Yay! For Spred!
Today's 100 is Fantasies. Today's pairing (though really, it's just Angel/Hand), is Angel/Fred.
Sunday 100, Grip.
Maybe Wes would understand, if he wasn't so busy fucking Lilah. Even if he wasn't, Angel wouldn't tell him about this latest obsession. Some things just aren't meant to be shared.
Gunn would probably agree.
He can hear her, screaming, demanding, growling as the thin veneer of civilization slips, can hear the squeaking of the mattress and the slamming of the headboard. Can almost taste her thick, hot blood on his tongue. He closes his eyes and lets the sea scent of sweat and sex surround him, closes his fist around his cock, pumping to the throb of her pulse.
The sound of bells led the wandering Scoobies around the last curve in the road. A small valley opened up, with fields of crops filling most of the space and an old Spanish mission occupying the rocky area at the head of the valley. An orange orchard shaded the buildings.
"Oh, this is pretty," Joyce said, looking out. "How peaceful."
Buffy grimaced. "I bet they're really going to appreciate us showing up."
Spike squinted through the painted windows at the people in the fields. "Not all of those are human."
Giles craned his head up as far as he could while staying out of the sun. "The last time I was here, a family of Minoto was here, waiting for word on relatives in San Francisco."
"Minoto? Scaley sorts with stubby tails? That could be what's out there, but they're all wearing hooded robes."
"Minoto don't like the sun."
"Fascinating as this National Geographic special is," Xander called from the driver's seat, "what do we do? Just drive up to the front gate and say hi?"
"Essentially," Giles answered. "Be careful of the chickens. Buffy, the Mother Superior is called Sister Agnes Gabriel. She knows--knew me, she would be the one to talk to."
Buffy sighed. "How much do I tell her?"
"Everything. With the Knights so close, we don't dare put the convent in danger without warning them."
Xander drove carefully through the old wooden gates, watching for livestock trying to throw themselves under the wheels. The adobe walls surrounding the courtyard were bright with whitewash, and the gates themselves, while old, were in good repair. Directly across the courtyard were the open doors of the chapel, heavily carved in the original mission style but also well tended.
There didn't seem to be a parking area, so Xander just stopped the bus in the middle of the courtyard. A group of nuns gathered at tables in the shade under a grape arbor at one end of the courtyard got to their feet, staring. One of them came forward.
"Buffy, you're on," Xander said, opening the door.
With a deep breath, Buffy got out of the bus, trying to avoid the chickens now regathering around the wheels. She didn't have a lot of experience with nuns and wasn't sure if she was supposed to kiss a ring or anything.
The woman coming towards her had a dark weathered face under the wimple that covered her head. It seemed like a nice face, except for the surprise and confusion there now.
Buffy put on her best smile. "Hi, I'm looking for Sister Agnes Gabriel."
"I am her," the nun said.
"Hi. I'm Buffy Summers. Rupert Giles said you might be able to help us."
A little more friendliness appeared on the sister's face, along with a little more suspicion. "You know Rupert Giles?"
"Uh huh. Known him for years now."
Sister Agnes looked at the bus. "Is he with you?"
"Yes, he is, and that's kind of a long story."
As she tried to think of a place to start that would explain the situation without alienating the woman, Sister Agnes looked at her closely. "You're the Slayer," she said softly.
"You know about that? Oh, of course you would, Giles said this place was a sanctuary for demons, so you probably know about all sorts of weird stuff. "
Sister Agnes smiled and touched Buffy's cheek. "Calm, child. Tell me why you're here."
Buffy took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then began to talk, never taking her eyes from the nun's face. Sister Agnes frowned at mention of Glory, then again at the explanation for Dawn's presence, both in the world and at the convent.
"If we can just stay out of her way until after sunrise tomorrow," Buffy said, "then the world's safe, and we can work out the rest of what to do about Glory. But we've also got these Knight guys after us, and I think they followed us here, and we're very sorry about that."
Sister Agnes thought for several moments. "Where is Mr. Giles?"
Buffy remembered Spike saying that the Eugenians didn't like vampires. Well, technically speaking, neither did she, what with the job title and all. She thought of trying to talk her way around the inconvenient truth, but Giles himself had recommended being straightforward. And she really hated the idea of lying to this nice lady who didn't look at her like she was crazy or bad or a freak.
"There's kind of a problem with Giles. If he comes out into the sun, he'll go poof. And we kind of need him unpoofed."
Sister Agnes crossed herself. "He's--he's a--a vampire?"
"Yeah. And we have another one with us, too."
"Two vampires? But--you're the Vampire Slayer."
"Like I said, it's part of a long story. Look, if you don't want us here, we'll more than understand. Being around us right now isn't the safest thing, and I don't like dragging innocent people into this. But we need a place to hide until after dawn tomorrow. Do you know of someplace, hopefully close by?"
The nun studied her. "You're exhausted, child. How long have you been up?"
"Everybody keeps harping on how I need to sleep. I got some sleep on the bus, I'm fine."
"Of course," Sister Agnes smiled. "How many of you are there?"
Buffy started ticking off fingers. "Me, my mom and Dawn, Xander and Anya, Willow and Tara, Spike and Giles. Nine of us. Too many, I know."
Sister Agnes patted her shoulder. "We have lots of room. Lots of beds, if anyone wants to get some rest. You said your mother and one of the girls were ill?"
"Well, Mom's doing a lot better, and Tara's not too bad, except for her hand and her mind--and you're going to let us stay?"
"No one who has asked for sanctuary has ever been turned away."
Buffy hadn't known how tired she was until she finally had a reason to relax. She wobbled, but Sister Agnes pulled her into a hug before she could do anything so unSlayer-like as fall over. Buffy hugged her back, grateful for the thick cloth of the nun's habit, which absorbed tears before anyone had to notice them.
Wonderful!
Two itsy things: orange grove, not orchard, I would thnk. And, "I am she," not "her".
"I am she" is grammatically correct, but "I am her" is more colloquial. I don't want Sister Agnes to be too well-spoken.
Are there any common orchards in that part of California? I'm strangely enamored of the word orchard in that context.
Hmmm. Connie, the central valley does have nut orchards (walnuts and almonds, mostly), and also cherry tree orchards. They go back hundreds of acres from the highway.
But I'm not sure how far south they grow.
