“I’m not Angelus! I have my soul!”
“I have a soul and I’m still Spike.”

I have to say, I was quite disappointed by Insane-Soul!Spike. I know that the FE was greatly responsible for the insanity, but I always hoped that Soul!Spike would be pragmatic and still Spike, you know?

Sunday100 Lull

Afterwards, they lay tangled in cheap motel sheets, unwilling to move or talk.

It had all started out simple enough. Hellmouth closed, battle over, two Slayers pulling a Thelma and Louise. Seemed like as good a plan as any, with one on the lam and one at loose ends.

Faith didn't expect it to turn out like, well, this. Not that she had any complaints, really. It was just... confusing.

"You want to explain what just happened, B?" Husky words snapped the silence.

Buffy shrugged a little and gave her an enigmatic smile. "There's a first time for everything, Faith."

the great chess game of making sure everyone gets to the right place at the right time, it's fun

Glory placed her foot carefully on the ledge around her big bathtub to avoid the blood spatters. Gosh, but who would have thought a skinny pizza delivery guy would gush so much when he got his throat cut? Still, nearly all the blood landed in the tub and not on the walls. The spots on the floor would come off easily enough. She'd have to remember to have tile installed when she got home.

"Wave harder," she told Dreg, who stood next to her with a bundle of burning herbs. "I need to get a clear picture." She peered down into the pool of blood.

"You do remember that you're blocked from scrying out the Key yourself, don't you, your lusciousness?"

"Duh, I know the rules. But I bet I can find the Slayer, and where the Slayer is, the Key will be."

Images formed in the blood, but they were blurry. Wheels turning, a highway, but when Glory tried to focus on details, they faded off into a red mist.

"Stupid wimpy blood." She petulantly stabbed the body a few times with her ornate dagger. "Dreg, go get somebody else. That annoying woman across the hall with her yappy dog."

Dreg peered into the tub. "It hasn't clotted yet, most holy. Perhaps they're shielded from scrying."

"Maybe. I'll try for Gregor and his band of merry men." She ran the tip of the dagger through the still-liquid blood, clearing the images. "Come on, Greggy, show me that tattooed face."

The image appeared with depth and clarity, a man in armor surrounded by Knights of Byzantium. The man was studying a map as someone wearing a monk's robe instead of the typical armor pointed to a spot.

Glory reached down to push on the body in the tub, forcing out more blood. "Give me sound, fella, just a bit more."

The voice faded in. ". . . our scryers cannot see the Key itself, General, but they have shown that the Slayer and her entourage will be in this location at dawn tomorrow. That puts the Key far away from where the Beast needs it. The gate cannot be opened, and the world will be safe."

The general threw the map at an underling. "Our order does not exist to play hide and seek with the Beast, Brother Maynard. Our order exists to destroy the Key. When I asked you and the clerics three days ago to scrye the future so that we could pinpoint the Key's location at the crucial hour, it was not to check to see if the Slayer had tucked it away somewhere safe. It was so we could find it and destroy it. We have not travelled this long since then not to finish our holy mission. Tell the troops to saddle up, we must reach this convent of St. Eugene before tomorrow's dawn."

Glory leaned back and beamed in delight. "I love guys who give speeches. So, where's this convent?"

Dreg looked at the other minions, who all shook their heads. "I don't know, most glorious of gods."

"Hmph." She leaned down to poke the corpse again, but no more blood came out. "Go get Mrs. Hooper across the hall. Bring her dog, too. I've got a convent to find."

"I love guys who give speeches

Finally a use for General Exposition!

Go get Mrs. Hooper across the hall. Bring her dog, too.

I'll get you and your little dog, too!

My but you give good Glory.

I don't like Glory. Weirdly, she freaked me out the first time we saw her, with the guard, but, went downhill fast from there. I like connie's Glory much better.

Sunday Drabble.

Ghost

Last night, your mother slept in the bedroom at the end of the hall.

She was shaky, but recovering; the improvement was steady. They'd taken the shadowy threat from the parietal lobe of her brain. The bandage was long gone; the hair they had shaved had grown back.

Last night, she'd gone on a date. You'd teased her, both of you; you'd watched her blush. She'd fussed over her clothes, absurdly nervous, somehow reversing the pair of you, her children real and unreal, into the role of parent.

Tonight, you trail through her house like ghosts of her lost life.

Deb, that made me sad, but in a lovely way.

Oh, man. OUCH.

That's about the most painful, tear-making, painful, painful thing I've read in a long time.

Sorry. I'm in full relapse mode tonight and am feeling physically fragile. Also, being mother's day, I got to spend some quite wonderful time on the phone with my daughter this morning. And I was at a wonderful wedding last night.

Combination of things. But a decent piece, as drabble? I thought it was.

Plei, insent awhile back.

But a decent piece, as drabble? I thought it was.

Darn right it was, and more. I'd say it was the best kind of painful, in fact.