Connie, you write a WONDERFUL Xander. Sooooo nice. V!Giles is creeping me out in this scene, being so similar to human!Giles but with the demon right under the surface. And Spike is just so...Spike.

Some stuff:

After a moment, the young man put his arms around Buffy...

"Though he is good," the red head mused further.

the blond vampire said quietly.

Descriptors like "the blond vampire" are much more jarring than simply using the character's name.

He remembered the night before, when Spike had appeared in his bedroom and Giles hadn't thrown him out. The partnership had its perks.

Mmmmmmm. Our little non-slash-writing Connie... ;)

"Well, I must admit, the responsibilities can be daunting, but we have a sworn duty to protect the world ..." He trailed off as he contemplated the inherent illogic of that statement coming from the mouth of a vampire.

Spike looked up at the night sky. "Oi, if you're readyin' a lightning bolt up there, it was him what said it!"

I just LOVE that exchange! Both for the tinge of pathos to V!Giles, and the Spikean humor.

"Cordelia mentioned there used to be a bridal path through here,

Should be "bridLE path."

Connie, this is amazing work. Love it.

As for me . . . I spent the whole weekend struggling with my current project, feeling very frustrated. Today at work there's absolutely nothing to do, and I had a bit of breakthrough on it. Although I may be hallucinating. But I THINK I'm not.

Bloody spellchecker.

I bow to thee, my Teppy. But how do you resolve not using people's names over and over?

But how do you resolve not using people's names over and over?

It's better to just use them. They're transparent. They don't even register. I know someone, somewhere, has a link to fanfic-writing tips -- NOT that you need them, but it mentions the name issue, and explains it better than I can.

They're transparent.

I've seen that explained, but it's never transparent to me. But that just might be my foible. Ah, pronouns

Buffy looked back and forth at the two of them. There were sub-texty things going on, things that made her think of stuff she'd read in the books about how vampires related to each other. The two--the two vampires looked at each other the way two people who knew each other pretty darned well would look.

Heh

Buffy glared at her friend. "Can we save the thirst for knowledge thing for later, Will?"

suh-NERK!

Xander had the disturbed expression of someone who sees the absolute logic of a proposition and hates himself for it.

Giles should talk to Xander about killing Ben… In the show, I mean. Because Xander would understand.

Xander blinked at Giles with a surprised, flattered look on his face, but he turned away before Giles could ask what he was thinking. He heard the young man's quiet mutter, though: "And it takes being the evil undead to let me know these things?"

True. True. And, also, True.

All Xander's male companions and role models disappointed him in one way or another. Though all men learned that eventually.

Sob.

"I liked the idea of him as a vamp, pet. I'm evil, remember?"

Yum-ME!

"Oh, yeah, it's not bad. And don't think he doesn't enjoy finally being able to get some good licks in on me."

Heh heh. It's funny because it's a double entendre, as it were.

And Teppy's right, the names of the characters, or just the pronouns, do become transparent. Macedon wrote a good fanfic guide. I'll see if I can track it down.

I like it,Connie. And it also makes me sad, but it's an angsty story so you're doing your job.

Connie rocks. Skipping ahead, because Lizard has inspired me to kickstart my Pornathology story again. This is at the beginning when Simon first meets Catherine:

Simon measured her, knew her with a raking appraisal. He listened to Catherine talk; he nodded and flirted and prodded, taking in everything that laced her conversation while letting the words themselves sluice through. He took in her arrogant little self assurances, the neurotic loops worn through her patina of charm, the caustic flashes of wit - often self-deprecating, the sophisticated nuance gliding between contraries, the rapturous sensitivity, the vulnerability and open emotion barely bridled. The bottom note, though, the thing that welled and threatened her wary equilibrium, the reason she was there, her fearsome truth, was pain. And worse, responsbility.

It was not a cold dissection. Simon braced himself as he threaded through each little tell. He felt a shrill panic rise in his chest as he felt the enormity of what he was going to do. He expected it though, the panic, he knew it, and ducked his head down momentarily as he talked, pinched the bridge of his nose, then came back up to meet her eyes, smiling. He read her like a thief going over a bank's blueprints. He was going to steal from her the thing she feared. And let it live within himself.

That is very, very beautiful, Hec.

Although t smack use the P'thology thread next time.