maybe twenty minutes and a lot of....later?

Mmm. Good point. Thanks.

I'm sputtering with laughter over here.

That's excellent for my self-esteem, which has been taking a self-inflicted beating lately. Thanks!

Nope. It rocks. SA, check your LJ - I'm offline in a moment because Nic needs the computer.

This week's Sunday 100? A slash challenge.

So.....

Reverie
(Angel/Wesley, no spoilers)

He touches me.

I've wanted him from the day I walked through Giles' library doors and saw him move out of the shadows, sleek, elegant, a brooding desirable ghost. He wore black; he always does. In my dreams, I strip the layers of black away to reveal the pale cold skin beneath.

He doesn't know that, of course. He doesn't know, or notice, or give a damn. Why would he? He has all the world and half history to choose from. He's had danger and delight. He's had the Slayer.

Tonight, he touches me. And he has his first Watcher.

Woof.

Nice, Deb. Very nice.

Okay, Deb. You inspired me to drabble.

Penance (BTVS S3, Giles/Angel)

He remembers every moment he was tortured by Angelus. Every scar, the ache in his fingers on rainy days, even the sunlight hitting his floor at just the right angle at just the right time of day – all reminders of an infinite sliver of time that Giles can never forget.

Then Angel returned from Hell. Angel, not Angelus, inhabiting the body that inflicted such torture. Searching for redemption, which finally brought him to Giles' doorstep one night.

It doesn't allow him to forget, not for an instant. Still, Giles enjoys every moment of penance he exacts as he's buried deep within Angel.

The Resurrection Gambit

Epilogue: The Sun Never Sets

London, 2023: Buffy wiped the soot of a night’s patrol in London off her brow, and put a kettle on the stove. She had trouble believing that she used to make fun of Giles for this. Now, she didn’t know how to get through a day without it. Funny, that.

“I’ve lived in London too long,” she thought. “Maybe it’s time to go back to America for awhile.”

She used words she never thought she’d use. Spent more time filling out paperwork than slaying vampires. When the mood struck her, she haunted museums and theatres. A few weeks ago, some of the younger girls dragged her out dancing, and acted like it should be some life-changing experience for her. She enjoyed herself more than she let on. Her life had gotten strange, she thought, but no stranger than spending an evening trying to talk a vampire out of jumping off a bridge.

It had all worked out OK once she convinced it that it probably wouldn’t die , anyway. Then, she got it to one of the halfway houses Giles had set up in Brixton.

She figured soon she should stop calling them, ‘it.’

It was nearly 5 a.m., so Giles would likely be up and working already. She put another tea cup on the tray, and ventured up to his office. He was negotiating on the phone with Wesley as to how much money they’d need to pull off this part of the stunt.

“Helping vampires readjust,” she thought, rolling her eyes as she placed the tray down on Giles’ desk. “Bloody Hell.”

As soon as she thought, she realized she’d definitely been in England too long. She smiled. Giles smiled his “thank you” smile, and then went back to bickering with Wesley over money. She knew it was mostly sport—between the council’s resources and Wolfram & Hart’s, money was never an issue. Still…

Spike had returned to Los Angeles with Wesley. He felt he had a lot to sort out. Willow was away, too—traveling with Xander and Dawn for awhile. They wanted to see up close what they’d done. She figured it would be awhile before she heard from them. If it was like any of Xander and Dawn’s other travels, she’d be getting scattered postcards from Katmandu and Nairobi.

Connor and Oz took charge of Darla and Drusilla. The monks weren’t particularly pleased with the situation, but it wasn’t the first time they’d taken in a thing that went bump in the night. From what she’d heard, Darla was adjusting…well. Not brilliantly, but well. At the very least, she was behaving herself. Connor seemed to be a moderating force on her. Drusilla? Drusilla was locked up. Nothing would help her, but Oz still sat with her almost every day. He seemed to think she wasn’t a lost cause. He’d just sit there, and listen while she ranted at him. This seemed to soothe her.

Angel also accompanied Connor home—wanted to spend some time with his son. He wasn’t sure what he’d do next. Not that any of them were, really.

There were battles left. Some of the vampires were increasingly violent, others, well, they were almost silly. Vi had found one crying at the National Gallery, in front of a Van Gogh exhibit, screaming, “What have I done with my life!”

There were battles still. Battles she wasn’t used to fighting. That none of them were used to fighting. But for now, the war was over.

My drabble entry: Leather Love

"Oh," Andrew flapped his hands. "Angel's like Gamera."

"Not following, sweetcheeks."

Andrew sighed. "Gamera, flying turtle?"

Lorne raised an eyebrow and waited.

Andrew recited the facts in a bored, sing-song voice. "Boys are kidnapped, taken to another planet, brains gonna be sucked out, Gamera rescues them." He rubbed the leather lovingly. "Get it? Angel? In Pylea?"

"Sure, babe." Lorne cocked his head. "Angel's back, put the coat down now."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"I…I've got a woody." Andrew whispered.

Lorne took the coat from Andrew's unresisting hands and led him toward the stairs. "Let me show you what to do with that."

Oh, Victor, that's wonderful.

Oh, Victor, that's wonderful.

Thanks, although I suspect I'm too much of a sucker for a more-or-less happy ending.

"Oh," Andrew flapped his hands. "Angel's like Gamera."

BWAHAHAHA!!! Lorne's making our little Andrew a man BWAAHAHA!!!

Thanks, although I suspect I'm too much of a sucker for a more-or-less happy ending.

Nonsense! Why the hell else do we have to put up with Hope having slithered out of Pandora's Box if not to have the occasionaly more-or-less happy ending?

Anyway, next post, more V!Giles.