When Tim came to, he found himself being smacked around by the two male vampires, while the female watched. Despite her apparent glee, Bayliss felt sure she was meant for better things.Spike looked into Tim's face and said "You know, you're bloody useless, but kind of fun to play with. I can see why my girl likes you."
Maybe this guy was giving Frank motivational tips. Tim tasted blood from a cut above his lip, and pondered what to say next. "Um, thank you?"
"No sweat, mate. And you really get under Angelus' skin...I have to let you live. Brass him off royally, that will. But if he gets to you first, you're dead. I don't protect people."
"Sometimes it's not that great," Tim admitted.
Drusilla began to whine like a homicidal puppy. "Ok, one lick, but no kissing."
Her cold tongue was surprisingly appealing. OK, Bayliss, he told himself, that's one you take to the grave.
Jeffrey Dahmer:
Thanks, Anne. Otherwise she'd be Mary Kay, huh? Nice pink Cavalier... Cause sometimes we've got opinions in common...but seriously, Bayliss Canon Sues dominate something chronic(I kind of understand...I want to look out for Timmy too, but Jeez.)..My least fave Bayliss fic thing bar none is when people write about the abuse as child!Timmy, which isn't really relevant to this discussion, but child voices are hard and most people can't do it(from what I've seen)
Lyra, that was a good breakdown, I think.
erika, the concept of Spike letting Bayliss live to annoy Angel is a thing of beauty. True to that season's Spike.
So, now, does vampMunch come in and smack Dru and liberate Timmy?
The next few hours were tough on Bayliss. At first, he thought Drusilla was being brutalized, but finally moans and "Don't stop, Spike!" convinced him otherwise. Could it be Stockholm Syndrome? Angelus smacked around so much that his consciousness was kind of in and out.
"Bayliss!" Frank said. "Let's go."
"No, no, you're not here. They trick me, send me what I want most."
"Bayliss, use your head. If this was your fantasy, why would they send me...unless there's something you want to tell me, of course".
"Good point, Frank. Wait...what about Drusilla?"
Frank, mentally halfway out of the factory, fidgeted and shot his partner one of his famous "And the problem here is?" looks. "What about her? Can you walk?"
"Yeah, I should be fine, Frank. It only hurts when I laugh. She could be a prisoner."
"And what, the gasping is her tunnelling for freedom? That's crap, Tim. Romantic crap."
"What about Patti Hearst?"
"No fangs. That we know of. You can only help people when they want help, Bayliss. And sometimes not even then."
So this little thing I wrote because it's Friday night and I am at home, terribly bored and needing to amuse myself. I also realized that most of my fic is about boys, so I decided to write some girls. Girls are hard, but fun.
Way Station
"This is disappointing. Hell isn't nearly as horrifying as I thought."
"What were you expecting?"
"Fire. Brimstone. Eternal Torment. One time, I had to go to a mini-mall in Sheboygan to turn this guy into a Fluger Demon, and that was much more terrifying than this."
"Anya, you do realize that you're not actually in Hell yet?” asked Lilah. “ This is just a way station, only petty torments here. Like having everything you ever wanted, power, success, maybe even love, snatched away from you and being replaced by some pop tart because Angel has a blonde fixation."
"Bitter much? Hello. You work for the most evil law firm in the universe. That's what they do."
"Worked. And you're in no position to talk, Cordelia."
"Hey, I'm the only one in here who's not dead! I'm just temporarily unable to occupy my body. But once I get it back, after I fix my hair and burn a few outfits, I'm gonna put my size 8 Manolo's in a certain demon's ass."
"Right, because it was perfectly logical to trust the word of an evil looking demon whose last job was keeping a man trapped in a box of fire."
"I could have told you Skip was a big fat liar.” Anya walked over and put her hand on Cordelia’s shoulder. “ And he cheats at cards."
"That's not the point. The point is, what did I do to deserve getting trapped in Hell's waiting room with you two losers?"
"Hmm, turned evil, brought Satan to Earth, birthed a Power that took over the world and used it as her personal buffet" Lilah ticked off each point, “and I am not a loser.” Anya could only manage an injured, "Hey!"
"Ok, I know that sounds bad. But I was tricked, and then possessed. . .and even if I might deserve to be here just the tiniest bit, you are sooo losers. You," Cordy pointed at Lilah, "had to dress up like Fred to get Wesley to sleep with you. And you got left at the altar by Xander Harris."
"And you did so much better?” Lilah smirked. “ If you can't nail the boss, I guess the son is the next best thing."
"Cradle robber. And he had a bowl cut. But I bet he was really great in the sack. When Xander was 19, he could go all night long. That was the year I broke my coccyx.”
“That is it! I am getting out of here.” Cordy looked up to the sky. “Listen to me, you PTB. You might be able to keep a nymphomaniac ex-demon with an identity crisis and a lawyer with self-esteem issues cooped up down here, but I am nobody’s . . .What’s that? Do you feel that?”
“Of course we feel it.” said Lilah exasperatedly.
“What’s going on?”
Anya sighed. “The same thing that happens every day. The ground trembles; a gigantic chasm opens at our feet; we feel ourselves being pulled inexorably down into the depths of a fiery pit and then. . .”
“Lather, rinse, repeat.” finished Lilah.
"This is disappointing. Hell isn't nearly as horrifying as I thought."
there'd be more, except I've got a cat and a husband going "All your attention am belongs to us!" And they wonder why I go out of the house to write. Thank god I don't have kids
On the edge of the failed Sunrise Grove development on the east side of town, Willow paused to carefully speak a chant. She then took a deep breath and paid as much attention to her surroundings as it was witchily possible to do.
She did not take the main street down towards the recreation center. One of the crumbling paved roads circled through the half-built houses to a point on the other side of the vampires' lair. Other creatures had moved into the area, those that didn't mind the proximity of the undead. None of them would be pleased to find a human about, and Willow walked very carefully.
Loud punk music and bright light came from the open garage doors on the south side of the rec center. The red BMW convertible was there, along with three big motorcycles. The center of attention, though, was an old black car with the hood up. Two figures were bent over either fender, heads buried in the engine. Both were wearing black jeans, and Willow identified the one on the right as Spike, from the Doc Martins on the feet. She didn't know who the other one was, wearing running shoes. She crept carefully to the edge of the light.
Spike straightened from the engine compartment and reached for his cigarettes. "Evenin', Red," he called.
The other vampire pulled up and stared into the night, started. She recognized Sammy, who seemed to hang out with Spike a lot. He didn't see Willow until she stepped into view.
"Darn it, Spike, how did you know I was there?"
"Smelled you." He smirked at her over his lit match. "The wind shifted a couple of minutes ago, and I smelled the blonde witch. Left her with pleasant dreams, I trust."
Willow tried to answer, but she was blushing too hard.
"If it's any comfort," Spike went on, "I didn't know you were there till then. You're getting good with that misdirection spell."
Willow beamed.
"But you still need to work on shielding the magic itself," said a new voice. She squeaked and turned. Giles stood right behind her, smiling.
"How did you--" She blew air out in frustration. "Darn it."
Giles put an arm around her shoulder and led her into the garage. "I was watching for you, and I felt the magic when you invoked the spell when you got here. But that was much smoother tonight, no sudden flash of power. I may not have noticed if I wasn't looking for it." He cleared his throat. "The scent matter, though, is relevant." He glared at Spike. "Though someone without specific knowledge may not have realized the significance."
Spike just smiled. "Other than knowing it smells good." Sammy snickered, then smothered it at Giles' pointed look.
"We can," Giles continued, "modify that misdirection spell to cloak all traces of your presence."
Willow sighed. "Every time I think I have something down, somebody pokes a hole in it."
"Nature of the beast, I'm afraid. Magic is more art than science. Come along, we can go over your exercises."
As Willow followed, she glanced at the black car. "Oh, is this the famous De Soto? Or did you get a replacement?"
Spike patted the fender fondly. "Nope, this is the one. I tracked her down and got her back."
"I bet it's a gas hog."
He grinned at her. "She may not be fuel efficient, but she's got it where it counts. I'll give you a ride someday, if you want."
Willow saw Giles' glare from the corner of her eye, but she was used to innuendo from Spike. "Is it a stick shift? I don't like stick shifts, they just don't drive as smooth as automatics."
Sammy let out a guffaw before he could stop himself, then focused his attention on the engine compartment of the De Soto. Spike winked at Willow, who smiled back before following Giles.
"Did you have any trouble getting away?" Giles asked.
"None at all, once Tara went to sleep. Everybody's busy. Buffy's on patrol, and Xander's off with Joyce. They're on a road trip to the Convent of St. Eugene."
Spike turned back again. "Where's Joyce?"
"Road trip to the convent. She's been gathering donations, and she drafted Xander to drive her up there. I guess he and Anya didn't have anything set up this weekend. They'll be back tomorrow."
"Who's looking after Dawn?"
"She's at a sleep over."
Spike frowned. "And Buffy's out patrolling alone."
"She's a big Slayer, Spike," Giles said. "I'm sure she's fine."
Willow glanced at Giles. He sounded just like himself, warning Spike away from Buffy, with just a little growl in the sub-harmonics. But Spike looked oddly confused at he nodded at Giles' words, then turned back to the car. Giles tugged lightly on her arm, and she followed him into the rest of the building.
Willow wasn't sure how many vampires lived at Sunrise Grove. There always seemed to be new faces but not the same ones. When she had begun to come to Giles for magic lessons at the beginning of the summer, he'd made a point of introducing her to the four others living there at the time. Warning them off, she realized. New faces began to appear at the rec center, she got used to covert stares and badly disguised hostility.
A month ago, when she was still practicing the misdirection spell, one of the new fledges ambushed her on the way in, snarling that humans were food, not pets. Giles caught the panic flare of her instinctive reaction, but when he got there all that was left was the fading stench of burning vampire and a witch shaking with the reaction of pulling a fireball out of nothing. He hugged her in relief, but that night's lesson had been short. Spike walked her home, muttering to himself that he hoped Ripper didn't dust the lot of them as a lesson. Two more new vampir
