“That was a very sweet bit of ‘obligation’ you laid on me at Caritas, babe. I think if Poindexter had waited to spill the beans, you might have obligated me with tongue. Hmm, French obligation...a lost art. But I bet you’re good at it. One for the road?”

“That...might not have been all that was.”My God, better he should drain me than embarrass me this way. But I don’t say it. Because he might do it. And I might want him to.

“What’s this? Words of love from the blushing Detective Howard?”

“Ok, yeah...I love you, all right? But I didn’t find out till there was no future in it, so there’s no point in even talking about it...”

“Believe it or not, that was the most beautiful thing anybody ever said to me.”

“Oh, bullshit, Munchkin.” I say. He doesn't have to make fun of me. And I know all his routines, anyway.
“Elizabeth Browning couldn’t have said it better.” He teased. “OK, you caught me...I was just pretending cause it’s you. And I kind of love you, too. I can say that now...it’s one of my special dead-guy privileges. Cause what’s the worst that can happen?”

“You gonna be all right? In Balmer?”

“I’ll manage, babe. I always do.”

“Cause if you needed to...I have a place.Till I come back in September.”

“You know what I want.”

“As long as I don’t have to kick you in the crotch. Do one thing for me. Give a hundred to Timmy. I owe him too.”

“Not with tongue, though.”

“No.”

And I kissed him goodbye. We had to hurry so he could get to the docks while it was still dark.”Oh,” I said, feeling the sticky notes fall forward out of my bra.
“Wow, that view was good enough I wish I had time for more than a kiss.”

“You’ve got two minutes, right?” I say. “Sorry. Habit. You’re the primary on that one, huh? Connect the dots. Make me proud.”

END (Maybe it's too open?) Deena, awesome Cordy voice, babe.(Heh, just when I have that habit conquered, I write Munch again.)

sigh

I don't want it to be over.

Aw, that's nice. Be glad I didn't go with my original "I kissed him, told him that I loved him, then I killed him." concept. Mega-dramatic, but I also want to write Vamp! Munchkin again. Sometime. And big piles of dust don't make dirty jokes. And I'd probably still be crying, to tell you the truth. ETA: I had fun trying to make their "revelation" as unschmoopy as humanly possible...almost completely non-romantic romantic moment. I think it's in character though.

t applause Lovely stuff, Erika. The actors were just having a little staged reading in my brain. Very cool. t /applause

Deena, yours is bookmarked for later perusal; I'm off to breakfast and blessed caffeine.

Yay, really? And I suppose Kay wearing that Dopplegangland outfit had nothing to do with that...it was all my powerful metaphors. So nobody but me thinks my ending might be weak?

I think it's a little abrupt, but... hey. I didn't want it to end, so I'm not sure how clear my thinking is.

Karl, you are a darling, and I'd probably steal you from Erika were there any chance of getting you past her spicy brains.

Abruptness is a problem for me...I may have to rethink.Because I kind of hop from image to image, rather than plan out first(I told somebody once that rather than have a process as such, my creativity is more like Cordy's visions except that I don't usually want to throw up after having it) I'm hoping to learn to control it more, one day. Oh, yeah, I have wonderful fans...But Deena, I think Karl just likes that I talk dirty and throw writers' names around a lot. He loves me for my Munchkin, plain and simple. :) ETA: But I needed to hear it cause I've been feeling more like Gordon Pratt today. A relatively repellent little loser that crawls out from his corner to tell the world he is smarter than they are, even though accomplishment-wise he way doesn't deliver. OK, so I'm not as dangerous or as ugly. And I haven't paid anyone to touch me yet. And I'm not a racist. But Gordon Pratt is my worst nightmare.

You know, I had the feeling you were going to end it that way.

It's damned satisfying, and damned good, too.

Thanks...at about midpoint, I shied away from the carnage storyline. And I found myself curious about what a Baltimore vamp's nest would look like, so at some point, I might get back to that. And a conspiracy involving lawyers will take some time to untangle so I thought it wouldn't be believable to put it down too easily.

In a weird bit of synchronicity, this weeks Open on Sunday theme is Hands.

Lay Your Hands on Me

“Touch me.”

“Buffy...”

“I know. It’s all bad, evil, soul. I know. I really do.” She pauses, quiet, desperate. “Touch me.”

He cups her chin, his hands slipping between her and the moonlight. The flesh of his fingers, marble-cold and just as pale, slide up, the tips coming to rest against her cheekbones. They’re wet. Something about the night, no one and nothing but them, has got to her. She’s weeping, not even bothering to push it back.

“Touch me.”

“Oh, God,” Angel whispers, “you know we can’t do this.”

He lays his hands on her. She brings them peace.