Nice drabble there, Deb.
My Sunday100, freestylin' it: Hereditary (G, Season Six)
Buffy ran a hand along Dawn's back. For a moment she was caught in reverie, remembering her mother doing this, when this year's Prada was more important than a destiny ever could be, and mom's touch brought her from crying over some boy.
Dawn shifted, and Buffy threaded her fingers through Dawn's hair, curling it around her ear. Dawn gave a tremulous smile. "Guess I'm carrying on the grand Summers tradition," she sniffled.
Buffy handed her a tissue. "Well, I can't say I haven't set a precendent," she smiled weakly.
"Why is it always *vampires*?" Dawn moaned, throwing herself backwards.
I failed to do Sunday100 again this week, because I managed to go out and do stuff instead. However, thanks to Doyle's X-Files Drabble Title Challenge, I have three to share with the class, and more to come.
Pilot
Cordelia looks out at the hand holding the knife, and wonders if the hand still belongs to her, if the mouth and actions don't seem to anymore. If it does, maybe she can make it write down some sort of clue for them to find.
It's like being trapped in a vision, only ten times worse, and she can't even tell anyone what she's seen. It pisses her off that whatever this... thing that's using her has them almost all fooled. A flash of the knife, and a soft thud, then there's no almost about it.
Deep inside, Cordelia screams.
Deep Throat
That's it. Yes. Harder. Soft, wet lips all the way to the base, chin brushing against balls. No need to breathe means no gag reflex. Superhuman strength comes in handy as well.
In a second, the fangs will come out, tearing thin lines of blood with each swallow. Riley's never gone this far, until tonight he never wanted to, but it doesn't matter anymore; there's no one who matters who'll see the marks, and he has a stake in his back pocket that says she'll never mention them to anyone.
Semen mixes with ash, and he just sits there, shaking.
Squeeze
One more girl tonight, two more sometime next week, lord knows how many more in the days to come.
Three bedrooms, one bath.
Buffy has started coming to work early and sneaking into the gym to shower. Cream rinse and shampoo live in her bottom drawer next to student files, and she keeps a razor in with her staples and paper clips.
Sometimes, it seems like there are more girls in the house than they could count on their combined fingers, even if she realizes that's impossible. They'll fit the new ones in somehow.
They always do.
They have to.
The Resurrection Gambit
Part Three: Safe as Houses
England, 2003: Faith and the vampire barreled out the second story window, and plummeted into the garden, below. Giles was almost annoyed at himself that his first concern was for the roses. But then, trying to trust Faith as he was, it didn't come easily.
Buffy was making short work of the other two vampires upstairs. The girls tried to leap into the fray, but Xander and Willow forbade it.
"It's not that you girls can't take care of yourselves," said Xander, "It's just that, this has the potential already for a too many cooks situation."
The girls looked dismayed.
"Don't worry," he said, "you'll all be iron chef undead soon enough."
"It's all in the knife work," said Buffy, decapitating one of her enemies and then impaling the other on the leg of an expensive looking table.
"Any good cook'll tell you that."
Faith appeared moments later in the doorway, covered in dirt and vampire dust.
"Someone want to explain to me how three vampires got into the fortress of humanatude here?" She looked directly at Giles. "Little words. Please."
Giles, leaned against the wall. It was very late, and he was very, very tired.
"I don't know," said Giles. "A step up in vampire attacks worldwide, and now this. And Spike's return"
Buffy bristled. Angel had called immediately to tell her that Spike was back, but had also informed her that Spike didn't want to see her straight away. That he needed some time to process. Giles viewed the situation, quite understandably, with mixed feelings.
"Xander and I will travel to Los Angeles tomorrow. We'll compare notes with Angel, see where things are with Spike. In the meantime, we all need some rest.
"I'm going to do a perimeter sweep," said Xander, "just to be sure."
"I'm in," said Faith. "No sleeping after that tussle."
"I'll bet," thought Buffy, but she refrained from saying anything.
Faith and Xander walked the paths of the garden that encircled the ancient British manor house. It was property owned by the Council, remote and expansive. Perfect for housing and training dozens of young slayers. Xander had joked that it should be called "Rupert Giles' Home for Gifted Youngsters," but Giles hadn't gotten the joke.
"You can shave your head bald! And I can be Cyclops!"
Xander figured his best material was wasted on Giles sometimes.
The girls had settled in nicely. Magic, money and political connections produced visas, and legitimate paperwork for the school. Dawn was enrolled with the slayers. Xander couldn't help but wonder what she'd have to go through to keep up with the other girls. He couldn't help but wonder what she'd become. He didn't dwell on it.
Faith was unusually quiet. At first, he wondered if she was going to make a play for him again or something. Or, conversely, gut him like a halibut. Neither was anything he was up for just yet. Anya's death was too fresh, and he didn't like being stabbed. "Call me crazy," he thought. "Just never developed a taste."
Faith froze in her tracks. Xander did likewise. There was a flash of light, and suddenly a fist was emerging from nowhere, plowing into Faith's jaw. Xander had shielded his eye from the flash, but as his vision cleared, he saw a beautiful, dark-skinned woman hovering over Faith, who was unconscious.
Xander pulled out a cross, and held it in front of himself. The vampire stepped backward, but she wasn't cringing.
"Is this all you've got, baby doll?" she said. "A house full of slayers, and this is the best you can do?"
"Back away from Faith," said Xander, edging forward. The cross was thrust forward with his left hand, a stake lay in his right, his fingers gripping so hard he feared bruising the bones.
"Oh, I don't know. Figure by now the witch has gotten some new wards up. Won't be able to get inside again, y'know?" The accent was Southern. Xander knew that much.
The vampire lunged, and Xander rolled, swinging the crucifix up wildly, connecting with her torso. The vampire screamed, flailing her arms at Xander. Xander drove the stake down, but missed the heart. She laughed, and swung her fist again, knocking him back against a tree. Stunned, he watched her saunter up to him.
"Mmm," she said. "This is going to be fun."
Suddenly, the vampire was thrown backward by a force Xander couldn't see. He turned his head, and there was Willow and Giles. Willow cocked her head to the side, and the vampire flew headlong into another tree.
"Tell us who you are," said Giles, calmly. "Why are you here?"
The vampire glared at Giles.
"I'm here to take your children, Rupert," she said, in a tone that would have been sultry if it hadn't been coming from, well, her. "The boy, the witch, the Slayer. They'll all be ours soon."
Giles looked like he was about to say something, but there was another blinding flash, and suddenly as she came, the vampire was gone.
Willow helped Xander to his feet, while Giles roused Faith. The four of them began stumbling back to the mansion.
"What the Hell was that about?" asked Faith.
"I'm afraid I have no idea," said Giles.
They walked a moment in silence, until finally, Xander broke the tension.
"Your children, huh?"
"After a fashion, I suppose," said Giles casually, as if it were no great revelation. "Oh," said Xander. "Wanna play catch?" "Not really, no." "Didn't think so."
