.

"Sensuous..." Buffy's gasp became audible as he lightly nibbled his way to the racing pulse in her wrist. She nearly drew away, but he read the thought in her eyes and straightened after a last lingering kiss.

Buffy's breath came fast as he leaned in. Her mind was jumbled and she couldn't find words to protest.

"On more intimate acquaintance, the cloven fruit can be an invitation to greater liberties..." he breathed, continuing his instruction.

"A lingering kiss on the cheek..." Buffy jumped slightly when his lips met her cheek. She held her breath as he moved from her right cheek to her left, his breath soft against her mouth.

"And we mustn't forget the brow... this lovely brow, so smooth, but lately furrowed with worry. No worries for you today, my pet," he soothed, kissing his way from her cheek to her forehead.

"The ears..." he murmured, tucking her hair away from her face, revealing the pink shell of her ear.

"Ears?" she squeaked.

"Oh yes, the ears... specifically, this soft, tender spot right behind..." He nuzzled that spot as he spoke. Goose-flesh rose on Buffy's arms at the soft vibrations of his voice, his mouth on her flesh.

"And my favorite place... the crook of your neck... here..." Spike drew a finger along the side of her neck to where her throat met her collarbone. Buffy shivered and then sighed as his mouth followed that finger. She knew she was playing with fire, but the sensations he was raising in her were more than anything she had felt since... since... She lost her train of thought completely as he sucked gently. Her eyes fluttered closed. Her head tipped back to give him greater access. She moaned at the pleasure. He growled softly in response. His demon roared, demanded to be set free, to drink deeply of the Slayer at its mercy.

Shakily, Spike stepped back and put a few inches of distance between them. He drank in the sight of her, willing, aroused, slightly tousled. It took all of his control not to unleash his demon. She opened her eyes slowly and searched his face. As though it were his cue, Spike raised the fruit to his mouth and slowly pulled a clove from the orange. He took his time, slowly nibbling the stem of the clove, releasing the cleansing oils into his mouth. His eyes bore into hers, his intent clear. Buffy gulped audibly.

Spike removed the clove from between his teeth, casually tossed the fruit over his shoulder and dragged her into his embrace. This time, he was successful in his quest to claim her lips. Cool lips met warm lips and captured her gasp released in surprise and surrender. He reveled in the sound.

Buffy was assailed by the taste of him. Tobacco, scotch, and clove – they overwhelmed all other thought. Vaguely, she registered the sound of the crowd just beyond the archway. Dimly, she remembered she was supposed to be searching out the truth of a rumor that threatened the existence of Sunnydale. But it all paled to nothing beside the memory of scorching passion from the first kiss, triggered and all but overwhelmed by this embrace. Just for a few moments, once more the world she was ripped back into melted away and she was just a girl, free from responsibility, duty, and care. He gave her this and she welcomed it whole heartedly. She gave herself up to the sensation.

Spike hardly dared to believe his good fortune. It seemed the Powers That Be were finally smiling on him again. That could be the only explanation available for finding a warm and willing Slayer in his arms. Her kitten-like mewlings rang in his ears like laudatory hymns. She returned his tentative caresses with urgent thrusts and caresses of her own. Her hands were everywhere, learning his shape. And he gloried in it.

****************
Willow picked up the discarded orange laying forlornly on the floor. She eyed the item curiously.

“What’s that, Willow?” Tara asked coming up behind her and wrapping her arms around her lover’s waist.

“I don’t know. I found it on the floor, just outside this alcove.”

A low moan issued from beyond the archway.

“What was that?” Willow asked. She started to approach the arch. Lettice stepped in front of her, blocking her passage.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing to be concerned about,” she said. “What do you have … Oh!” She gave a delighted little laugh. “Definitely nothing to be worried about. Just a harmless little tradition we have involving cloven fruit and … kissing.”

“Kissing?” Tara eyed the fruit a little closer, frowning slightly. “It’s not a spell is it? I mean, you don’t eat the fruit and then go around randomly kissing people? Do you?”

“Oh! Oh! Is this like a take on the poisoned apple thing in Snow White, only… without the poison and lots of good…” She broke off as a distinctly feminine gasp was followed by a gruff, male growl. “Oh… maybe we should…”

“Yes,” Tara stuttered, “Let’s go look for Buffy. We still don’t have any information about that…” She glanced at Lettice, who returned the look with an amused expression. Tara continued, “That … thing… you know, Willow. The thing?”

Lettice’s expression never wavered. “You might want to take the orange with you. Oh, don’t worry, it’s nothing magical. Just a quaint little tradition. You see, you trade the cloves studded in the orange for kisses. It’s a way to break the ice…” Another muffled cry of pleasure sounded behind her. “Or instigate other … pleasures,” she finished.

Willow and Tara exchanged a look. They looked at the orange and then at Lettice.

“Run along, my dears,” she chuckled. “You don’t have much time. Go. Have fun.”

Giggling, they ran off with their new treasure, their friend and mission forgotten for a brief while.

Lettice smiled indulgently. The witches were sufficiently occupied. The Slayer… she grinned at the sound of another moan from the alcove… the Slayer was out of commission for a little while. Time enough at least for her to set the rest of the pieces in place and see to the fruition of her plan. It was all coming together so nicely. Plus, she had been able to fulfill a vengeance wish in the bargain. Oh, yes. It was shaping up to be a good…

“Mistress of the Grape, gloating so soon. You shine with your darkness.”

Lettice suppressed a shiver that ran down her spine as Drusilla came into view. “Drusilla.”
The lithe vampire offered her a graceful curtsey. If there was an edge of mockery to it, Lettice ignored it.

“Your wish has been granted, Drusilla. We have no more dealings today,” she pronounced.

“My wish? My wish,” Drusilla mused. “My wish is the moon’s wish. She wants them to dance and twine. The Dark Prince and the Shining One. But their dance will cause him pain. Cause them both pain. Pain will be their music. Oh, yes. My wish.”

Lettice eyed the vampire askance as she tripped away. “As you say.”

“Mistress Lettice, you owe me an explanation.” A male voice rumbled in her ear.

Lettice turned and looked up. “Oh! Your Majesty!” She bobbed a quick curtsey. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I am displeased, Lettice. I have heard some disturbing rumors.”

“Rumors, your Majesty?” Lettice fluttered. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean the old rumors that surface now and again about turning Sunnydale into a true feudal state.”

“Oh… those rumors… um… there’s nothing…”

“I know there’s nothing to them. Do you know how I know?”

“I couldn’t say,” Lettice responded faintly. She had a very good idea though that she knew what he meant. Why had she allowed herself to be drawn into this crack-brained scheme anyway?

“Let’s just say, I squashed them. The rumors that is. The parties spreading them have decided to leave Sunnydale. Suddenly. For a long time.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. I would suggest that you consider an extended vacation yourself. Starting now.”

Lettice paled. “Yes, your Majesty,” she stuttered. “Of course, I’ll just…”

“Now, Lettice.”

Lettice glanced at the archway and the rise of voices from the shadows. “But…”

The king followed her gaze. He grinned. “I’ll take care of this little situation as well. Never fear. Now off you go. You have a portal to catch.”

***************
In the shadows of the alcove, Buffy tore her mouth away from Spike’s. “Did you hear that?’ she asked.

Searching her face with kisses, he denied hearing anything. He wanted to recapture the magic of their embrace. He was sure with a little more … coaxing… his Goldilocks would be quite content to find a more secluded spot for their explorations. He nuzzled at her neck.

“Buffy,” he breathed into her ear.

Her knees buckled slightly, but she was distracted enough to resist. She pulled away from him and stepped towards the arch.

“No, Spike. I think I heard… there were two women talking… just outside.” She stepped closer. She gasped. “Drusilla! What’s she doing here?”

The name was like a bucket of ice water to Spike. “Dru?” he exclaimed in hushed tones. “Here? Now? But…”

Buffy turned to look at him. He looked like a guilty schoolboy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The thought chilled her. A little longer and he would have had his hand in her cookie jar. And then a word from outside caught her ear.

“A wish?” she hissed. “This was all because of some stupid vengeance wish? What did you do, Spike? What did you say?”

“Me?” he hissed back, offended. “I didn’t wish anything. I know better than that around Lettice… or any vengeance demon for that matter. Too much can go wrong with wishes.”

“Wait… Lettice is a … a… vengeance demon?” Buffy was flabbergasted. “And what we just did … just here was just part of some… wish? But… why? And how is Drusilla involved? What have you two been cooking up?”

“Cooking up? Me? With Dru? You’ve got it all wrong, pet,” Spike started. He drew up beside her and laid a calming hand on her arm. “I haven’t seen Dru in … well… for almost a year now. Cut her out of m’life. Remember? You were there.”

“Right… you had me chained up,” Buffy replied. Her head tilted to the side. “So not helping your case.” She shrugged his hand from her arm.

“But I had to show you… I … Buffy… I love you. I did then. I do now. More than ever. You’re in my blood.”

“Gross, Spike.”

“Truth, Slayer,” he responded, letting his annoyance show. “But right, you can’t handle truth.”

“You wouldn’t know truth if it kicked you in your overly peroxided butt!” Buffy retorted.

“Me thinks the lady doth have it right there, Sir William,” a rich male voice interjected from behind her.

Buffy spun and crouched in a fighting stance.

“Give over, Darius. Can’t a man quarrel in peace?” Spike quipped. “You might want to stand down, Buffy. You might not come out on the winning end of fight with this one.”

Buffy got a closer look at the figure in front of her. He was of average height, dressed richly, and looked human enough; still one couldn’t be so sure in Sunnydale. “Who are you?” she demanded, noting irritably that her interlude with Spike – magic caused or not – had definitely thrown her off her normal witty, banterful self.

The man in front of her swept her a majestic bow. Buffy wondered idly if no-one in this group did anything normally.

“Darius, currently of the kingdom of Caid, at your service, m’lady.”

Buffy cocked a skeptical eyebrow. Spike snorted.

“Currently of Caid, indeed. Buffy, this is Darius, his Majesty of Caid, and a right pain in my arse for the last 30 years or so.”

“King? Of… what now?”

“Caid. Or this part of California. I had heard we had some newbies at the event, but just now became free form my duties,” Darius replied. “I trust Sir William has been keeping you … entertained.”

Buffy flushed as he took in her appearance with a knowing glance. “I… he… that is… there’s a rumor.”

Darius chuckled, “There are always rumors. Let me guess. This one involved someone wanting to take over the barony and bring true feudalism to Sunnydale?”

“Yes,” Buffy replied uncertainly. “That’s what I was told.”

“Dealt with,” the king replied. “I’d be a lax monarch if I let these rumors become reality. Wouldn’t I?”

“I suppose so,” she replied. Buffy felt a little let down. She was ready for a fight, but now, it seemed, there was no fight.

“So you can continue with whatever you were doing… and no worry… your secret is safe with me.”
Darius laughed a little again. His laugh rolled over the couple like warm brandy – exhilarating and mildly intoxicating. Buffy took a hesitant step towards Spike.

Spike visibly shook himself. “Oy! Darius! Control that power of yours, will you?”

Buffy snapped out of her sudden trance. “What? Wait… he…” She glared at Spike. “Enough with the magic and the wishes, Spike. Get over it. That kiss was a one time thing. You… me… we’re never…
Argh! Why do I even bother!”

On that incoherent note, Buffy stormed out of the alcove.

Spike watched her go, bereft. “But… Buffy… it was going so well…”

Darius took pity on the distraught vampire. Throwing his arm around his shoulders, he led him out of the alcove. “Come, my friend, we have mead to drink and cares to drown.”

Bewildered, Spike let Darius lead him away. Behind him, he left the memory of a Slayer – Buffy – ignited with passion in his embrace for another day.

Fini

Drabble: Prompt - Destruction

2008-04-08T03:09:00Z

So, she thought as turned and ran without heed to her surroundings, This is what it looks like – the destruction of self-confidence – an eyelash caught under an eyelid, irritating and blinding.

So, she thought as she watched him disappear into the rain, This is what it feels like – the total destruction of hope and trust - like ground glass churning in my stomach.

So, he thought even as he denied what he was seeing on the screen, This is what it tastes like – the destruction of the last vestiges of love – bitter and dry as ashes in my mouth.

x-posted to open_on_sunday

Question to those out in the Whedon'verse

2008-04-01T03:55:37Z

Drusilla - was she ever killed? I know Angelus set both she and Darla on fire... Spike nearly staked her for Buffy... but was she ever actually killed? And if so, when? I'm having a hard time putting my fingers on the necessary references. *sigh* I think it's time for bed.

Any help you can give will be greatly appreciated! In 6 minutes I will have 15 days to finish this story for Seasonal Spuffy (including getting it beta'd). GAH!

100 Words: Prompt: - Dark

2008-03-30T21:35:47Z

Dark were those days
Filled with loss and pain
As the demon wept
And the witch denied
And the Watcher watched
Each alone in the dark of their grief.

Dark were those days
Lying in the grave
Covered with earth and grass
The mortal vessel corrupted
Yet the soul
At peace.

Dark were those days
Ripped from the grave
Deafened by the sound
Blinded by the sights
Of Life thrust unwelcome
To the one newly raised.

Dark are these days
Empty of emotion
And the only way to feel
Is to embrace the
Demon, the monster,
And finally find
Release.

x-posted to open_on_sunday

Drabble Prompt: Equal

2008-03-24T14:37:45Z

She just didn’t understand it. They were the same, weren’t they, essentially? They had the same strength, the same speed, the same mission. Then why was it, every time it came down to a choice, it was Buffy who was always Chosen? Why was it Buffy they turned to? And why was she the one left behind, always playing second fiddle?

These were the thoughts that ran through her mind as she listened to them make their plans. Her only comfort was that in the end, she would be the Chosen One, the one without equal, the Mayor’s Best Girl.

x-posted to open_on_sunday

Full Circle: Part 3

2008-03-23T14:41:21Z

Title: Full Circle
Rating: PG for now
Medium: Fanfic
Setting: Early Season 3 and then it goes wildly AU after that

Summary: What would have happened if Buffy met with Spike instead of Lilly in “Anne?” Where would it have taken them?

Author’s Note: Huh... okay... this story has moved much further beyond traditional Spuffy. I hope you all continue to enjoy it.

Disclaimers: Spike, Buffy and the Buffyverse are not my creations. They are the glorious brain children of Joss Whedon. Any liberties I take with the characters and the ‘verse are ‘cause he’s indulgent towards his fans. Some of the diner dialogue is directly from the original episode, “Anne.” The general concept of Drusilla leaving Spike for a chaos demon isn’t mine either. That’s from “Fool for Love,” Season 5. I didn’t write or create either! Please don’t say I did.

===================================================================
Part 2 Here

“Let him know what, Will? All we know is where she is. And do we really want to be telling crazy broody vamp that? For all we know, she’s just as crazy as he is. I say we wait. Wait until we know what’s what. Then, if we have to, we can tell Angel.”

“But… what if… Xander, what if knowing that she’s been found can help him? Bring him back to the way he was… before…”

“You mean before he went all psycho and had to be put down like a rabid puppy, or before he got sucked into Hell? ‘Cause either way, I’m not too comfortable with it.” Cordelia crossed her arms defensively in front of her and cocked her hip in classic afraid-but-not-going-to-show-you-how-much stance.

“Cordy’s right, Will. Even if he can be brought back to … well… I guess normal, there’s no telling what will happen when he sees her again. What if they slip up and make with the big ol’ moment of bliss thing? Then we’re right back to where we started. And I don’t know about you, but that’s so not where I want to go again. Giles’ll back me on this. Right, G-Man?”

Giles purses his lips at this last and frowns slightly at Xander. He polishes his glasses. “Yes, quite. I think the wisest course of action is to wait to tell Angel anything until we know exactly what’s going on. Now I need to go and speak with Joyce and make the arrangements for our trip.

“Faith, continue with your routine patrolling. Report anything unusual to Wesley.”

“Got it covered, G. Standard ops ‘til you get back. Anything weird, pass it on to Junior here.”

Wesley bristles at the taunt, “I say.”

“Meant nothin’ by it, Wes. When are you goin’ to get used to me, huh?” Faith flashes a brilliant smile at him and hops down from the library counter. With a final quip, she saunters out of the library and into the night.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He shivers in the darkness, shaking with hunger and a barely contained rage. He doesn’t know why he’s angry, or really where he is. He just knows the hunger and the rage. They consume him, fill his world with red and darkness. Now and again he is haunted by visions – past victims, past torments. Three times a day he is brought back to the real world by the visitors. He knows he should remember who they are, but the knowledge slips through the tangle of his mind like sand through fingers. They bring him food and make sure he’s safe from the sun, from other predators, from himself. They haven’t gone so far as to chain him, but he heard them talking, the boy advocating locking him away. Would today be the day? He didn’t know. He didn’t really care. He just needed to feed… to maim… destroy. Yet something always held him back when they came.

Suddenly he lifts his head from his hands. He sniffs the air, the predator in him flaring to life. Was it her? No… it was the other one, the dark haired one. Similar, but so very different. Why didn’t She come? Had she abandoned him? Was she afraid? Where was she?

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Faith wanders into the main room of the abandoned mansion. Well, not quite abandoned. It’s where Angel lives… exists… whatever. She comes to check on him every night. He’s a riddle to her – the vampire with a soul. The concept goes against everything her first Watcher had ever taught her about vampires, what she herself had learned about vampires night after night from the East to the West Coast. Angel was a … what was it Wesley told her? Yeah… a paradox, two things that shouldn’t exist together, yet they did. And how weird was that?

Quickly she scans the room. As usual, he’s tucked away in the shadows of the room, far in the corner.

“Hey, Big Boy,” she calls to him, gently so not to rile him, learned that the hard way.

He growls low in his throat. The beast is fighting for control of him. She’s not sure how much longer they’ll be able to keep him tame, contained. A frission of fear skitters down her spine, but she ignores it. She’s ignored those lizard brain warnings since she was a kid. No use starting to heed them now.

She holds up a brown paper bag. “I’ve got your dinner here, Angel. Why don’t you come and get it?” She knows she’s playing with fire, but that’s what she does. Goosebumps rise on her arms even so as he approaches.

The moonlight isn’t kind to him. Its silvery light reveals his ravaged face, limning his gauntness in stark definition. He steps cautiously towards her. Time has taught him that sudden movements or a rush towards her for any reason invites a violent response that leaves him aching for days. Still, he welcomes those aches. It reminds him that he’s in this world; that he needs to make an effort to live in it. Something in her stance warns him that today is not a good day to test her good graces, so he stays alert and cautious.

Faith relinquishes the bag to him and steps back as he tears open the package. She’s nothing to him now as he gulps down the life giving blood she’s brought him. His intensity fascinates her. She supposes on some level she should be disgusted, but she’s not. This is his dark nature. It calls to a matching darkness inside her. She wonders if this is what Buffy saw in him, what attracted her to him. She still couldn’t quite get her brain around it – a Slayer and a vampire? Lovers? It defied all reason. And yet many things in Sunnydale defied reason, logic and just sheer common sense. Maybe it was the Hellmouth. Sure there were demons and vampires and weird things all over the world, but it was just brought to a new height here in good ol’ Sunny-D.

“Still, I can see what she saw in you once, at least. You’re one burnin’ hunka-hunka,” she muses out loud. As usual, he grunts at her voice and turns to shield himself and his precious blood from her eyes. It’s as though he doesn’t want her to see him in this state. “Right… leave you and your blood alone. Well, I gotta go patrol. Try stayin’ out of the sunlight in the morning, okay? You’re lookin’ a little singed around the edges.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“When can we leave? Now? Today? I’ll need my passport and … and… Oh, Mr. Giles, do you really think they’ve found her?”

Giles polishes his glasses. “I believe they have. The circumstances are unclear on exactly how she got to London under the Council’s radar, but they believe they’ve located her. We have a flight to catch in the next few hours, so please hurry.”

Joyce stops her frantic pacing and turns to regard him – this man who knew so much more about her daughter than she did. “You’re worried, too.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Yes,” he doesn’t lie. There’s no need. “There’s something else… something the Council isn’t aware of. I have word from a … connection that there’s some sort of spell aimed at Buffy. I’m not sure of the true nature of the spell, but the fact that we now know it’s there… well, that’s a help. It means whoever has cast it is growing weaker. We have a chance.”

Joyce sits down abruptly in the chair behind her. “You mean magic and … and… monsters?”

“Yes, I’m afraid I do.” He crouches down beside her, puts a gentle hand on her shoulder, “Are you sure you want to go? This isn’t going to be easy – for any of us.”

She looks into his face, reads the tension and worry in the lines there. “She’s my daughter. I have to go.”

He gazes back at her a minute, then nods. “Right. I’ll wait while you get your things.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

London

The sun is just disappearing over the horizon. It’s been a long day, cooped up in her flat with a crazy vampire who vacillates between raving and gibbering most of the day. She was able to grab a half hour to herself when she ducked out to the shops to buy some things for lunch, but he was so agitated when she returned, she didn’t dare suggest going out to find something for tea. But now he’s ready to go, ready to be on the move.

“Come on, Buffy. Must go! They’re coming. Must get to Ripper.”

“All right, I’m coming just let me…” she pulls against his hand to lock the door. “There. Now we can go. Where are we going, anyway?”
He doesn’t answer, just pulls her after him, down the steps into the shadows of the early dusk. It’s taken too long to get her away. He can feel them coming closer, ever closer. The shroud surrounding her is getting darker, thicker. It’s hard to make out her natural glow, but it’s still there, he can sense it. He just needs to get her to…

A creature steps out of the shadows. It’s shadowy and human in form, but there’s something not right about it. Spike steps in front of the girl. The creature is joined by another, then another and another until there are six of them surrounding the pair on the sidewalk. The call to each other with clicks and musical trills. Spike can make out their faces now. Fear tries to paralyze him, but he won’t let it. He’s got to protect the girl. She’s seen them by now, too. She tries to make herself small behind him, but they’re all around. She can’t hide. Beside her she hears a roar and then it’s all a flurry of limbs and bodies and the sickening crunch of bone as he tries to defend them. But there are too many and within minutes, they are captured and borne away into the night.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The Seer steps out into the night and breathes in the night air, the sickening stench of garbage and diesel pollution. She hums low in her throat. It is a good night. There is death and terror on the wind and she knows she is the instrument of it. She strolls down the street towards the meeting place. How she will enjoy making that trumped up excuse of a god pay for this little trinket she carries.

Halfway to her destination, she stops and takes stock. She reads the vibrations on the breeze. The Watcher and the Mother. Ah now here’s a wrinkle she wasn’t expecting. The surprise of it pleases her. She’s almost never surprised. Perhaps they will play into her plan, help her forward her goals. Now wouldn’t that be grand? The Seer chuckles to herself, the sound travels up the spines of passers-by and makes them hurry on their way – as far away from the strange looking angular woman as they can get.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Continue on to Part 4

Drabble Prompt: Palm (somewhat controversial)

2008-03-19T18:36:16Z

The palms waved joyfully above the heads of the men in the little procession. The shouts of the crowd filled the air. He rode the ass placidly, smiling and waving calmly to the crowd.

Looking up, he spied Her again gracefully tracking the procession from the rooftops. She had been with them since they entered the walls of the city – a distant presence. He had met another like her three years ago in Galilee. He hadn’t fully understood what She was, like that girl before her, this one shone with a purpose. He nodded, acknowledging Her – one Savior to another.

A/N: I couldn't resist writing this after reading the previous drabble about the vampires in Jerusalem when Jesus rode in on the ass. I figure if they were there, the Slayer was very likely there as well. I apologize if anyone is offended by the view I took.

x-posted to open_on_sunday

Buffy Fanfic Writers/Betas

2008-03-19T16:38:05Z

Hey gang! I have a quick question: What would be the best way for Buffy to mess up the word "fiefdom?" Or should I leave it as is? (The story I'm writing is based during S6.)

Thanks!

(And I'm still working on Full Circle... not to worry!)