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

Oh, Steph. Dayum.

snerksnerksnerksnerksnerkGAMERA!ANGELsnerksnerksnerksnerksnerk

Buffy saying "bloody hell". Totally - wow. Damnit, Victor.

Connie, nice.

Victor, a wonderful end to the story. I love Buffy in London.

I'vemissedyouallsomuch

Victor, send me file, and I will put it up!

But, err, turnabout is fair play, and I wrote two with Wesley and I'm a little afraid to hear what you think, but I'm such a whore that I'll still ask.

When I am fully-recovered from HellHope, I shall comment.

At the moment, I stink of woodsmoke and wish I'd had more whisky and ginger. But I'm home. Which means I'm not there. Which is good.

PLEI!

You'rebackyou'rebackyou'rebackyou'rebackyou'reback!

"The world is saved from Glory's portal, Dawn is safe. What do we do about Glory?"

Connie, such a good question, and not one that they ever really explored on the show. And - oh! oh! - they have no idea that BenisGloryGloryisBen! Shit... And I remember now what you're doing next and I love you even more!

Such lovely Giles and Buffy interaction. I miss it. And I miss the days when Giles would only lie to Buffy when she asked him.

Victor - I have to read this all in one piece. It's so damn good.

The drabbles were all fantastic.

Holy cow. Loved the Riley/Spike to pieces, and the Wes/Andrew - my God, perfection. Yes. Lovely. SA's Faith story was also top, and the drabbles v. good. Victor's story I've been skimming, because I missed most of the pieces and I'd rather read it all from the beginning, so I think I'll have to catch up with it once it's been tweaked and given a home - still, the bits I've caught are thoroughly intriguing.

Dayum, there's always such good stuff here. What have I missed? Ooh! Willow the Vampire Slayer, yes - beautifully logical development of that particular What If. Loving what you're doing with it. Go team.

Unfinished Buffy/Faith thing continued

Next Year's Girl

Faith had given up kidding herself that it would ever happen. Prison had provided plenty of time for thinking things through, and one conclusion had been inescapable: B was never, ever going to embrace her inner dyke. Just not going to happen. Time to get the hell over it and move on.

She hadn't expected to see Buffy so soon, if ever, but that was okay. Girl looked ten years older, but that was still pretty good for a dead person of the non-fanged variety. It was still there, of course, all the old tension - but Faith understood, now, that it wasn't about sex or love and it never had been. It was just slayer stuff, and it was all the things Faith had done. The choices that Buffy couldn't understand or condone, even though they'd been the only damn choices Faith had felt she could make at the time. The boys Faith had done, or tried to do. Riley. Angel. Angelus. It wasn't about any Romeo and Juliet shit connecting the two slayers themselves. Buffy Anne Summers was as straight and vanilla as Mary fucking Poppins, and that was that. End of story.

It wasn't the first time Faith had been wrong, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

Friends was good - hell, friends was great, and more than she'd expected. Not that it was exactly friendship, still, but it was closer to friendship than most any relationship Faith had had since kindergarten. Except Angel - but that was a whole nother thing. It was kind of weird to be back in Sunnydale, but it felt good to be fighting on the side of truth, justice and all that shit; felt good to have all the little potentials looking at her wide-eyed, like she was worth something. It felt good to help to save the world for once, and kick the First Evil's intangible ass. But, yeah, having B trust her and respect her as an equal - that, Faith had decided, was as good as it got.

But it turned out that as good as it got was B trusting her and respecting her as an equal and fucking her breathless in the rain. Which was one hell of a surprise. And Faith liked Robin, liked him a whole lot, but she didn't spare him a second thought when B touched her. B. Buffy. Little Miss Perfect. Miss Goody Two Shoes shoving her up against the wall and kissing her like it was a competitive sport, vampire dust on her lips and the memory of cherry coke on her tongue. Buffy's fingers wet and clever, Buffy's mouth framing words Faith never expected to hear outside her imagination, Buffy's eyes meeting hers and not looking away.

"Holy shit," Faith had said, when she could speak again. She was fresh out of wisecracks and weirdly off balance. She felt oddly vulnerable in a way she didn't associate with sex, 'cause sex was all 'get some, get gone', and this wasn't all she wanted from B. There was nothing casual about her feelings for B. "Holy shit." Buffy had grinned at her, and the smugness had made Faith's fingers itch to form a fist. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

She'd had Buffy.

"Holy shit," Faith had said once more, grinning like an idiot, and then Buffy had kissed her back into silence.

* * *

She wasn't being all stalkery or nothing. It was just that she'd woken up first, and she'd just wondered if B was awake yet. And when she found B wasn't awake yet - well, she'd stayed anyway. Not like she was watching over Buffy, trying to keep her safe, some sentimental bullshit like that. Not at all. Just one friend waiting for another friend to wake up. Friend. Fuck buddy. Whatever.

The rest of the gang (Andrew kept suggesting catchy names for them, like they were in some dumb cartoon or comic book, and old Giles kept making withering responses) had gone out. They were going to have to figure out some kind of long term plan they could all live with (looked like setting up a school of some kind was the most likely bet, but where the hell they were going to get the money from beat Faith) but just now they were taking a well-earned breather for a day or two. Just that a well-earned breather still included evenings of kicking demon butt if you were a slayer.

Kicking demon butt and, it seemed, finally getting some hot slayer action. Who'd'a'thunk it?

A single bar of sunlight sliced through the gap in the curtains and fell across Buffy's exposed belly. She was sprawling on her back, sleeping far messier than Faith would've expected with the sheets kicked off and one arm over her head. Her skin bore a light sheen of sweat and the blonde hair was straggly and damp - the air conditioning was bust and it was too damn hot in the dingy little room. Faith pulled her knees up under her chin and stared, trying to memorise every inch of Buffy's skin and remembering very vividly how it felt to wear that body. Mayor Wilkins had understood her very well, although he'd never embarrassed her by talking about the Buffy thing; still his parting gift had been perfect, in its fucked up way. Faith had explored Buffy's body pretty damn thoroughly while she had it - had touched and pinched and probed and found every single sweet spot, every tender nerve ending. She knew with absolute certainty how Buffy would react if she stroked the back of her thigh just so; if she sucked on a finger or bit down on one peaked nipple. They weren't in an alleyway now, and there were far fewer clothes in the way; Faith wanted the chance to explore B at her leisure and make her writhe. She just wasn't entirely sure whether Buffy would feel the same way, or if last night had been a one time only deal.

The little pink vest top rode up above her flat belly, exposing a navel that Faith really wanted to lick. And it was stupid, really stupid to be so hung up over B; it wasn't like she was the cutest little piece of ass Faith had ever seen or had, not by a long way, but that didn't matter a damn. She was who she was, and Buffy Summers had been the centre of Faith's world ever since Faith had hit Sunnydale running. She was drenched just thinking about it. It was still all about Buffy all the time.

No wonder she and Angel understood each other so damn well.

"Hey."

Faith's eyes snapped back up to Buffy's face.

"I - uh. Hey you," said Faith, brash as ever, her cheeks feeling a little too hot. "So, you ready to hit IHoP?"

It was still all about Buffy all the time.

Ain't that the truth.

Um, cereal. This was motivation-fic for Plei. It might not be exactly what you were expecting, sweetie, but there's Ethan and there's Wesley. And it made me laugh as I was writing it. And there's technically sex.

---

As Yet Untitiled

Were anyone to look at Ethan and Wesley with normal sight, they'd see two rather intense gentlemen engaging in some odd yet amusing form of mime.

Needless to say, they were not.

Of course, had they been miming, it would make the telling of this story easier. As it does, this tale has far too many twists of fate and bends in the natural order of things to detail here. Rather, it is necessary only to tell that while the two had never been friends, they had never been enemies, which made this particular turn of events so interesting to put down.

You see, there was once a time when apocalypses had come and gone, and certain characters in this world took the form of a nuisance than what they truly were. In this world, a young woman's home met its demise at her hands, and yet the world moved on to accommodate the damage that had been wreaked.

And when it had settled a bit, twisting and curling around this woman's fate to create a balance to things, certain memories considered only nuisances chose to re-enter the picture, showing his true nature and working towards the natural order once again. For what is a hero without a villain? Even if she herself had never considered him more than a bug on her windshield, her mentor knew better--yet he too suffered from the arrogance of the victorious, and forgot in his haste to rebuild the world they left to watch for those who work best in the shadow of success.

Perhaps, then, the reader is wondering how Wesley comes into this, as he had not been a feature of the hero's world for many years, instead making his own part in the story of a far more conflicted champion. Well, to that the reader is asked to imagine a man whose expertise is requested in a situation where he had been disliked before. Every man has an ego, and were it bruised, there is nothing more healing than to return appreciated.

That said, back to the story at hand.

There was no mime; looking at the scene with sight tinged with magic, one sees instead both men pushing bright lights at each other, each the sum of their magical efforts. (That would explain the grunting.) Wesley's was a blinding blue-white, whereas Ethan's burned with a red-gold fury. They vied for conquest, their balls moving back and forth as either gained an inch on each other.

This went on for a very long time, until Ethan finally called a halt and they warily sat next to each other on a park bench near where they'd been dueling. After a few harsh words and initial trepidation, they began arguing good-naturedly about the best places to find beer from the homeland in the large annoying desert that was California. In fact, they were so into their discussion that they didn't notice they were supposed to be fighting. Once they'd agreed on a definitive pub, they got up and headed towards good English beer.

And then they had sex the end.