Yep, from a story rather than LJ. I've just had a little attack of Speranza catchup, so I'm not sure which one it was from. Probably
Eight Session, Kawalski is Bleeding, An Admirable Solution, The Border Between Life and Death
or
The Killer Replacements.
DAMN, she's good. Not just in the characterisation and dialogue, but in terms of plot and structure. I can't think of another fanfic writer whose conscious use of the medium to facilitate structure - in a way that totally supports the narrative - has struck me to such an extent. She rocks. Plus - hot. And funny. And hot. And romantic.
What's not to love?
BtVS/Sandman crossover fic. Just written it, beta-ishness appreciated.
Desire's Creatures
"I don't think so," said the big bloke, startling the hell out of Spike. He glanced over his shoulder and directed an affable smile at them both. "No. I don't want to join you for dinner, thank you, and neither does Jan. Run along now."
"What the hell…?" spluttered Spike, thoroughly disgruntled. For one thing he'd been in full-on stealth mode, stalking, lurking, prowling, generally doing the whole dangerous predator thing, so the damned musician shouldn't have known he was being followed in the first place. And then this great lunk just turns round and
looks
at them both, and
smiles,
like he knows what they both are and still reckons that this dark alleyway is the safest place in the world.
Spike was acutely conscious that the balance of power had suddenly got itself shifted all to hell, and that Drusilla was watching him lose face. He darted around in front of the two humans, obliging them to pause in mid-stride, and glowered. Now they were trapped between him and his princess, and that was not going to lead to anything but bloodshed, thank you very much.
"Fine. You know what we are? Fine." He let his visage shift into game face and was gratified to see the older fella flinch and drop the battered leather case containing his trumpet. Annoyingly, though, the big chap with the double bass remained perfectly calm. He even bent to pick up the instrument and return it to his trembling colleague. Spike stepped a little closer, smiling toothily up at the big chap. "Word to the wise, mate -- you might think you're Obi-Bloody-Wan Kenobi or something, but I don't fall for any of that cheap mind control rubbish. 'These aren't the snacks you're looking for', that kind of thing - just not going to work. Me and my girl are - hey. Hang on - how'd you know we're English?" he said, accusingly. "I thought you were Czech."
"He isn't from around here, Spike." Dru's voice was dreamy as she stepped out of the shadows, the hem of her black dress trailing through dirty puddles.
"Yes, love. So I gathered."
"No. I mean - he's not from around here. You're like her, aren't you? I didn't realise, when we saw you on the bridge, playing your little tunes. You aren't a very good musician, you know," she added confidentially. He looked slightly affronted. "But you were having such a lot of fun that it didn't really matter. You're all brimming with life, all lit up from inside like exploding suns. I can see it now." She laughed. "Silly me! We can't eat
you."
"Er, love? You know me, I don't mind playing with my food, but d'you think you could let a fella in on the game?" Spike didn't quite manage to conceal his impatience.
Drusilla glided over the cobbles, disregarding the burger wrappers and the used condoms with her customary aplomb, and came to a halt behind him. She peered over his shoulder and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist.
"He's one of
them,
" she whispered in his ear, in what she clearly thought was a helpful manner. "Like the lady with the burning baby fishes."
"You know Del?" The musician looked surprised, and then he smiled hugely. He really was a very big bloke. Words like 'rugged' and 'hearty' came unbidden to Spike's mind. "Yes, I can see you do, my pretty. Your kind are Desire's creatures, as a rule, but
you
live in Del's domain, don't you?" His brow furrowed briefly. "I miss her, you know."
"Woah, now -- Time Out, people," said Spike, feeling the remnants of his patience melting clean away. He hadn't the faintest idea what was going on and he really, really hated Drusilla knowing other men. She wasn't supposed to have any secrets from him, but unfortunately she didn't seem to have a very good grasp of this concept at all. "Just who the blazes is -- actually, no. I don't care. Gentlemen, my name is Spike, also known as William the Bloody. This is Drusilla. You are Snack One and Snack Two. I -- ow!" Drusilla had smacked him over the head.
"You aren't listening, Spike!" she told him sternly. "You're being naughty. And silly. We
can't
eat him. He's not human. And he might get cross, which wouldn't be a good thing." There was a little pause, and then she added thoughtfully, "Although it might be rather exciting. Wouldn't you like to come and play with us, Mr Musician? We could have lots and lots of fun, you know. Breaking things. Making beautiful music. Eating people." Spike knew that wheedling tone all too well, and he hated hearing her use it on other men. Rather than get unduly angry, however, he made an effort and concentrated upon the key part of her little speech.
"Not human?"
"Not human," Dru agreed, wriggling against him and trying to make him sway to music only she could hear. He let her pull him gently from side to side, keeping his eyes fixed dubiously on the possibly-not-dinner-after-all in front of them.
"Are you positive about that, pet? They look human. Smell human. Don't seem demony or anything."
"They're not demons, silly! And I think the little one is human, but -- ooh! Could we have him, Mr Musician?"
"No," said the big bloke, firmly. "Jan was kind enough to let me join in with his band this evening. I cannot, in all conscience, let you have him for supper." Drusilla made a small, petulant sound, but didn't stamp her foot.
"Hmph. Well, the little one's human, but the big one isn't. But he's not a demon. He's -- big."
"Well, yeah."
"No. I mean -- big. Bigger than demons. Bigger than gods. Big, and forever and ever and always. Like my lady."
"Drusilla, sweetheart, we've talked about this. Your lady isn't really real, is she?"
"Well -- not like you or Miss Edith. Not that kind of real. But she's the other kind of real. Really real. Isn't she?"
"Yes," agreed Mr Rugged and Hearty Musician. "She's the realest kind of real."
"Nobody asked you," snapped Spike, and then something in the bloke's face made him wish he'd held his tongue. "That is -- um. I mean -- I don't think. Look, this is all going wrong, and I'm hungry, and I'm losing my sense of humour."
"That would never do," agreed the bloke, smiling. His elderly friend looked close to tears, which was kind of comforting, but Spike was thoroughly unimpressed by how the evening was panning out so far. "Can I suggest you try your luck in the Old Town Square?"
"That's a good idea," said Dru, before Spike had the chance to reply. He sighed.
"Excuse us just a moment, will you?" said Spike. He pulled Dru off to one side.
"Drusilla, princess, light of my life -- we aren't really going to just let them walk off, are we?" he demanded plaintively. "I mean, how's it going to look? People will think we're going soft."
"Spike," Drusilla said, in a tone of voice that brooked no contradiction. "You're going to make me cross. Very, very cross."
"But, love --," he protested, without very much hope.
"No. I've told you. No." Spike stared at her entreatingly for a long moment and then his shoulders sagged. Her heart was set on this.
"Oh, very well. Your wish is, as ever, my command. Go on then," he added more loudly, glancing over at the two men who were still waiting politely a few yards away. "Shoo. Skidaddle. Before I change my mind."
The big chap, to Spike's profound irritation, merely grinned, and waved at them both.
"Good hunting, my friends," he called over his shoulder as he patted led the little old man away to safety. Spike shook his head, disgusted by the whole debacle.
"You realise, Dru, that I have absolutely no sodding idea what all that was about?"
"Change, Spike. I just fancied a change," Drusilla said, leaning forward and pressing a kiss onto his cheek. He laced his fingers in hers and pulled her close for a proper kiss, and for a long moment they stood there like any courting couple. At last she stepped back and her smile was dazzling. "Come on, let's find some nice Americans."
