Beautiful stuff, Connie.

Does anyone else have a tendency towards startitis? You get a wonderful plot bunny, hammer out a couple of killer scenes, and then stop cold?

Anne, my hard drive is littered with the evidence, much like leftover tissue when I have a cold.

Startits. I like that word. I also do that all of the time.

Oh, totally. I've had fictus interruptus many times...now I have stories that don't wanna end. The Muses are sick-humored bitches.

Here is a fairly random Faith & Gunn story I wrote for a challenge:

Title: Superpowers and Shiny Knives
Author: Elisabeth
Summary: You gotta train to stay sharp. Faith and Gunn, facing life after "Home" and "Chosen." It's better with weapons.
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Spoilers: Through the end of S7/S5
A/N: Written for , for the kitchen drawer ficathon. (Master list of stories here; the post is friends-locked.) Her request was Faith/Gunn (shippy or friend-y),any time during or after the Season 4 Angelus arc, bonding over weapons. I hope I delivered.

"You're shitting me," she said, leaning forward. Her body was a challenge: I dare you to impress me, lawyer-boy.

"No, man. See, I was like this –" Gunn demonstrated, slicing the air with the sword as he demonstrated how he had taken out a Se-Kowchyk demon in the sewers the year before. "And I took his head off, one blow, clean. Motherfucker never knew what hit him."

Faith's dark eyes were shiny. "There was this one time back in Boston, right after I was called? And, like, my watcher sent me out to this cemetery, and she didn't know there was a nest of vamps there. I ended up staking about five of them with, I swear to god, this big bunch of rose stems from someone's grave."

"Those kill them?"

She shrugged. "I guess it's close enough to wood. Or maybe anything works if you jam it hard enough in the right place." She paused, frowned. "But that probably works for things other than slaying."

He laughed. "Damn, girl -- you do have a mouth on you." He gestured to the open weapons cabinets. "See anything you want to try out?"

She reached in, hefted a shiny hubcap axe. Balancing it between two fingers, Faith spun it; first clockwise, then counter-clockwise. "Aw, this is wicked. It would take out a dozen vampires at once. Line 'em up and knock 'em down."d as she explained that it was important that he get his stuff out of the hyperion, just as she had removed her techie toys and Wesley had dismantled the library. Gunn watched the way her ponytail bounced on the back of her neck as she spoke and thought: I>She might make goo-goo eyes at scientist boy, but when she's lonely, I'm still her eating buddy. He remembered, vaguely, that their relationship had ended badly, but brushed the thought aside. No point obsessing. Time to move on. Fred was ready to be friends – why wasn't he?

Faith's voice jarred him back to the present. "How many demons you think you killed?" He liked watching her, all dark hair and feline grace, eye candy in a black tank top and red denim shorts.

And nothing was as sexy as a girl with a broadsword who knew how to use it.

"With this stuff, or overall?" he asked. "Probably I've bagged about 200 since I signed on with Angel. And back with my old crew, I killed maybe 75 vamps, fifteen assorted others."

"Not bad for a civilian," she said. "You got into this 'cause of your sister, right?" He nodded. "Man, I can't believe people without superpowers get into this shit. I'm a slayer, and I damn near dropped out."

He shrugged. "Demons were tearing up my neighborhood, my family, my friends. It was do something, or hide my head. The hiding thing didn't make much sense to me."

She nodded. "I get that. And now that I'm good? I mean, again?" She cut the air with the sword, too close to Gunn's ear for anyone without Slayer reflexes. "I'm kind of looking forward to killing a whole bunch of uglies. Preferably some that I have a chance against. I mean, if those days aren't over for good."

He looked up from the trunk that he was loading with a bunch of small weapons – daggers and nun chucks mostly, swaddled in old newspapers. "What do you mean?"

"It's ending, Chuck. You're, like, a genius lawyer now. And I'm gonna be teaching combat to new slayers until B kicks me out of her school. I don't see much more street fighting time ahead for us."

He rose, walked over to her, and put his hand on her arm. Voice quiet and dangerous, he said, "The way I see it, wearing a power suit during the day ain't gonna keep me from fighting the good fight at night. And nobody's gonna tell me any different."

Her eyes were far away. "You say that, but things are gonna change. I'm seeing it already, Chuck. The whole "let's restart the Watcher's council thing and train all five zillion new slayers" sounds great, but it's turning B and her crew into this bureaucracy. Yesterday I had to schedule a meeting to talk to Willow. And how many layers of assistants would I have had to go through to get you, if I didn't still have your cell?"

He shrugged. "I have to watch my time. Doesn't mean I'm off my game."

"So when was the last time you patrolled? I ain't been out, except with a bunch of girls five years younger and twice as flexible, since the week Will took me back to Sunnydale. I can feel that I'm gonna get soft."

"You gotta train to stay sharp," he said, tense.

"Yep. Gotta find the time to train to stay sharp. Aging out's not usually a risk for Slayers, but that doesn't mean it won't happen." She sheathed the broadsword she'd been fondling. "Bet it's double a risk without the superpowers." She held up a hand to stop him from talking. "Not that mad knowledge of the law isn't a superpower. It's just not gonna be much help if some oogly-boogly gets your back against a wall."

"I hear that, but –" He looked around the weapons room. While they were talking, they had packed it all up; one trunk for W&H, one trunk for the Slayer academy, smaller crates of weapons for their private collections. He thought about her question, and realized: He hadn't been on a patrol in months, and the last time he went for a jog, he ended up winded after half an hour. "Yo, Faith?"

"Yeah?"

"I heard Wes on the phone yesterday. Said there was a lot of vamp activity out in Hollywood. W&H is sending a team in, but you wanna go out, take a look for yourself, maybe kill a few things?"

Her smile was dazzling. "You know it."

~Finis~

I'd say you delivered just fine, LJ. Only two things, one of them a typo.

thought: I>She might make goo-goo eyes

Typo? I or She?

oogly-boogly

I can't make Faith say this, in my head. Gunn, maybe, but not Faith. I think, really not her kind of word.

Story is a good little read.

LJ, I got lost here:

It would take out a dozen vampires at once. Line 'em up and knock 'em down."d as she explained that it was important that he get his stuff out of the hyperion, just as she had removed her techie toys and Wesley had dismantled the library. Gunn watched the way her ponytail bounced on the back of her neck as she spoke and thought: I>She might make goo-goo eyes at scientist boy, but when she's lonely, I'm still her eating buddy. He remembered, vaguely, that their relationship had ended badly, but brushed the thought aside. No point obsessing. Time to move on. Fred was ready to be friends – why wasn't he?

I think something got lost in the middle, maybe?

KAY pov

I wander the hallways of the Hyperion for what feels like ages. Then I try to draft my letter requesting my leave from Charm City’s finest. There’s another fight here and I’d better get on board, huh? Those kids need all the help they can get, what with their main muscle looking for the Out. Like a pussy. We have a job to do, and we don’t get to decide if we feel like it. If I ever meet him, leaving a mess like this? He’s gonna wish he drank a garlic smoothie, huh? If I ever get the pleasure of leading a squad, there’s no way I’d eat my young like that. The only way I’d leave my squad is feet first.

Of course, I’m not good at having lunch with people and writing block grants like Megan, but that’s not what they need here. They need a pro who knows what’s going on in the end of the twentieth century like Wesley knows the fourteenth. They need somebody who’s seen a gun outside the movies. And I’ve been puked on, spat on, and bled on. Slime? Big whoop.

And Detective Lockley either knows or will learn quickly that I will not be easy to push around like a foreigner, an Undead American, and a college girl...I know all the tricks.I’ve already bought a whiteboard with three sets of markers. Animal, vegetable, or mineral, huh? And I admit it, I have unfinished business in the City of (no) Angels.
Wesley’s light is still on. Maybe I’m not the only one whose dreams keep her up. I’m just going to walk by when he sees me and says “Detective Howard...a moment please?”

“It’s Kay, for God’s sake. And I’m sorry about the other day...I was drunk, huh? Drunk and...upset. Even for me, it’s not every day...” But that’s too hard to talk about.

“I’m familiar with that condition,” he says. And he picks up some work and tries not to look at me. I keep my eye on him for a minute The room is very a-place-for-everything-ish. Makes Bayliss’ desk look like cleanup for Mardi Gras, and God knows you can eat off that.

“Your dad? No offense...you’ve got the look, huh? I’ve seen investigated crime scenes that weren’t this neat. You’re such a good boy, Wesley.”

“I’m sure you didn’t come here to analyze me?”

"You asked me...”

“I blame myself. I should have come forward. Or staked him myself.”

“Anyone tries to do that goes through me. Not a threat, just a fact.”

Heh. The look into Kay gets to be Wesley's, now. I love that. I honestly wonder how they'll mesh gears when Kay's first kill with AI comes up.

And with that hair? Minister of Grace takes on a whole new dimension.