#and get the BtVS deck

[charlyritter]

If anyone's looking for me, I'll just be over here crying about the Spike cards in the Buffy tarot deck

[skeleton-orb]

thinking about magic the gathering again. sorry

[fallingtowers]

btvs season 1 episode 10 "nightmares" is a story about abuse, and more specifically about a young boy who has been abused by an authority figure. in a very real sense, the titular nightmares stem from this act of abuse—they're of course doing some metaphorical work on the level of individual character (e.g. willow's opera dream represents her fear of being scrutinized and "found out"), but as they all come from billy, we can also understand them as a metaphor for the kind of unreasoning fear an abusive authority figure might inspire in a child under their care.

see buffy's behavior, for example. this episode identifies buffy with billy—she serves as a kind of proxy for him, running from the monster with him and ultimately helping him defeat it. it's the running that's interesting here. buffy describes the ugly man as "too strong" for her to fight, something we only rarely see her do, and usually in reference to enemies of a far greater caliber than this kind of villain‐of-the-week. in fact, buffy spends a big chunk of this episode in abject fear!

in the end, of course, she faces down the ugly man and saves the day. it takes her a good while, though, and by that time someone else has beaten her to the punch (🤡) and already faced his fears.

despite his connection with buffy in this episode, the fact that billy is a young boy who has been physically abused by someone who was supposed to look after him positions him as a much more direct parallel to xander, who at various points in the show is heavily implied to have been (and at this point in time presumably still is) a victim of abuse at his parents' hand. interesting, then, that it's specifically xander who turns around and decks his nightmare in the face!

it's played as a comedic beat, and there's not much in the way of on-screen justification for xander's sudden burst of courage, but given the context of the episode it feels significant that it's him. in fact, if the ugly man represents billy's baseball coach, then there's no reason why we can't understand the clown (textually an adult who terrorized xander when he was a child) as a stand-in for xander's parents.

what's more, towards the end of the episode, when billy is "unmasking" the ugly man, willow expresses confusion—but xander says, "i get it." out of all of them, he's the one who understands exactly what billy is going through. this similarity between them is further underscored by xander's line in the final scene, when buffy expresses disbelief at the coach's actions: "you obviously haven't played kiddy league. i'm surprised it wasn't one of the parents."

"i get it." and of course he would. he's been there himself.

[genericaces]

if u did a tier maker of buffyverse ships i would enjoy it 🙏

This is tricky because ships are one of those things that people can get really passionate about, and I don't want to upset anyone. I try to steer clear of any drama when I can, but I also want to feel free to express my opinions, you know? Because god knows I have them.

I guess I'll say before I wade into any discourse that, disclaimer: my enjoyment of a ship doesn't mean I condone what goes on in it, and I can separate fiction from reality. I try not to moralize when it comes to fictional ships and approach them both objectively in terms of quality and also subjectively to my personal tastes. But I also believe that, at the end of the day, it's just fandom and people should do whatever floats their boat.

So with all that being said, here's my (highly personal!) rankings of the ships in Buffyverse:

C Tier:

ATS 1x09 - This is the ship with the bomb that Doyle sacrifices himself to disarm. Now it's a good episode, but this is really the only wide shot we get of the boat. I literally forgot that the climax takes place on the water. The interior is fun with lots of stairs and various apparatuses for fight scenes, but it could just as easily have been a basement or abandoned factory. Honestly, I wasn't too impressed by the ship factor. Rating: 4/10

B Tier:

BTVS 2x13 - You might be thinking, "You're ranking a BACKGROUND ship higher than an actual location?" but hear me out: because the ship is in the background, I actually remembered that this scene had a ship. There's a great fight scene in front of it where Buffy uses the chain along the docks to choke out a bad guy, and then she gets thrown into the water. The ship hangs out in the background the whole time and brings together the whole nautical-themed fight. Rating: Angel diving into the water/10

A Tier:

BTVS 3x15 - Now we're cooking with gas. We get a FULL shot of the whole ship on the dock. The establishing shots linger on the boat more because Buffy and Faith have a confrontation here. Not only do they have a conversation with someone visibly ON a boat, Faith starts out on the upper deck of the boat then swings herself OFF the ramp to argue with Buffy on the docks. Bonuses for a visually dynamic conversation and the boat representing Faith's plans to fuck off, interrupted by HER choice to get off and get in Buffy's face about it instead. Rating: Saving the girl that's supposed to be your enemy/10

S Tier:

ATS 3x22 - I know, we're getting into controversial territory here. But look how beautiful this ship is. Is it a boat? A schooner? A yacht? I don't know, but I DO care. Extra points for it being a plot-necessary boat, of course, since they had to get Angel out into the middle of the sea somehow. What's great about this ship is that it's really condensed all the ship elements into a smaller vessel, so you're aware throughout the tense emotional scenes that you're actually ON a boat in the middle of the sea. It really emphasizes Angel and Connor's isolation at this point in the finale, both physically and emotionally. And, I mean, look at this: we actually have a shot that has most of a boat AND most of a person in it. AND it's the climax of a season finale? THIS is the ultimate Buffyverse ship. Final rating: The misunderstanding-to-patricide pipeline/10

[niuniente]

I got Buffy The Vampire Slayer tarot deck. As my attempt is to get to back to tarot and learn to read them intuitively via images, too, I always go through tarot decks to see if any of the cards pick my interest. If the illustration is somehow different or in a way or another chances the atmosphere of the card's usual meaning (for example a broken Tower VS an intact Tower).

Here are my faves from BTVS deck:

The Lovers is a card for Tara and Willow. Not only it is nice to see The Lovers depicting a same sex Lovers, this The Lovers feels like "I found you! Finally, I found you!" The Sun (The Spirit) is shining its blessing on this love. This is very easy, relieving and fulfilling love, where possibly two different kinds of people (lush tree & scorched tree) come together. (Typically, The Lovers card for me represents love which requires some work and effort, and might be challenging at first).

The Tower in this deck is intact and seems to be able to hold its form despite everything going around it. It is a message tower, so this The Tower underlines communication, knowing, intuition and the gut feeling. Notice the person leaping into freedom from this Tower. This Tower represents circumstances which ask you to leave more than everything crumbling around you whether you want it or not, and taking part of you with it.

10 of Swords in this deck is the most peaceful 10 of Swords I've ever seen. It's like "Well, it is how it is and there's no changing it". Things have ended and there's really nothing you can do anymore but go with the flow and let the old die. Don't take the hand of old (Angel) trying to reach back to you - it is going and it needs to go. Keep your head clear and calm (Buffy).

Judgement card has a message on it: "Please check ALL bags/backpacks at counter". What are you carrying in your bags? What are you bringing under the eye of Judgement? You will be judged based on that because what you put in your bag, that will go with you and you have to deal with it. So, check your bags!

The Sun card with Buffy and Spike looks a lot like traditional The Lovers, which is a really nice touch, as both cards are good - and when combined together, SUPER good! Fans of Spuffy might also be happy to know that The Sun represents the highest point in one's potential. It has now been reached, you have reached your personal enlightenment in a way or another. Hardships are behind and one has survived them.

5 of Cups is probably my favorite! Typically this card depicts a person crying after 3 fallen cups, while 2 are still fine. Buffy here, however, doesn't mind the fallen cups but keeps going, filling her own cup with the strength, resilience and stubbornness she's got. A really positive card for 5 of cups.

[seancamerons]

9 people you’d like to know better

Three Ships:  sean & emma (degrassi) ryan & marissa (the oc) steve & nancy (stranger things) i got a lot of ships.

First ever ship: idk i think i shipped justin x britney irl when i was like 10, no i don't really count that. i do count steve & dj from full house, harvey & sabrina from sabrina the teenage witch, & cory & topanga from boy meets world. not sure what my first ever was. I'm sure it was doug and patti mayonnaise as a kid i loved them and remember wanting them to eventually go on a date at their burger spot. semma was the first ship when i found out what shipping was, but i'd been shipping long before i knew what that was.

Last song: random christmas songs on the radio, the last one i heard was the ronette's rendition of sleigh ride.

Last film: last night i watched deck the halls with my boyfriend.

Currently reading: fanfiction tbh, but i do have books i got to get through sometime. I'm really gonna try to finish memoir the woman in me by britney spears.

Currently watching: idk this maury-esque show on tv rn on my day off, last vacay day. It is like drama and a bad kids story about how like this kid is going to learn to grow up her name is heaven.

Currently consuming: wawa sugar free salted carmel iced coffee!!

Currently craving: a fajita from plaza azteca, maybe a fresh mojito or marg and the fajita has to have it with all the fixins, and for dessert a rich mousse or a rich dense chocolate cake mm!🥰

tagged by @mollyhale 💌✨ tysm! tagging @winnie-the-monster @zayadriancas @maya-matlin @lovelyxlilis @hydesjackiespuddinpop @thatcatangelwriter @reinhartroleplays @seancameronism @lindseycool88 @sansalicents @marthaskane @btvs @charlieconwayy @userbettycooper @tomsgreg @emmanelson

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Saturday, August 10

BUFFY: This trip is important for the girls to understand the source of their power, and to know how to use it right. GILES: Do you think they appreciate the gravity of what we're undertaking? It's frightening, and it's difficult. And then, apparently, someone told them that the vision quest consists of me driving them to the desert, doing the hokey pokey until a spooky Rasta-mama slayer arrives and speaks to them in riddles. BUFFY: That's not exactly how I put it.

~~BtVS 7x13 “The Killer in Me”~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Grounded (Buffy, Dawn, PG-13) by veronyxk84

Memories Anew (Buffy/Spike, PG) by hostile17

[Chaptered Fiction]

[French Language] Infiltré, Chapter 16/16 COMPLETE! (Buffy/Spike, T) by MissKitty28

In the Company of Witches and Slayers:, Chapter 126/200 (Willow/Tara, E) by VladimirHarkonnen (TheLightdancer)

Lest This Bond Be Broken, Chapter 9/? (Buffy/Giles, M) by Dynapink

Greener Pastures, Chapter 4/? (Buffy, SG xover, G) by Mirrored_Illusions

The Stars to Hold Our Destiny, Chapter 27/? (Buffy, Star Trek xover, G) by Hermione2be

[French Language] Do as Romans do, Chapter 41 (Dawn/Spike, T) by OldGirl-NoraArlani

East of Nevada, Chapter 12 (Buffy/Spike, R) by Blissymbolics

Along Came Two, Chapter 3 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by LilithSwan

Rebehold the Stars (Love from the Other Side of the Apocalypse), Chapter 17 (Buffy/Spike, R) by Asokatanos

Incarnate, Chapter 10 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Sigyn

The Great Escape from Oz, Chapter 3 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Melme1325

Little Light, Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Melme1325

The Watcher, Chapter 24 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by In Mortal

The Great Escape from Oz, Chapter 3 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Melme1325

What the Drabble? Vol. 2, Chapter 59 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by VeroNyxK84

The Watcher, Chapter 24 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by In Mortal

[Images, Audio & Video]

Meme: [Cordy is personal and Buffy is business] (worksafe) by cangelgifs

Gifset: [Buffy rolling her eyes in various scenes] (worksafe) by buffysummers

Gifset: Every Tara look: S4E13 The I In Team (worksafe) by lovebvffys

Gifset: Buffy Meme: [2/3 Seasons] Season 6 (worksafe) by lovebvffys

Fanvid: the way i still cant get over the drama between the three of them (Angelus, Drusilla, Spike, worksafe) by bananabeans88

Icons: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, S01E02 — The Harvest (2) (Buffy, worksafe) by nostalgc

Icons: Sarah Michelle Gellar in Buffy - 1x03 (witch) (worksafe) by nostalgc

Collage: [Collage of Lorne from AtS] (worksafe) by sunflower1109

Collages: [Collages of William and Spike] (worksafe) by sunflower1109

Wallpaper: Evil is fun (Angelus, worksafe) by revello-drive-1630

Artwork: …and what kind of artist would I be, to NOT draw Spike pouting? (worksafe) by anparna

Artwork: A Spuffy commission (worksafe) by lilibethdrawsreylo

Artwork: Lyrical, Chapters 1-11 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by scratchmeout

Artwork: Swapped, Chapters 1-9 (Buffy/Spike, R) by scratchmeout

Artwork: ... she just went to get some more paint, Chapter 5: Spike, blood ice lolly (probably worksafe) by flootzavut

[Reviews & Recaps]

PODCAST: The Harvest by Slayin It with Juliet Landau

Finished Watching Angel Season 4 For The First Time by Any-Instruction6273

Just saw lies my parents told me for the first time: I don't think I like anyone in it by TraditionAvailable32

PODCAST: Who's Writing All These Letters!? (S4E15) by It Stakes Two

[Recs & In Search Of]

ISO: Tarot deck guide book requested by No_Note_4365

[Fandom Discussions]

whenever i see buffy drinking unspecified alcohol my brain assumes it’s spiked iced tea by chasingfictions

are all watchers british. is that like a job requirement? by godsperfectprincess

the thing about buffy summers is shes always right by mag200

[About Sunnydale's police bad work] by thatg1rlcup1d

Doppelgangland! This should be a fun one! by agirlinsearchof

I really think if the Mayor weren’t evil, he’d be a good father-figure for Faith by agirlinsearchof

[About the thing pretending to be future Xander in Hell's Bells] by mag200

anyways i think my spike thesis is just that he cares. horribly, debilitatingly by automatonwithautonomy

Fashion: Never Kill a Boy on the First Date Part Two by theoverlookedoneedits1997

The text presents Xander as a good person who makes good points when he’s being the worst by snowkissedmonsters

The Worst Buffy Character Was Almost Fixed by Skanky Vamp

My attempt at an alignment chart for BTVS characters on the axes of Good/Evil and how much they are loved or hated by the fans by rfresa

Why did Angel vamp out when he first kissed Buffy? by debujandobirds

I really love the first half of season seven, it starts off strong. But once [the potentials] start walking through the door the rest of the season goes downhill by dabzandjabz

The potentials. The first evil missed a bunch of them? Plus more questions by Tsole96

Why does the Master have bones but none of the other vampires do? by smarten_up_nas

Season 5 is the Glorious season by Cailly_Brard7

[Articles, Interviews, and Other News]

CONVENTION: ICYMI James Marsters' Huntington Comic & Toy Con schedule by James Marsters News

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

Join the editor team :)

[chiyuki-hiro]

Wasn't planning on getting the BTVS tarot deck but, I stumbled across it while shopping & I really like it so far. 💜

[rraaaarrl]

getting to know you

thank you for the tag @yogi-bogey-box !! ✨

Three Ships: 

Doom/Reed/Sue 😌 (Fantastic Four)

Seven/Janeway 😳(Star Trek Voyager)

Natalie/Misty 💀(Yellowjackets) 

First Ship: Buffy/Faith 😏 (BtVS) - or if we want to go waaaay back before I knew what "shipping" was: Pizzazz/Jem ✨(Jem & the Holograms)

Last Song: Fiction, SUUNS

Last Movie: Ebirah, Horror of the Deep (1966) - (watching rn)

Currently Reading: The Star Trek Reader II by James Blish

Currently Watching: 

Star Trek DS9

Star Trek Lower Decks

just finished live action One Piece

going to watch The Terror ANY DAY NOW

Last Thing I Wrote: A web imaging guide for a client lmao

Tagging: @imperiuswrecked @hellishhurricane @spandexual @brw @cyprinella @doctorvondooms @doctordoombignaturals NO PRESSURE BTW

[rosieposiepie]

officially have my hands on the btvs tarot deck. Totally vibeless so far but thats what you get from barnes and noble im not gonna use this for a real reading. Anyway very excited to work on my reviews. So far i like most of their choices.

[quartersety-of-a-holsety]

Here's the haul!

The Pokemon booster is just three cards and my dad actually got that with another unrelated purchase he made, so he gave it to me. The five YGO packs are reprints of the first four sets and sixth set, and got the Obelisk structure deck on top of it -- now I have two tournament-legal Egyptian God cards! Only Ra to go!

My eternal search for a Rick Allen Funko Pop continues, but I did find my boi Yami Bakura!

I learned two things today: 1. The guy who played Snyder on BTVS also played Quark on DS9 -- yes, I'm an uncultured swine for not know this already, and 2. HE WRITES BOOKS! I got the whole trilogy as a boxed set!

The other two books came from the same booth -- the two guys running it teach a writing class so some of the books they were selling were written by their students. The former is an anthology and its proceeds go to charity and the latter was free since I bought four books

There were two button making stations: one for Sci-Port, and a different independent booth. Decided to recreate my tat -- not exactly, but close -- and jot down one of my favourite Doctor Who lines

DERG PLUSHIES ARE FINALLY MINE! Dragonair has a bendable rod and Dratini is knitted! So smol, so cute

The dragon egg was 3D printed and it rattled when I picked it up and was like "cool" -- didn't find out until after I got home that it opened and contained mini dice!

I didn't get a picture with Veronica like I did with Kurt, but I did get a signed Micaiah print -- I was fully intening on getting an Ash print, but once I saw Micaiah, that decision was sealed. The trainer card is something she was giving out to everyone who visited her table and it does hit a bit different knowing that she was supposed to be at Geek'd Con last year but had to pull out due to testing positive for COVID -- that said, I'm glad she was able to make it this year and it was worth the wait!

[oveliagirlhaditright]

Aww:( They canceled the Angel expansion that was coming to the Buffy board game? (This Buffy board game pictured below, I mean.)

That's really too bad:( It sounded so cool! But it seems like Covid really put a stopper on things (because it was supposed to come out in 2020, I guess, but then Covid happened then and, yeah.)

Anyway, this is what we knew about the expansion, I guess, for anyone who wants to cry with me:

"Didn't originally want to make this post, but at the same time it will help the most poeple if I just dump here the information I gathered. Anything written here is based on https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AjD-BNUS1dE and is planned, but not set in stone obviously.

16 locations and effects (that I could actually read, the video is in 480p): - Wolfram & Hart (Take 2 Money from the deck) - Archives (Discard 1 Item card to draw 1 Artifact card) - The White Room (After Monster activation 1 character here gains the Conduit card) - Angel Investigation (Draw 1 Item, then place your character in any location) - Hyperion Hotel (Take 2 Tomes from the deck) - Caritas - Pearson Arms (Look at the 2 top cards of the Artifact deck and return them to the top or bottom in any order) - St Matthew's Hospital (Take 2 Blood from the deck) - Sahjhan's Chamber (Take 1 Wound or discard 1 Magic supplies to slay 1 Baddie in any location) - The Oracles - Police Station (Choose 1 Baddie or Townie and move it to an adjacent location) - Seedy Motel (After Monster activation, 1 character here must discard 1 item) - Wesley's Apartment (Draw 3 items) - The Sewer - The Projects (Take 1 Wooden stake) - East Hills Teen Center (Rescue 1 Townie alone in any location)

These imply a number of playable characters: - Angel (obviously) - Cordelia - Wesley - Gunn - Lorne - Maybe whoever Elisabeth Röhm played but I doubt it - Maybe Doyle, although the prototype shown last year did not include him - Maybe Illyria, the prototype did have her included

Filed under 'Items': - Arrows - Blood - Money - Axis of Pylea - Band of Blacknill - Binding powder - Ethros Box - Fred's Invention - Gunn's Axe - Collapsible Sword (great addition in my opinion) - Holy Glove

Filed under 'artifacts': - Steps - Binding powder - Marigold - Delethrian Arrow - Staff

I might have missed some items and artifacts, but you get the gist of it. There is a Conduit card, as seen above. Meaning new mechanic I have no idea of, but that's cool.

But for actual items on the board, so far we have: Blood, Money, Stake, Magic supplies, Tomes.

The influence track seems to have its own set of tokens. Maybe the Conduit card has a link to that mechanic. There's still the concepts of Townie and of Monster activation.

Here's to that, hopefully it helps everyone looking for information on this game.

EDIT: Scratch that, Illyria wasn't part of the prototype, Fred was. See https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EQlRgeJnfXQ around 2:45. Prototype shows Fred, Angel, Cordelia, Wesley, Gunn and Lorne. But I believe the Cordelia card is actually a limited edition card for the Buffy boardgame, along with season 7 Eyepatch Xander and a special Anya card (or was it Tara, I don't recall precisely)."

"Wow, this information is a lot! You are awesome! Great job! Finally I got to the analysis.

I saw the abilities of the remaining locations: - Caritas (Gain the Future Foretold Cards. No one can Fight, take Wounds or kill Townies here.) - The Oracles (Discard 1 Item to remove either 1 Townie or 2 Wounds) - The Sewer (After Monster Activation, 1 Townies here becomes a Demon) - The Projects (Take 1 Wooden Stake, then convers 1 Townie into a Vampire Hunter)

Yes, the game will also contain 6 characters (They were announced at Origins Game Fair 2019 in that video)

- Angel (Starts in Angel Investigations with 1 Weapons) - Cordelia Chase (not shown, on the video an exclusive card for BtVS: Board Game) - Charles Gunn (Starts in The Projects with 1 Wooden Stake) - Winifred Burkle (Starts in Hyperion Hotel with 1 Tomes) - Lorne (Starts in Caritas with 1 Holy Water) - Wesley Wyndam-Pryce (Starts in Wesley's Apartment with 1 Magic Supplies)

!Character information may not be accurate. It is difficult to see on the video, since the Cards was not shown from close up. Also, it may not be final. It's strange that the characters in the starter Items don't have new ones as it was with Dawn in expansion.

New Cards: - Item Cards: Blood - perhaps it will strengthen vampires (Angel, Spike) or lure Vampires to certain Locations (as the antipode of Garlic). Well, or used for rituals. Money - at least to stay overnight at Seedy Motel. :D In fact, they can be used in many different ways. Recruiting Townies, Baddies, Vampire Hunters? Buying Artifacts, not shown new Items?

- New types of cards?: Conduit card - can be obtained in "the White Room". It is likely that this card is some kind of instruction from the Senior Partners. Perhaps this will help pre-empt influence WRH. Or is it an analogue Evil Card? Future Foretold Card - can be obtained in "Caritas" (like Lorne's "aura reading"). I can also assume that this is Cordelia's starting card (like her "visions"). Will we be able to predict future Event сards, as it can Anya's Special Ability? Or something different?

- Artifacts (in the "Items" folder there were screenshots from series - reference for future arts of Artifacts. The folder "Artifacts" contained ready-made art for cards. There are many artifacts, without knowing the mechanics of the game, it is difficult to even imagine what effect they will have. But I will try.:P)

1. Commercial - something related to an advertising campaign Angel Investigation? The first thing I found was a video filmed by Cordelia and Doyle. But it can also be a business card. Artifact to interact with Townies? 2. Tak horn - Artifact to slay MotW (like Mr. Pointy)? Perfect fit. 3. Ethros Box - Shall we do an exorcism to Possessed Townies? Discard Evil Card? 4. Binding Powder - Apparently we can block the exit from the location for monsters. It's like Dagon Sphere just the other way around. Cool. 5. Band of Blacknill - travel between dimensions? This artifact is perfect for expansion with other dimensions, but useless for main game. But its art is already done. Perhaps this is the main argument confirming that the expansion for Angel's Game will be. Or is it a ring that sends to Sunnydale? 0_o

6. Ra-Tet Talismans - This artifact will clearly not be one of the coveted. Thanks to this, the Beast began the apocalypse. I bet it's something like Gem of Amara or Box of Gavrok. 7. Muo-Ping - Preservation of the soul. It is unlikely that the game will have a mechanic for draining the Vampire's soul. I have no idea. Will likely be a bad artifact. 8. Delothrian's Arrow - Powerful and cool stuff. I think it will be something like Slayer Scythe. 9. Calendula Marigold - Removing wounds? 10. Staff of Devosynn - We will subdue the will of monsters! Or become evil? 11. Scrolls of Aberjian - a scroll containing the Shanshu prophecy and a way to resurrect a vampire in the form of a human. I think the artifact will be used for some new mechanic. 12. Gunn's axe - Analogue of Blessed Sword? This weapon must be legendary.

13. Holy Glove - Something too powerful. Kill a Big Bad with one touch? ^_^

14. Pylean collar - Something that constrains our Character (Fight Action?). I suppose that in order to remove this, you need to perform an Event Check. 15. Fred's Invention - Time to kill MotW. 16. Axis of Pythia - I don't know how this artifact can come in handy. Link to other dimensions? 17. Collapsible sword - Like other character items, this item must be useful. And have a variety of functions like the Faith Knife. 18. Orb of Ramjarin - Specific artifact for defeating 1 MotW? It's strange. 19. Mutari generator - Can this thing Stun a MotW like Troll God's Hummer? It would be helpful.

- New Tokens Vampire Hunters - a new type of tokens, that dusts Vampires (Obviously). But I don't think they will Wounds our Characters like Soldiers. Maybe only Angel, Spike, Lorne and Oz (as Werewolf) will be threatened.

Also, of course, the Game must contain its own sets Townies, Vampires, Demons, renamed Event Cards, Items Cards, MotW Cards (if they are at all), Action and Special Tokens etc.

Thinking about expansion, I absolutely like the idea of other dimensions. But in the series we were shown only a few dimensions: Pylea, Vahla Ha'nesh, Zealot's dimension, Holding Dimension. And only Pylea is well revealed. We definitely need Illyria, Connor, Doyle as playable Characters. The Groosalugg is suitable for Pylea. Harmony is the only remaining character from the main cast missing from the game. And the last could be Kate Lockley. But there are no famous names in this expansion. Many people don't like Connor. Doyle, Kate, Groo left and participated very little on the show. Only Illyria, but she was at the very end of the series. Sales will be minimal. It is highly doubtful whether the expansion to Angel: the Board Game will be released.:("

And then someone wondered if Spike could be in the expansion--which he very well could have been--and also wished that Gwen Raiden could have been there.

Oh, what could have been.

(This info is all from this Reddit post, btw.)

Oh! And it sounds like Connor was eventually going to be a playable character, too!

-cries again at what we lost-

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Leave Your Boots By The Bed (SPN x BtVS)

Sam Winchester x Faith Lehane

Word Count: 7350

Warnings: It’s smutty! Samhandling, the jockey is MJ’s favorite sex position, lots of discussions of trust and consent, unprotected sex, rimming, spanking, hair pulling, and dom/sub themes. Wee bit o’ feelings but in a nice way with a happy ending. Mostly just a whole bunch of marathon, athletic, probably-not-OSHA-compliant banging. 

A/N: This is the Sam/Faith side-quest (idk what else to call it) to Big Damn Heroes, but you don’t really need to read that to understand this. You can also read just the scene where these two meet over here. 

This is my entry for @idabbleincrazy and her “What Do You Mean This Is Classic Rock?” Challenge! My prompt was “Girl All The Bad Guys Want,” by Bowling For Soup, which 100% gave me Faith vibes. It’s quoted/referenced a couple times in the story. 

It’s also my (second) entry for @stusbunker’s Jam Basket fic exchange. This one’s for @thoughtslikeaminefield​, who deserves the world on a silver platter. I cannot give her that, so instead I offer Faith smut. Thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ for prodding and lotion-related reality checks, and to @fangirlxwritesx67​ for the read-throughs and for reassuring me that if I ever write Sam smut without a little psychoanalysis thrown in, she will worry about me. 

Title from the Jason Isbell song “Cover Me Up,” which I listened to on repeat while writing certain chunks of this. 

“What’s so funny?” Faith asks, looking at him sideways as they walk. 

“I just told you I come from another universe and your response is ‘cool.’” 

“Am I supposed to be impressed? I like it this way. No chance of you gettin’ all clingy.” 

Sam laughs. “Fair enough.” 

“Monsters, huh? You ever staked a vamp before?” 

“Stakes don’t kill ‘em in my world. But… beheaded a few,” Sam says mildly. 

“Yeah?” Her eyes sparkle. “So if we take the shortcut through the graveyard, you’re not gonna slow me down or get yourself killed?” 

He gives her an unimpressed look. “What do you think?” 

“Let’s go, then,” she challenges, pointing to the cemetery gate up ahead. “Bet I can dust more before we get to the other side.” 

“You’re on.” 

* * * * * * * * * *  

“Heads up,” Faith shouts, and tosses him a stake. Sam whirls and punches it through the thing’s ribcage, sending dust swirling just in time to turn and watch Faith launch herself at another vamp. 

“Is this where you take all your dates?” Sam wonders out loud, a little bit enthralled by the cocky grin on her face as she sends the vamp stumbling with one of those showy spin-kicks. 

“This is not a date,” she snaps, between solid punches. The last hit decks the vamp, and she stakes him before he can hit the ground. She struts toward Sam, brushing dust from her skintight jeans with a Cheshire cat smile. “I like my job. Fuckin’ sue me.” 

“Not complaining,” Sam says, sincerely. “Hottest thing I’ve seen in ages.” 

She looks up at him suspiciously, like she thinks he’s making fun of her, and Sam lets her see the heat in his eyes. The grin is back, and she’s grabbing him by the lapels and rocking onto her tiptoes, swaying into him with a little sigh and a lot of confidence. Sam slides both hands into her hair and ducks down to kiss her, sucking on her lower lip and tasting waxy red. 

Breathtakingly competent and moderately bitchy has always sorta been his type. 

“We had a bet,” he points out, before crushing his mouth to hers again. She makes a sound like a purr and wrenches herself away, grabbing him by the wrist and making a beeline for the path. 

“I’m gonna say we both won here,” she says decisively. “Let’s go.” 

* * * * * * * * * *  

She grabs him the second the lock slides into place, backing him against the door, already tugging at his belt. He yanks her jacket off her shoulders and she lets it fall, and then he grabs her by the belt loops, reeling her in until she’s pressed against him, hips flush to his as he slouches against the door. He bends to mouth at the long smooth line of her throat. 

“Talk to me,” he says, nipping at her earlobe. She shivers. 

“Fuck that,” she says hoarsely. “Didn’t bring you here to talk.” 

“Don’t worry, I can multitask.” Sam nibbles at the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, working delicate skin between his teeth, and pops the button of her jeans. He slides a hand down, teasing her clit with his fingertips, and repeats: “Tell me what you like.” 

“I like a lot less conversation and a whole lot more nudity,” Faith tosses back, but her voice is ragged, and she tilts her head to the side, baring her neck for his teeth. “I don’t fuckin’ know, dude, are we doing this or not?” 

He bends just enough to scoop her up, and she goes with it, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck as he cups her ass with both hands. When he turns them around, slamming her back against the door and rolling his hips, Faith lets out a breathy sound of surprise. 

He drags his open mouth up the side of her throat and repeats, “Talk to me.” 

She pulls him up by the hair, forcing his head back, rough and perfect, and Sam moans against her lips as she kisses him. It’s more like a bite, all teeth and heat. 

“Bedroom’s that way,” she says huskily. 

She’s so strong, rock-solid where she’s wrapped around him, that it’s barely an effort to carry her through the small, spare living space. She’s got her hands in his hair and her teeth scraping his collarbone, and Sam grits his teeth against the sting as he kicks the door shut behind them. 

“Get your fuckin’ clothes off already,” she rasps, tugging at his flannel, and he strips both his shirts off obligingly, leaning back against the wall to balance as he discards them without putting Faith down. 

She lets go of his neck to help him, holding herself up with no support other than her abs and her thighs. Sam’s just as turned on by that casual display of strength as by the sight of bare skin — no bra — when she peels her tank top off. He hoists her a little higher, until he can flick his tongue over one hard pink nipple. He blows a stream of cool air over the sensitive skin and she shivers, thighs squeezing his sides as she arches her back. 

“What do you want?” Sam whispers, and laves his tongue over the other nipple. 

“Fuck, anything, you’re killin’ me here.” 

“Anything?” He scrapes pebbled skin with his teeth, savoring the way she squirms. 

“Want you naked. Now.” She twists out of his grasp like a cat, sliding down his front and landing gracefully on her feet. Gracefully but loudly, that is; she crouches to deal with her big chunky boots, and Sam toes off his own. 

He grins down at her as she tugs on his belt, admiring the way her mouth looks: bright red from his teeth, now, with the last smudges of lipstick smeared down her chin. 

Sam bats her hands away from his zipper. He picks her up before she can argue and tosses her bodily onto the bed, and she bounces on the mattress, her hair spilling across the sheet like a dark glossy halo. She lifts her hips to get her jeans off, her torso bowing up in a long elegant curve. 

Neither of them hide the way they check each other out when the clothes are finally out of the way. Sam kneels on the bed, looking down at her, and she bites her lip, tracking the movement of his hand as he strokes himself lazily. 

“Is this what you want?” he asks. “Ask for it.” 

Her eyes sparkle, mischievous and defiant, and she moves so fast that Sam’s taken by surprise when she grabs him — he can’t remember the last time that happened to him, let alone in bed. She pulls him down on top of her and rolls them over, switching their positions, and Sam laughs breathlessly as she pins his wrists to the pillow on either side of his head. 

“I don’t like takin’ orders,” she says smugly.

“Is that true?” Sam counters. “Or have you just never met anybody who knows how to give orders?” 

She looks startled by that, but instead of responding, she straddles him — sinks down on him wet and tight and perfect — and Sam has to grit his teeth and close his eyes for a moment, adjusting to all that sudden slippery heat around him. 

There’s a gratifyingly breathless note in her voice when she says, “Does it matter? Point is, I can take care of myself.” 

She’s not fucking kidding about that part. 

She arches into a spectacular back-bend, supporting herself with one hand and zero visible effort. Her other hand is between her legs, rubbing her clit hard and fast as she bucks her hips up in little jerky rocking movements — and there’s an image that will (hopefully) be seared into Sam’s memory until the day he dies. For a moment all he can do is watch and try to memorize it. Then he presses the heel of his hand into her lower belly, grinding into her as best he can, and she clenches around him, soaking and squeezing in pulses so intense it almost hurts as she comes with a rough, husky moan. 

“This is gonna be fun,” Sam breathes, and he tugs her upright for one searing kiss before flipping her onto her stomach. 

* * * * * * * * * *  

When Sam offers to wash her hair, she reacts like he just proposed marriage, except instead of an engagement ring, he’d offered her a grenade pin — shock, disbelief, and more than a little fear. 

“Please tell me this is a kinky thing,” she says warily, and Sam laughs, tilting his head back in the spray and sluicing water from his face with both hands. When he looks down at her again, she’s still got her lip curled and her defenses up. 

“It’s not a kinky thing,” he says, rolling his eyes. 

She can’t get far in the shower stall, but she turns her back to him, and Sam’s forcibly reminded of a cat, licking her paws dry after accidentally stepping in a puddle. 

“I can wash my own damn hair. Shit, don’t get all touchy-feely on me.” 

Sam’s had a lifetime of practice at remaining earnest in the face of someone who’s determined to pretend they don’t want his kindness. He knows better than to give up that easily. 

“Come here,” he says, smoothing his hands up her sides. She doesn’t relax, exactly, but she doesn’t shy away. “Faith. Different universe, remember? Not a romantic thing. I just want to touch you.” 

She takes a reluctant half-step back, settling against him without a word. 

Sam squirts a dollop of shampoo into his palm, tilting her chin up so that her head falls back, and he massages her scalp with his fingertips, rubbing in firm circles. 

“Keep your eyes closed for me,” he tells her quietly, maneuvering her into the spray, but he shields her face carefully with one hand as he starts to rinse the lather out, making sure the bubbles don’t go anywhere near the fan of her spiky-wet lashes. “Is this okay?” 

“Yeah,” she croaks, barely audible under the sound of the water. “S’ not so bad.” 

“Speaking of kinky things,” he says casually. “We should talk about that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“What do you like? What’s your safeword?” 

“Safeword?” She snorts, dismissive. “What, you really think you could dish out somethin’ I couldn’t take?” 

Sam clenches his jaw. He’s glad her back is to him so she can’t see the expression on his face right now. 

There are no more bubbles in her hair, but he keeps running his hands through it, just to have something to do as he figures out how to say this. 

“I don’t think there’s much you couldn’t take,” he tells her softly. “I think you might be the strongest woman I’ve ever met.” 

“Damn straight,” she mutters, mollified.

Sam squeezes out some conditioner, finger-combing it through her hair. 

“You don’t trust me,” he says. It’s not a question. 

“Fuck no,” she replies promptly. “Why would I? Trust is something you gotta earn.” 

Sam’s mouth twists into a smile. “Fair enough. But… it’s not about seeing how much you can take. It’s about you trusting me to stop, no questions asked, if you say that word. You want me to take control, I’ll do it. Believe me, I’m down. But not until you trust me. If you think you can do that, all you gotta do is ask. Okay?” 

She takes a breath like she wants to say something, but she seems to think better of it. She lets out a sigh, looking at him — through him — and all he gets is a subdued, “Yeah, okay.” 

Sam tilts her head back gently again, working his fingers through her hair until the little crease of a frown fades from her forehead. He turns her in his arms, cradling her against his chest, and she lets him, resting her cheek over his heart. 

“Poughkeepsie.” 

“Gesundheit.” 

“Cute. It’s a city where I — I was in over my head, one time, and I needed help. That’s my safeword.” 

She pulls back, looking up at him, confusion written all over her face. “Why are you telling me this?” 

“Because I trust you.” 

“Really?” 

Sam shrugs. “If somebody offered you a lot of money to kill me, I’d sure as fuck be watching my back. But… as far as respecting boundaries? Here and now, just you and me? Yeah, I trust you completely.” 

Faith stares, scanning his expression for a hint of a lie, but when she doesn’t find one, her eyes soften. Her lips curl briefly into a pleased little smile.   

“Didn’t really take you for the submissive type.”  

“I’m not.” 

She cocks her head thoughtfully, gaze calculating, and prods, “Go on, then. You’re the one who wants to talk about everything.”

“No bodily fluids.” 

“With you on that one. There’s good freaky fun and then there’s just freaky. What else? Bet you’d look real pretty tied to my bed.” 

“No chains. Ropes, cuffs, that’s fine — no chains. Um.. pain isn’t a big deal. I’d rather you didn’t draw blood, but… as far as pain goes, don’t worry about pushing too far.” 

“Tryna be a tough guy?” 

“No. Just telling you the facts. Temperature play is a hard limit. Ice, especially.” 

“Okay. So… if I wanted to blindfold you, tie you up, and ride your face for a while…” 

“Works for me.” She gets out of the shower without another word, grabbing a towel, all business, and he laughs. “Somebody’s in a hurry.” 

“You’ve got like sixty seconds before the hot water runs out and it gets all end-of-Titanic in there.” She flashes him a grin. “Also, yeah. Let’s go.” 

* * * * * * * * * *  

She pretends she’s asleep, for a while, but then she slips out of bed, and her bare feet don’t make a sound as she navigates the apartment in the dark. He hears the toilet flush, water run, then the creak of… something. 

He gives her a minute to herself before he gets up, just as silent as she was, and follows the smell of smoke to the open window. She’s leaning on the sill, silhouetted by the filtered yellow light of street lamps, and when she takes a drag the orange ember flares in the dark. 

“Jesus, fuckin’ scared the shit outta me,” she snaps. The Boston in her voice comes out strong when she’s startled. When she offers him the last bit of the cigarette he takes it, grabbing her wrist with the other hand, and throws it out the window as he pulls her close. 

“Hey, I was smokin’ that,” she protests, voice crackly like there’s a popping fire down in her chest. 

Sam traces the curve of her cheek. He brushes one curled knuckle back and forth over her lower lip and then drags the pad of his thumb over the pillow of it, watching the soft give as he presses down. Her tongue darts out to flicker over his thumb, but otherwise, she’s motionless. 

Faith takes his wrist, holding his hand to her mouth, and swirls her tongue over the pad of his thumb. Then she slides his index and middle fingers into her mouth, sucking on them shamelessly. They slide from her lips with a wet pop. A bolt of heat thuds through Sam’s gut — he’s only human. 

“I like your hands,” she purrs, with one last suggestive lick. 

“Something in particular you want me to do with them?” he asks. 

She hesitates and presses a kiss to the center of his palm before answering: “I bet you have some ideas.” 

“Tell me what you want, Faith.” 

For a second there’s a deer-in-headlights vulnerability in her huge dark eyes, and she can’t hide the slight frown that flickers across her face. 

“Why do you keep asking me that?” she whispers. She’s still holding his wrist. Sam twists to lace his fingers through hers instead, letting their joined hands drop palm-to-palm. 

“Because sex isn’t fun for me unless everybody’s getting what they want. Call me crazy, but…” 

“I brought you here, didn’t I? You know I want it. That’d be good enough, for most guys. Believe me, if you do somethin’ I don’t like, I’ll tell you about it.”  

Sam closes his eyes, thinking of a half-dozen possible answers to that question. He considers telling her about Meg and Gadreel and all the other things that have slithered in over the years and used his body without his permission. He feels a phantom pain in his palm and remembers Lucifer’s taunt — you let me in — and he considers telling her about why he can’t stand the feel of ice or the rattle of chains. 

He settles for the most fundamental answer: “Because you deserve to get what you want. You deserve better than ‘good enough.’”

She digests that silently for a moment, and then she guides his hand firmly to her hip, before grabbing the other and placing it flat on her breastbone. 

“Just… touch me?” she asks, and Sam smiles, shifting closer, running his hands over her skin: fingertips in the dip of her throat, thumb stroking her collarbone, palm sweeping up and down her side, gentle and deliberately innocent. 

“Why does it bother you so much when I ask?” he says softly. 

She grimaces, and for a second it looks like she’ll brush it off, make a joke of it. 

“Not used to it, I guess. Most guys don’t ask. I think guys look at me, they make some assumptions, you know?” 

“Such as?”

She shrugs. “Guess they figure I’m down for anything.” 

“Faith.” 

“Don’t. Anyway, it’s more than that. Most people, they only offer to give you something if they want something in return.” 

“What do you think I want from you?” 

“That’s what’s got me spun out. Figured you just wanted a great lay, but… you’re still here.” She drops her gaze. “Bein’ all sweet and shit.”

Sam tries to hide his smile. “Should I not be?” 

“Can’t figure you out,” Faith mumbles. “You’re different.” 

Sam thinks about that for a moment as he folds to his knees in front of her. He drags his mouth down the center of her chest, tasting salt, and nips at the soft skin under her belly-button. 

“How do you mean?” He looks up at her again, holding eye contact as he traces her hipbone with his tongue. 

“I’m not the kinda chick that sweet guys usually go for, you know?” She slides her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, and Sam hums his approval. “The nice ones know better. I’m the girl all the bad guys want.”

“That seems a bit reductive, don’t you think?” 

“See, shit like that. Your mouth’s an inch away from my pussy and you’re using words like reductive.”

“I just want you. All of you, not just the ‘nice’ parts or the shit you show most guys.” 

“Might not be saying that if — oh. Do that again.” 

“Faith, trust me when I say that whatever you’ve done, I’ve done worse.”

“Jesus, can we talk about this later?” 

“What do you want?” 

“Want you to get your ass back in bed and quit teasing, for starters.” 

“I can do that.”

* * * * * * * * * *  

“The fuck did you find in the fridge?” Faith asks hoarsely. 

“Beer and pickles,” he says, glancing over his shoulder with a grin. 

She’s leaning against the frame of the bedroom door, wearing his flannel and nothing else. It’s open, baring a long slice of pale skin, from the dip between her breasts and down her stomach to a neat trail of dark hair. She looks like a centerfold, but rumpled and sleepy-eyed and real, human, in a way that makes it so much hotter. 

“You went out.” She frowns at the front door.

“Are you surprised I came back?” 

“Honestly? Not really.” Sam hides his smile at that answer. “Except that door’s supposed to lock automatically.” 

“It does. I picked the lock.” 

“Anything you can’t do?” Faith comes over and hoists herself up onto the counter next to him, eyeing the pan of bacon eagerly. 

“Never been good at walking in heels.” Sam passes her the extra large to-go cup of dark roast he’d gotten her from the local coffee place, and she grins. 

“Shit, you really know how to spoil a girl.” 

Sam puts a hand on her bare thigh, thumb running back and forth idly as he takes her in, tracing the shape of her body with his eyes. She gives him a raised eyebrow and sips her coffee quietly. There’s none of the wariness or put-on swagger from last night. She just seems comfortable. 

“No bruises,” he says, hand sliding up higher, finding nothing but unblemished skin where he knows he left marks. Every imprint of Sam’s teeth and hands and hipbones has melted away. 

“Slayer healing.” She leans back on her palms, inviting him to touch more. Sam pulls his hand away — pancakes to flip — but he smirks. 

“That’s a shame. They looked good on you.” 

Faith’s eyes go dark. “Yeah?” 

“I’ll just have to leave some more… later. Breakfast is ready.” 

Faith eats with an indecent enthusiasm that reminds him of Dean, but somehow that doesn’t surprise him. Which… speaking of Dean — Sam borrows her cell as they’re finishing breakfast, because apparently other universes aren’t included in his roaming service, and a sleepy female voice picks up. 

“Faith?” 

“Sam, actually. Is my brother around?” 

“Sam? Did you… you and Faith?” Buffy’s voice goes a little squeaky at the end. Then there’s indistinct scuffling. 

Faith swipes her index finger through the maple syrup that’s left on her plate, sucking it clean, hollowing her cheeks in a way that’s pretty fucking distracting. 

“Sammy?” 

Sam rolls his eyes. “Hey. You didn’t even notice I was gone, did you?”

“Where are you? Who’s Faith?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam says. “Did Charlie fix the thing?”

“Uh, hang on.” There’s a muffled conversation on the other line. 

Faith gets up, walking around the table to pick up Sam’s plate, her movements slinky and deliberate, her hips swaying, showing off tantalizing glimpses of skin as his flannel skims the curves of her body. He twists around to watch her go. Faith sets both plates in the sink and stretches, and the flannel rides up her thighs. 

“Pretty sure Charlie’s not awake yet either,” Dean says. “Late nights all around. Go team. Should we save you some breakfast?” 

“No, I’m busy.” 

Dean is saying something, but Sam’s not really paying attention. Faith is leaning on the table, bent at the waist, the flannel riding up to expose the lower curve of her ass. Sam turns in his chair to raise an eyebrow at her, pointedly adjusting himself in his jeans. She smirks like the cat who got the cream. 

“Just call this number when you need me, Dean,” Sam says abruptly, cutting him off. “See you later.” He hangs up before Dean can get a protest in. 

She bats her eyelashes, sugary-sweet. “Sorry, did I distract you?” 

“Don’t lie. You’re not sorry at all.” Sam shakes his head, mock-scolding, and gives her a light tap, mostly to watch the way her flesh jiggles just right under his hand. 

She grins, wiggling her hips and spreading her legs a little wider. “If you’re gonna do it, do it like you mean it.” 

There’s a long, weighted pause. 

“Are you asking me for —”

“Fuck yes I am.” 

“Faith…” 

She’s quiet but sincere when she says, “I trust you.” 

Sam exhales sharply, and because she looks nervous, now, he quips, “Should’ve known bacon would do the trick.” She laughs at that and relaxes, so he stands up slowly and asks, “Safeword?” 

“Dorchester.” 

Sam smiles — equal parts amused by the word choice and touched by the trust. He runs a hand down her back and then up again, taking the soft fabric with him, rucking it up. He takes his time, drawing it out to watch the way she pouts, positioning himself behind her and flattening a palm between her shoulderblades to push her down. She braces herself on her forearms. 

“Good girl.” 

“Well?” 

“Be patient.” 

“Fucking hit me already,” she says sulkily. 

“You can have anything you want,” he promises her, and he grabs a handful of hair, yanking her head back. “You just have to ask for it. Politely.” 

He hears the way she sucks in a breath, ragged and desperate, and he smiles. 

“Please spank me. Hard.”

“Good girl,” he repeats. He steps back and squeezes before smacking her, nowhere near hard enough to hurt. 

“C’mon, is that the best you’ve got?” she teases, laughing. 

“You know it’s not.” He brings his hand down with a satisfying sound, and Faith groans. 

“Harder,” she grits out. 

The next one makes her cry out, ragged and ecstatic. He hits her again, hard enough that his palm smarts, wrist snapping precisely so that the blows are spaced just right across her ass and her upper thighs. 

By the time he pauses again she’s panting harshly. He takes a second to admire her, the pretty shade of red blossoming on her pale skin and the way she’s arching her back, putting herself on display for him. 

“Fuck, you look good like this.” He kicks her feet farther apart and traces up her center with two callused fingertips. “So wet already, aren’t you?” 

She tries to push back into it, to fuck herself on his fingers as she whimpers, “More?” 

He lets loose, brings his palm down with a vicious crack, and he can see the way her legs start to shake. 

“Shit, do you have any idea what you do to me?” He leans forward, grinding against her, letting her feel how hard he is through his jeans, and when he pulls back again she moans. Her skin is hot to the touch. He runs his fingers over it teasingly before sliding two fingers into her cunt, curling them, pumping and twisting as Faith curses and clenches around him. 

“Need you,” she pants. “More.” 

“Let me hear you,” he says. He pulls his fingers out and spanks her again, and she shudders, head bowed, pussy glistening wet. 

“Please fuck me,” she breathes. He’s reaching for his belt before she gets the word out. 

“Since you asked so nicely.” 

He rubs the head of his cock through her slickness, teasing, and when she tries to push back, his shaft slides between her lips, dragging along her clit. He bites back a groan and plants his left hand solidly at the base of her neck, forcing her to drop down with her cheek to the table, holding her in place. 

“Shit,” she snaps. “Fuckin’ give it to me.” 

“What did I say?” 

“Want to feel that big thick cock, please,” she says. He can hear the wicked edge in her voice. “Want to feel you fillin’ me up when I come. Just fucking wreck me, Sam. Hold me down and make me scream… please.” She pauses and then asks smugly, “Fuckin’ polite enough for you?”

She could recite a grocery list in that ragged, raspy voice and it’d probably turn him on, at this point; as it is, he feels dizzy from sudden lack of bloodflow to his brain. 

“We gotta work on those manners,” he says softly, and pushes into her, just a couple inches, before sliding out again. She whines.

He does it over and over again — one torturously shallow thrust after another — working her open with little rocking motions that are nowhere near enough. She whimpers, and he watches, clocking every shudder that runs up her spine, every involuntary quiver as he fucks into her a little deeper, slick spreading up the flushed-dark length of his cock with each stroke. 

It takes every last shred of his self-control, but he forces himself to move slowly, deliberately, until she’s dripping wet and slamming her fists into the table. 

Finally, she caves, sobbing two syllables like they’re the only words she remembers: “Please — Sam — please — Sam — please —” 

“That’s better,” he sighs, and grabs her by the hips, shifting until he finds the spot that makes her twitch and squirm. She quakes when he hits it dead-on, and he sets an unrelenting pace, fucking her so hard the table hammers against the wall, a rapid-fire counterpoint to her broken, drawn-out cries. 

Faith bucks helplessly as she comes, and Sam lets go a split-second later, half collapsing forward as he grinds into her one last time. He braces himself with both palms flat on the wood, and his knees threaten to give out. 

His first coherent thought is amazement that the table is still standing, and while he’s trying to remember how to speak, Faith mumbles, “Shit, can’t believe we haven’t broken any furniture yet.” Sam laughs so unexpectedly he almost chokes, and maybe it’s contagious, because Faith starts giggling too. 

Sam maneuvers them onto one of the chairs in a messy pretzel of sweat and skin and half-discarded clothes. A surge of pure giddy affection swells in his ribcage, and he wraps his arms around her, squeezing tight, tickling her with his stubble against her neck until she shrieks and twists. 

Faith turns her head at an awkward angle to kiss him. Then she mumbles, “Is there more bacon? I could go for more bacon.” 

“Anything you want.” 

* * * * * * * * * *  

Faith stretches extravagantly as she gets up from the opposite end of the couch, and his flannel slips off her shoulders. She lets it fall as she pads over to the fridge. 

“Have I mentioned today how good you look naked?” Sam asks. 

She pulls two bottles of beer from the fridge and strikes a goofy, mock-sexy pose. “No, but go right ahead.” 

“You look really fucking good naked.”

“Not so bad yourself.” She passes him a bottle and sprawls out with her legs draped across his lap. “Why’d you put your clothes back on, anyway?” 

“Hot bacon grease and nudity isn’t a good combo. Trust me.” 

“Sounds like the voice of experience talking there.” 

“Not personal experience,” Sam says with a smirk. “Dean, though…” 

She laughs. He tosses the last bite of bacon at her, and she catches it in her mouth. 

“Not cooking any more though, are you?” she asks archly. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He obliges, though, stripping unceremoniously, and Faith catcalls. She crawls into his lap when he sits back down, leaning in for a kiss that tastes like beer. 

“Much better,” she says quietly, pressing her forehead to his. 

“Really thought I might’ve tired you out there.” 

“Honestly? Yeah, I need a minute,” she confesses, with a laugh. “Just wanted some eye candy.” 

“At your service.” 

She settles a little more comfortably in his lap, straddling him, and they exchange slow, lazy kisses. Sam can’t bring himself to stop kissing her. Her lips are soft and plush, and every brush of her tongue and nip of her teeth feels like a luxury, like something he should treasure, because he knows this intimacy has an expiration date. 

They stare at each other for a long moment, sweet and almost shy. 

Sam offers, “Want to watch a soap opera on mute and make up our own dialogue?”

Her dimples really show when she’s surprised to find herself smiling. She grabs their beers and the remote from the milk crate that serves as her coffee table, raising her bottle in a toast, and then she curls up at Sam’s side, naked and soft and bruised. She fits under his arm like she was meant to be there. 

It’s the happiest Sam can remember being in a long time. 

Normal, he thinks. This is what normal people do — breakfast and kisses on the couch — tenderness and softness and quiet everyday vulnerability. 

Then again, neither of them are normal, not really. Maybe that’s why Sam feels so comfortable with her.

* * * * * * * * * *  

This time, she passes him the shampoo without a word, sighing as he cradles the back of her skull with one hand and smooths the hair back from her forehead with the other. When he’s finished, hazy honey-colored eyes blink up at him slowly, like she’s coming out of a trance. It’s a dizzying change from the last time they did this. 

They haven’t said goodbye yet and he already misses her — misses this — but he knows he’s lucky to have it for a moment, however brief. 

The scalding water feels like heaven on his sore muscles. Sam tilts his head to the side, trying to stretch, and his neck makes a series of popping noises. Faith winces in sympathy. 

“Shit, man,” she chuckles. “You sound like Rice Krispies.” She maneuvers around him in the narrow space, reaching up to dig her knuckles into one of his many knots. Sam groans, exaggeratedly pornographic. 

Her hands are small, but strong, and Sam’s melting under her palms, increasingly loose-limbed and pliant as she works her thumbs in circles down the muscles on either side of his spine. 

“We should get out of here before I forget how to stand up,” he mutters, and Faith laughs. “I think it’s your turn.” 

“I like the sound of that.” 

She lays herself out on the bed, stomach down, and Sam takes a moment to stare. The way she’s put together — sleek muscle and lush curves under creamy skin — is like art. If she was anyone else, Sam might call her delicate, but he knows better; he knows exactly what she can do. She’s a hurricane disguised as a porcelain doll. 

He looks down at his own rough fingers, thickly callused from pencils and triggers and punches, and grabs a bottle of lotion from the dresser before he settles on the bed, straddling her hips. His hands seem massive on her shoulders, and when he drags his palms down, wrapping his fingers around the slim curve of her waist, he marvels at the way she almost fits in the circle of his grasp. 

He loses himself in the pleasure of just touching her — in the glide of silky skin under his fingers — in the soft grunts and hums she lets out when he works his fingers into a particularly tight knot. He sweeps his thumbs down the pretty little dimples at the small of her back and then lower, caressing and kneading. He’s careful to avoid pressing on the dappled purple-red bruises from earlier, but he skims them appreciatively, feather-light.

“Do those hurt?” he whispers. 

“Little bit. I like it.” 

He was already half-hard, aroused in a distant, lazy sort of way, but his dick twitches at that. 

He brushes his fingertips down the outsides of her thighs, then up the insides, watching the way she spreads her legs wider for him, but he stops just short of the apex, tracing out along the creases where her ass meets her legs instead. 

This feels like a form of worship. 

Sam bends to press his mouth to the small of her back, kissing one dimple then the other. He trails sweet open-mouthed kisses down the curve of her ass, lips dragging reverently over velvety skin, licking and sucking along the tops of her thighs, drinking in the way she whimpers and shivers. 

“More?” she murmurs. 

Sam hooks an arm around her, sliding his forearm under her hips to cant them up so he can lick a thick stripe right up her center, swiping his tongue down and up again with a slick slurping noise. The angle isn’t comfortable but it’s fucking hot; it feels like he’s completely surrounded by her, like this, and when he licks deeper, fucks her shallowly with his tongue, the taste of her arousal floods his senses, until the soapy-clean smell of freshly-showered skin is lost under salty-sweet musk and Sam’s mouth and chin are a mess of slick and spit. 

She’s trembling as she repeats, “More.” 

He drags his tongue in one broad swipe from her clit up between her ass cheeks, and she curses, pressing back against his mouth. He twists two fingers into her cunt, feeling her clamp down around his scarred knuckles and shudder under his mouth, a frisson of pleasure that travels all the way up her spine. He curls his tongue against tight muscle and crooks his fingers, circles her swollen clit with his thumb, and she muffles a sharp cry into the pillow as she comes. 

“More — please — Sam?” she gasps, still clenching around him, so wet he can hear the sound of his fingers pumping into her one last time. 

He slides on top of her, blanketing her body with his, kissing the nape of her neck as he presses into her. She reaches back and fists a hand in his hair, making a rough wordless noise that sounds like a question, and her fingers twist until his scalp stings and Sam groans. He sits up, straddling her legs, and his entire body throbs with the pulse of blood in his cock as he fucks her. With her legs together like this, pinned under him, she feels so impossibly tight — velvety-soft and steely all at once — he can barely see straight. 

She’s crying out with every gasping breath: “More — please.” 

Sam wonders what he could do if he could learn her body, learn what she likes, learn how to take her apart in seconds or draw it out until she’s a writhing mess… if he had just a little more time with her. 

* * * * * * * * * *  

Faith is wrecked and gorgeous on top of him, not riding him so much as undulating: deep scooping twists of her hips, rising and falling syrupy-slow like she’s moving underwater. There’s dark sweat-soaked hair clinging to her temples and a hazy-eyed, rosy-cheeked expression of bliss on her face. Sam watches a droplet of sweat trickle down between her breasts.

He’s losing his grip on time and the boundaries that used to sit so decisively between them. They’re both exhausted to the point that everything seems a little surreal, dreamy, right in that sweet spot where they might be too tired to come again but languid, sensual sex still feels amazing. 

“So fucking perfect,” he whispers. “Just like that.” 

Faith tilts forward to kiss him, melting against his chest as she rolls her hips. He wraps her up in his arms and flips them, still inside her, still twined around her. He rocks into her, testing one angle and then another, hitching her leg up higher around his waist, grinding and swiveling until he finds the angle that makes her choke out a curse and clutch at his biceps.

“There,” she whimpers. 

Heat starts to pool low in his gut, building slowly but inevitably. He leans down to kiss her, tasting salt, mouths brushing clumsily between deep ragged breaths. 

“Gorgeous like this.” 

“Sam,” she says helplessly, in the shredded whisper that’s left of her voice. “This — you —“ 

“I’ve got you, it’s okay. I know.” 

Neither of them are particularly coherent, but he knows. 

Gold rays of sun slant through the blinds in stripes, illuminating the amber in her irises and the suspicious shine gathering in the corner of her eyes. She smiles up at him in a way that leaves him breathless. It takes him by surprise, the trust in her expression and the heaviness in the moment, and he knows she can feel it too. 

Sam wants to shy away from it, but he can’t take his eyes off her. 

“Where’s that Al Green soundtrack when you need it, huh?” she manages, and it shocks a breathless laugh out of Sam. Faith giggles too, choked-up and overtired and hoarse. Sam can feel her laugh, feels the rippling clench of wet-hot muscle around him; his body reacts with this gut-punch of arousal, and he snaps his hips, driving in deep. She lets out a rough moan and writhes under him, raking her nails down his back. 

From there it builds fast, wild and uncontrollable and blinding, both of them clawing at each other, moving on pure animalistic instinct, lost in each other — lost in the moment. It’s the sort of orgasm that hits like a blackout, like Sam’s out of his body for a few seconds that might as well be an eternity.

When he comes to, he’s whispering nonsense into the sweat-slick crook of her neck — babbling endearments, calling her baby — saying sweet stupid things she would never accept if she was in her right mind, but she doesn’t argue; he’s grateful. In return, Sam pretends not to notice the tears sparkling in her eyelashes.  

They’re not sad tears, he knows that much. She’s beaming up at him, all this messy pure human happiness shining in her eyes. She’s beautiful. 

Eventually they stop shaking, and Sam whispers, “Nap?” 

“Yeah.” 

She tucks herself under his chin, and he strokes her hair, counting the breaths before she drops off. She’s asleep in ten, and Sam loses count at eleven. 

* * * * * * * * * *  

They’re woken in disorienting darkness by a jangling ringtone, and Sam’s immediate instinct is to grab the gun he keeps under his pillow. There’s no gun, though — just a warm naked girl draped over him, cursing like a sailor as the phone continues to ring — because there’s no need for a gun here. 

Faith answers the phone by growling a suggestion that sounds anatomically improbable, and Sam hears Dean’s gruff baritone on the other end. He snatches the phone out of her hand. 

“S’the middle of the fucking night, Dean,” he grumbles. 

“Dude, it’s nine. When was the last time you were asleep by nine?” 

“Fuck.” He knuckles at his eyes and fights the urge to hang up, turn the phone off, and burrow under the sweat-soaked sheets to sleep until he actually feels rested for once. “Yeah, okay, be there soon.”

Sam is about to apologize for waking Faith, but she sits up too, switching on the lamp, looking around bleary-eyed. 

“Gonna walk with you as far as the graveyard,” she says, through a yawn. “Vamps don’t take a night off.” 

Sam feels like he got hit by a goddamn truck, sore and achy all over, but the exhaustion goes much deeper than that. In spite of it, he’s smiling as they dress. 

They’re quiet, nothing but a soft, “You see my other sock?” interrupting the heavy silence. They don’t touch as they leave the dark apartment and head down the dingy stairwell into the warm California night, and they don’t talk. They’re pulling themselves together — rebuilding the walls that separate them from normal people — putting on the emotional armor that allows them to fight the battles they have to fight.  

They don’t wander away from the path through the cemetery, this time, and the monsters don’t find them. When they reach the gate on the other side, Faith stops. 

“You know how to get back from here?” 

“Yeah.” He pulls her in by her jacket to kiss her, deep and bruising. 

She pulls away enough to mutter, “Fuckin’ figures you’re from another goddamn universe.” 

“If things were different —” 

“They’re not, though,” Faith says, smiling ruefully. “And that’s for the best.” 

“Probably wouldn’t end well, would it? ” 

“We’d never get outta bed, the monsters would take over. Every universe needs its heroes, right?” 

“Right.” Sam cradles her face in his hands to give her another soft kiss and says, “Take care of yourself.”  

Faith steps back. “Always do.”

She turns, pulling a stake out of her jacket as she stalks away, off the path toward the darker corners of the graveyard. Sam watches her go. 

She doesn’t look back, but before she’s out of earshot, she shouts, “Quit starin’ at my ass and go save the world already. You’ve got work to do.” 

Sam laughs, and then he rolls his eyes and starts walking, smiling to himself. She’s not wrong. 

.

.

.

[ohhgren]

Suuuuuuuuuuuuper late but here’s my wip for this wednesday, figured I’d share a bit before it ventures into the nsfw territory (this whole part is sfw.) from a Oghren/Cousland/Isabela oneshot Tagging BTV: @kita-lavellan​ | @silvanils | @noire-pandora | @musetta3 | @jarakrisafis | @ar-lath-ma-cully | @morganlefaye79 | @dreadfutures | @midnightprelude | @drag-on-age | @nivenor-krosis | @inquisitoracorn | @dizmalzelenka | @kittynomsdeplume "Well, that is good to know," the pirate gleamed, glancing over her own cards at the Warden, teeth grazing her plump lower lip. “It’s your turn, sweet thing,” she added softly, her dark eyebrows disappearing under the brim of her massive, feathery hat. "Sweet thing?!" Oghren scoffed. He hadn't known Bryar all that long himself, but those were the last two words he'd have used to describe the Grey Warden. He recognised the pirate's expression a mile off. Was pretty certain he himself had been caught watching the Warden like that enough times, by Alistair, who went off to sulk, furiously rubbing his sword with a rag, or Wynne, who shook her head to warn him against it. It pissed Oghren off rotten, to see that shared, blatant interest from across the table. Only, now his competition happened to be some big, busty, gorgeous and glittering pirate lady, who was going to ruin his - already slim - chances!

Sod it! If he won, the Warden was just gonna have to cough up for some other long-legged blonde, and Oghren could go and pretend for twenty… fifteen… all of ten minutes... “Fuck it!” Bryar snapped, as she let her cards fly across the table, revealing her final hand and losses, fingers dragged through the gold braids of her hair. She bowed her head against them and groaned. The pirate bellowed in laughter, criss-crossing her feet. “Oh dear, such terrible luck!” Oghren grumbled. He couldn’t let the pirate win the sodding game! It was between the two of them now. Oghren was sure his hand was the winning one. It better well be! “HA-” He almost knocked the horns from the table, causing enough of a ruckus to draw people’s attention from all the cleavage - the flash of abs and ass - on display in the doorways.  With the pirate neatly placing her own in response, one look at her cards and Oghren knew he had won. “Alright, alright, you win, dwarf, you win!" The pirate rolled her eyes, declaring loudly, to settle both him and the muttering crowd. “There’s no way you could beat me at this,” Oghren continued proudly. “I’ve had a lot of practice. You see, in Orzammar, the Noble Hunters, while they wait for the nobles they often play with us warrior caste -” But the pirate woman was only half-listening to him, her dark, warm gaze had fallen back, predictably, to the sodding Warden, who seemed to be in some quiet altercation with one of the Pearl's patrons. "Don't I know you from somewhere?" "I think you are mistaken, good ser - " Oghren heard Bryar's clipped accent, unlike any other he'd heard at the brothel. Silky, unshakeable - sodding posh and proper. He didn't pity the man lingering at her side, dark greasy hair in curls to his chin, sneering down his hooked nose at her. He figured that was his mistake to make, deciding to antagonise the Warden, of all people. "No," the man continued, voice hoarse, "I do know yer. Your face is clear in my memory, see." Oghren shifted uncomfortably at the surprising venom in the stranger's tone. The pirate noticed it too, flitting to her boot, for a hidden weapon no doubt. This wasn't just some drunken fool stumbling in on the end of their game. There was something in the man's gait, his snide tone that set Oghren's teeth grinding. "You seem to have found us a little too late," the pirate spoke politely, shrugging, gathering the deck and shuffling them close to her chest, an act of distraction. "But, if you'd like to join us for another round -" "Oh, I've had you on my mind fer a while," the man continued. "One of Loghain's loyalists, I take it? They've always been subtle." Bryar hissed under her breath, a poisonous tone of her own. "I wonder, did he tell you how many thugs he has sent - and how many have failed?" "Loghain loyalists?" the stranger laughed, a harsh bark, "he's the bloody Teryn!" "Fergus Cousland is the Teryn." "So, it is you," the man's grin cracked open, split from ear to ear. "I remember you - and your mother… Nice looking family." Oghren could feel her trembling at his elbow. Not the shake of fear, but of unrelenting rage. Her fist was a white-knuckle ball in her lap. So, he wasn't fully versed in her human politics, he’d had spent enough time around nobles in Orzammar to recognise a blood feud when he saw it. It was the same on the surface as it was down below... Not the best time to be caught, in a brothel. Trapped between Bryar and their booth. The rest of the party had been sent back to camp, neither of them had their weapons or armor… "Hard to forget yer. Running around in those little nightdresses, crying for yer father… Did you know all that blood made 'em see-through?" That settled it. If he wasn’t getting laid tonight, Oghren would join her in a sodding good fight instead. "Just curious, did you ever find your father? You know, I can take you to meet him? Bryce Cousland's head's on a pike down in Amaranth -” CRUNCH. Oghren couldn't tell if that sound was the wood or the man's skull meeting the wood. In a blink, Bryar had gripped the stranger by the back of his neck and sent him diving face first into the edge of their booth. There was another expression he recognised, as the pirate veered back in her seat, eyes wide, mouth open, smiling.  Those were blasted bedroom eyes, alright! The Warden sure knew how to make a lasting impression. She'd already left plenty on him. 

[crimewizards]

btv! so we got double crossed, but before anything could happen, one of the dudes who was double crossing us triple crossed them and killed them all, saving us. this turned out to be a fucking oblex. yknow. an oblex. that one really fucked up monster? its that. it tells us theres something in the tower of the oil rig that we need to get, so we sneak into the rig and into the vents to get it. many among us jokes were made. we get to the deck of the rig, make a plan to dispatch the two domovye at the top, and it goes off without a hitch. straight up, this is the first time one of our plans has worked and it was GREAT. we get to the top of the tower and instead of finding a device we fucking find elwin. she’s just. she’s there! ta da! anyway turns out the oblex is experiment umbra, the thing we’re chasing/need to kill, the cards will take us to the location where they were made, which is some kind of divine place, and that she got double crossed and thats how she’s here. we knock her out again and escape the oil rig on a lifeboat after throwing bean grenades at the other domovye on the ship.

so we. we have elwin. and we have the key to getting to the bottom of phyrax. and we’ve got an idea as to where the cards will go. and we know where experiment umbra is. so now all we have to do is. fuck. i dunno. kill experiment umbra??? kill elwin?? we really really wanna kill elwin. dismemberment was suggested. julius caesar’ing her was suggested. we also considered mind control? but even when the evil wizard says ‘that’s fucked up’ then you know the idea is a little fucked up. but the session ended with a fucking epic escape which was awesome.

[winifredsandersonsbitch]

“On the Road Again”

Spike x Reader, BTVS

Warnings: Spoilers, some violence at the end.

Description: When Buffy insists that the gang gets out of town, you take it upon yourself to make the roadtrip as fun as possible. Not everyone appreciates your efforts. Set in late Season 5. Mostly fluff.

“Nervous?”

Spike slides in next to you in the tiny booth surrounding the RV’s kitchen table as Anya pulls out her cooking supplies.

“I know it shouldn’t matter, but—” you lower your voice so Dawn won’t hear “—we don’t know when we’ll be back. And if I’m not there to pay the bills, we’ll lose the house. Stupid, right?”

“It’s not stupid. Just try to take it one step at a time. First, we save you lot from mortal peril and ditch the scary beauty queen. Nothing else matters.”

He’s looking at you so earnestly. Like he’s really trying to help. And with Giles at the wheel, you realize that’s what you should be doing, too.

You reach into your bag and pull out fruit snacks and granola bars, piling them on the table in the middle. Ever since Joyce died, you’ve tried to be the kind of minivan mom you think Dawn and Buffy need, and your efforts are rewarded when Dawn pushes Spike over to make room for herself at the table.

Suddenly, he’s right here, cooling your rapidly warming skin with his own. He laughs as Anya pulls a face and you’re close enough to feel it. You didn’t realize how touch-starved you were until he pats you on the back, right between the shoulder blades, and you have to physically keep yourself from leaning into him.

“Sorry, Anya,” you say, sincerely hoping you didn’t ruin her semi-good mood. “I’m sure what you’re making is gonna be great, but chefs need their time to create and some of us have low blood sugar.”

Your eyes dart to Dawn, whose hands sometimes tremble in the middle of the day now. She’s been losing weight. She doesn’t eat dinner with the rest of you, only picks at her food until she can be excused. It’s hard to watch.

Thankfully, the ex-demon seems to understand your meaning and straightens up. “Well, you’re right about that. Even spam requires artistry. And cooks take pride in their food. Or so I’m told.”

She glanced at Xander, who gives her a thumbs up, and makes her way over to the tiny stovetop.

You’re still jumpy, although everyone’s getting along fine now and Dawn offers to go check on Buffy. It’s hard to shake the feeling that you’re trying in vain to avoid the unavoidable.

To give the others something to do, you bring out your card deck and set them up playing War. Spike suggests strip poker with a wicked smile and Xander is almost on board when you shut it down.

“Come on,” Dawn whines. “You never let us do anything fun.”

You arch your eyebrows at her as the boys laugh. In a huff, she crosses her arms over her chest.

“Well, I’ll sit the game out.” She’s got her bargaining face on. You feel yourself starting to cave, if only to make her happy. “You and Anya and the boys could play. I’ll just sit over here and color.”

Your eyes narrow. “Color?”

“You really want to see your sister in nothing but her tidy whities?” Xander asks. He pokes you in the side and you can’t help but let out a laugh. “Because if you think she’s bad at Go Fish, I promise you she’s worse at this.”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

You elbow Spike hard for that one. Dawn’s face colors in a blush and you insist that no strip poker will be taking place with minors in the room.

“What about after the little bit’s asleep, huh?” Spike asks you, his whisper raising goosebumps on your skin.

Quickly, you amend your statement to no strip poker, period. Everyone else pouts for a minute, but at least you’ve taken their mind off impending doom, right?

You can’t shuffle to save your life, so you pass the cards to spike and watch his nimble fingers cleave the deck in two. He’s fast, showing off, and soon you’re starting the first round.

Xander was right that you’ve never been good at card games, but today especially your focus is off. After a few rounds, you excuse yourself, or try to. Spike refuses to stand to let you out of the booth, so you’re forced to crawl over him, which he enjoys all too much. Dawn, fortunately, has been raised better. She helps you up and steadies you as you walk over to Giles.

“How about some music, old man?” you tease, flipping on the radio to Tom Petty.

“I quite enjoy the solitude,” Giles retorts. “Or relative solitude, considering you lot are trying to alert everyone within ten miles that we’re here.”

There’s a smile crinkling the skin around his eyes, though. Whatever he says, he’s happy for you to play hostess.

Petty croons out the lyrics to “Wildflowers” as you sit on the bench next to the door, taking it all in. Spike was right for once. You’re going to have to take things one step at a time. But this isn’t so bad.

You catch him staring at you as Petty sings about where “you” belong. A boat out at sea, a field of wildflowers, home. They all sound pretty good to you. But here, in this camper, is where you’re supposed to be right now. Surrounded by the people you love, even if one of them has locked herself away for the time being.

Then the freaking knights attack.

You’re on your feet, trying to pull Dawn away from the window when one of them stabs through the ceiling and almost slices you open.

You don’t even register your own scream until Spike is standing in front of you with his hand wrapped around the blade. You can see blood oozing from his palm and you’re worried his fingers will be sliced clean off, but his face is filled with something other than pain.

“Get down,” he tells you, and you curl up next to your sister, wishing for the peace of only five minutes before.