Cordelia: I get it now. You're all spies. Probably all Russian. And you've brainwashed me, and want me to believe we're friends so I'll spill the beans about some nano-technology thingy that you want. Gunn: So I look Russian to you? Cordelia: Black Russian. Angel: That's a drink.

'Hell Bound'


Buffista Fic: It Could Be Plot Bunnies  

Where the Buffistas let their fanfic creative juices flow. May contain erotica.


Am-Chau Yarkona - Jan 12, 2003 2:47:05 am PST #1028 of 10001
I bop to Wittgenstein. -- Nutty

Steph, here you go. It's a start: not a good one, but a start. I’ve folded the space-time continum so that New Moon Rising took place before Epiphany. It’s so much neater that way. POV skips a little, but ~~~ should make changes clear.

Prologue:

There was another reason I had to leave Sunnydale. Something I hoped no-one would ever know. If Darla had been around then, she would have seen it; but she didn’t come back for a while. So it was that the flaw went unnoticed.

Sure, I loved Buffy. I still do; it’s my fate, my destiny. The trouble is that fate has a way of going awry, and the plans the Powers make don’t always seem foolproof. It has to be said that they may not have bargained for one as foolish as me. Looking back, I think I’ve destroyed- no, bigger than that. The thing requires a swear word. (What would Spike say?) Bugger. I’ve buggered it up, well a truly, in every sense of the word.

I’d been aware that I was attracted to him, the few times we’d met. He had a raw, animal power in him, tempered by a calm, clever mind. While there was Buffy, though, I was blinded, as if I was looking at the sun- a very apt simile, in fact, given how she burned me. Then I moved away, stepped out of the sunshine, and any little glimmer of light became that much more welcome.

~~~

One:

I’d never really looked at Angel before I took the ring to him. We barely spoke then- neither of us are great talkers- but I realised I knew what Buffy saw in the guy. At the time, I thought I was merely seeing that he was good looking, and more envious of his looks that of those who could have him. Now I’m less sure.

When I realised Willow and I were never going to work out, when I knew about Tara and her, when I left Sunnydale for what I think will be the last time, the first place I headed for was LA. I don’t know what I was thinking- maybe it’s just that LA’s the first big road out. Living in Tibet taught me to take some of these things as they come, not to analyse them too much.

He’d moved, but I found him easily enough. The demon underworld all knew who and where he was. When I got to the hotel, it was starting to rain, and I was glad to find the door unlocked. Nobody was in the hall, although some things seemed out of place, so I guessed they’d been called out on a case. I was just about to hunt for the kitchen when I heard a woman scream upstairs.

Living in Sunnydale, you learn to run fast, and with my new-found control of the werewolves strength I’d started heading towards the trouble even when I was alone.

Upstairs, I found out why she’d screamed. In one of the bedrooms Angel and a female vampire- a blonde- were struggling on the bed. He seemed to be winning, but it looked close, and I figured that if I wanted to stay the night I might be better off with Angel than some random vampiress. I pulled the habitual stake from my pocket, waited until I had a clear view of her back, and dusted the creature.

Angel peered at me through the puff of ashes. “Oz?”

~~~

“Yeah,” the young man replied, calmly. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” That was my plan for the evening fucked. Can’t do the dirty with a pile of dust. I stood, brushing ash off my clothes, and tried my best to seem normal.

“Good.”

“Something to eat? There are doughnuts, I think, and some wine.”

“Donuts sound good. I’ll take a raincheck on wine.”

We head down, each wrapped in his own thoughts. Mine weren’t terribly rational, concerning themselves with my hard-on, the lack of Darla, and the good-looking man now with me. Heaven- or rather Hell- knew I’d taken Spike often enough when Drusilla wasn’t around.


Rebecca Lizard - Jan 12, 2003 10:32:43 am PST #1029 of 10001
You sip / say it's your crazy / straw say it's you're crazy / as you bicycle your soul / with beauty in your basket

Plei, I love it.


Connie Neil - Jan 12, 2003 10:39:40 am PST #1030 of 10001
brillig

Plei, you're making me miss Joyce all over again. I'm glad I haven't killed her. Yet.

Am-Chau, that's a very naughty opening. Poor Oz, caught with Angel pre-Epiphany. Good thing he's a werewolf, I think he's going to need that to survive.


shrift - Jan 12, 2003 10:47:33 am PST #1031 of 10001
"You can't put a price on the joy of not giving a shit." -Zenkitty

Whoa. I wrote.

Indeed, and it's wonderful.

I've been thinking about Joyce a lot lately when I think about BtVS.

I think it's because Buffy, Willow and Xander are the "adults" now, and while that's cool, how scary is that, really?


Connie Neil - Jan 12, 2003 10:48:29 am PST #1032 of 10001
brillig

Joyce would be proud.


Anne W. - Jan 12, 2003 10:49:09 am PST #1033 of 10001
The lost sheep grow teeth, forsake their lambs, and lie with the lions.

Silly question I need answered for a fic I'm writing. When you hang up the phone, what do you call the little button or buttons that sever the connection? I'm trying to describe someone tapping them to see if the connection is dead, or if he can get a dial tone.

Am-Chau, I like how you've set up the pairing, and given how important the Darla-shaggage was to Angel's journey, I'm looking forward to seeing what changes (and doesn't change) from this point on.


Connie Neil - Jan 12, 2003 10:51:46 am PST #1034 of 10001
brillig

I call it the switch or, sometimes, the cradle, because I remember rotary phones. (that could be a fun memory riff for Spike/Angel, remembering all the different types of phones they've seen making a note )


Anne W. - Jan 12, 2003 10:56:50 am PST #1035 of 10001
The lost sheep grow teeth, forsake their lambs, and lie with the lions.

Many thanks! (BTW, I have a Bakelite rotary phone from about 1940 or so that still works. It's funny to watch people confronted with a dial for first time in eons.)

I like the idea of Spike and/or Angel doing a memory riff on something like telephones, etc. Anya might be fun to drag into a conversation of that kind as well.


P.M. Marc - Jan 12, 2003 1:12:38 pm PST #1036 of 10001
So come, my friends, be not afraid/We are so lightly here/It is in love that we are made; In love we disappear

Depending on the phone type, it might be a talk button (cordless), otherwise, cradle works.


Elena - Jan 13, 2003 5:22:06 am PST #1037 of 10001
Thanks for all the fish.

I would google myself... Actually, I have, but my pen name is too common, and my actual name is too obscure. Still, I am a massive whore for feedback. Maybe I should try again.