#do people even read for giles or am i alone here

[romeactivelycries]

Note: Yall don’t even at me idk where this came from 😭😭 watcher school detention with professor Giles that is all

Pairing: Giles x Reader

Request: no,,,

Gender: Neutral!!! (reader does wear skirt but no gendered language)

Warnings: 18+, and im serious yall 😡

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Maybe it was just time for the legacy of the Watchers to die out with you. Perhaps your great, great, great whatever wouldn’t mind the fact that you were going to completely flunk your dead languages exam, not to mention the fact that you were also missing all your extracurriculars stuck in detention. Guess that dream of being a chess champion really did die with your great aunt.

It was almost underheard of really to be in detention, watcher school was more of a college and you were all adults, and yet here you were wasting away and watching the time tick by as your dead languages professor scribbled some nonsense in the margins of some old demon journal. He huffed, slamming the book closed and letting his pencil drop on the table next to it as he turned and looked at the clock and then at you.

“You could at least try to do your work,” he grumbles, motioning at the abandoned Latin vocabulary sheet that was sitting at your desk covered in poorly drawn doodles. “You know I want to be here just as much as you do.”

You scoff, meeting his gaze and sitting back in your chair. “Then lets just go! No use in driving both us mad, and really who even uses Latin anymore? I bet even the demons don’t know-“

“Y/n.” His voice is stern as he brings his hand up to his forehead massaging his temples and wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“I mean really Giles, Latin?” His deadpanned stare causes you to shift in your seat as you look away and down at the sheet in front of you. Your voice comes out a soft grumble as you pick up your pencil and look at the first question “I don’t even know what it’s saying.”

His chair squeaks against the floor as he rounds his desk over to yours, resting one hand on the back of your chair and the other adjusting his glasses as he looks at the first question.

“A posse ad esse, would be used in what type of spell?” he reads off looking at you expectingly only to be met with your blank stare. He grumbles out a sigh grabbing your textbook from underneath the paper and flipping to the vocabulary in the back and pointing at a passage, “it means from being able, to being, or in plainer terms possibility to actuality.”

“So the answer is summoning spells?” you offer a small shrug and smile as you look up at Giles, only for your breath to catch in your throat as you realize the closeness of you both.

“Yes, good!” He smiles, motioning for you to write your answer as he adjusts his grip on your chair and clears his throat to read the next question. “ad libitum is often used in love spells, but why can this wording cause them to go awry?”

“Oh! I know this one!!” Your excitement startles him and you offer an apology with your eyes as you turn to face him, “It means your desire, so maybe the wording can make the spell to powerful.”

He grinds his teeth together, making an unsure noise as you roll your eyes at him and ask what the correct answer is. He motions for you to begin writing as he once again leans down by your ear.

“Sometimes our desires are unknown to us,” his voice is hushed, darkening as he continues his lecture. “We may think we desire one thing when really we desire something else, for example we may think we desire dropping out because we don’t understand the course material when really you’re too busy thinking about fucking the professor to pay attention to his class.”

Your thighs clench as your breath catches in your throat, the lead of your pencil snapping off as you push down too hard on the paper. Had you really been all that obviously?

“Giles I-“

“That’s just an example though,” he’s too nonchalant as he rounds his way back to his desk, sitting in his chair legs spread wide in invitation as his eyes dared you to make a move, to deny his accusation. He takes off his glasses, folding them and gently setting them atop his book, before looking at you expectantly and checking his watch. “I believe by now we must be the only ones left, janitor shouldn’t arrive for another hour.”

Your feet move themselves as you round your way to his side of the desk, anxiously picking at the hem of your skirt as his eyes trail up and over your figure. He reaches to take your hand, pulling you forward till you’re seated on one of his thighs, skirt riding up your waist, and damp underwear pressing against his pants.

“If you truly don’t desire this-“ he begins but you cut him off with a gentle kiss, letting your hands find their way to his hair tangling themselves into the soft locks.

“I want this Giles,” you pepper soft kisses along his jaw and he moans lightly as you pull his head back by his hair. “Please don’t stop.”

His hands begin tugging your shirt out of your skirt, cold fingers pressing their way underneath to find your stomach, causing you to gasp as his mouth finds your again. His tongue floods its way in and dominates over yours, you both moan as the kiss continues, salvia dripping down to your chest and wetting the fabric where his hands explore underneath. His nails lazily scrap as his finger press and twist all the right spots, doubling down on the places that make you gasp louder and moan sweeter.

Your lips are swollen and bruised as he breaks the kiss, eyes widening as you bite at his bottom lip and try to regain some dominance, leaving little love bites down his jaw and neck, his chest rumbles as he chuckles at your attempt. That stupid, smug accent ringing in your ears.

“You do have a lot of learning to do, don’t you?” He sneers, moving you off his lap and onto your knees on the floor as he scoots to the edge of his chair. You look up at him, waiting for his next order as he pulls you into a sloppy kiss, letting the string of salvia connect you as he pulls away and sits back.

“What do you want me to do?” You gasp out, shuddering at the thought of just letting him do whatever he wants.

“Whatever you truly desire.”

Your hands are on him before he can even get the words out, grasping at his belt and undoing it just enough to unbutton his dress pants and pull them down along with his underwear. You hadn’t expected him to be as big as he was truth be told, but it didn’t even matter as you began to kiss and lick your way down his length and then back up again. He reaches down, guiding your head to take his cock in your mouth as he grabs his belt from beside you. He roughly pulls you back by your hair, standing up and grinning down at you.

“As pleasant as this is, I believe you desire something more,” He motions for you to tuck your arms together behind your back and he loops his belt around your wrists securing them in place.

He thrust his cock back into your mouth causing you to gag as you look up at him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you choke on his dick. You whine and attempt to beg as he thrusts in and out of your mouth, you needed more, needed him.

“You’ve been a bad student,” his voice drops even lower, as he pulls his cock out of your mouth, slapping it against your cheek as your mouth hangs open and drool rolls down your chin. “I think you desire to be punished, so you can become good. Do you wanna be good for me?”

“Yes, please Professor.” You whine, opening your mouth to take him once again as he sets a brutal pace fucking your throat. You gag as he pulls you down to the base of his cock, holding your head before letting you up gasping for air and then doing it again. You loved every second of it.

Once he felt your throat had been fucked enough, he pulled back causing you to whine at the loss only to shriek as he tugged you up and bent you over his desk, hastily sliding his books out of your way. He makes quick work of flipping up your skirt, tossing your undies aside on the desk next to you, before making sure you’re ready for him, kissing and licking his way around before inserting a few fingers to make sure he wouldn’t hurt you, stopping with just the tip of his dick nudging at your entrance.

He’s pants as he leans down over you again, his lips against your ear as he tugs at the bottom of your earlobe with his teeth before letting it go, “Are you-“

“Enough Giles,” you whine pushing your entrance back against him. “Please fuck me, please! I’ll be good, i’ll do my work, please-“

He cuts you off as he pushes in completely, both of you moaning loudly at the feeling of him filling you up. He grabs your wrists and sets a slow pace, gently dragging in and out of you whilst letting a string of salvia drop from his mouth to where you connect. He tugs you even closer to him and your legs shake as he picks up the pace, fingers moving to dig into your hips probably leaving bruises you’ll be fond of for the next week.

“You gonna be good and cum for me?” He teases, fucking you even harder as you babble out nonsense unable to form a coherent thought. You were close, whining as Giles pulled out and flipped you around on his desk, lifting your legs up to his shoulders before plunging himself even deeper into you than before.

He was close now too as you clenched around him, squeezing his dick tighter and tighter with every thrust, and he leans down to capture your lips once again. It was all too much as he bit at your neck, continuing his relentless pace and flooded your senses with his hands everywhere. You strained against his belt, you wanted to hold onto him, pull his hair, push him away, and pull him even closer. It all became too much as you finally snapped and came hard on his cock, whining and saying his name over and over in broken sobs as you felt him release alongside you.

His lips found yours once again, placing soft kisses in between pants as you both came down from your highs. He pulls away, gently flipping your skirt back down and smoothing it out before helping you up and undoing your restraints. He kisses your wrists, looking deep into your eyes as he returns them to your side.

“Giles,” you begin, handing him back his glasses which he’s quick to put on as he buttons up his pants and tucks in his shirt.

“I believe we’ve learned quite enough,” he grabs your undies off the desk tucking them into his pocket and grabbing his briefcase from beside the desk. “Do remember there is a test Friday.”

You mouth hangs open as you stare at him, worry filling your gut. Your eyes meet and he leans forward pulling you into yet another heated kiss, before taking a step back.

“If you need any more tutoring, don’t hesitate to visit my office hours.”

You can’t help the grin the spreads across your face, one thats mimicked on Giles’ as he places a soft kiss to your forehead and then hurries to leave so he doesn’t get caught up in yet another make-out session.

You would definitely be visiting office hours.

[coraniaid]

98 + Fuffy

This one ended up being a bit longer than I was aiming for, sorry. A few years post-canon (but mostly canon compliant, except that I ignore the comics and that perhaps some people who die in Chosen or the final season of Angel are still alive here). Buffy POV.

Years later, she still has nightmares.

Bad ones: the kind that ... well, she's sat through enough college psychology classes in her life to recognize one of the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.  And she was an active Slayer for almost eight years, after all.  She fought ancient demons and gods and monsters; she risked her life pretty much every night.  She saw friends die. Died twice herself.  No wonder she’s still a little messed up.  

But knowing why they’re happening doesn't ever seem to help.  She still wakes up in the middle of the night, and for a minute -- or five minutes, or an hour -- she's just a scared little kid again, too afraid of the things that go bump in the dark to lie down and go back to sleep.  Terrified by the weight of everything the world wants her to do.  By the thought of having to be the Chosen One again.  

Dawn's always telling her she should talk to somebody about them.  An expert, she means.  A specialist. 

But -- even if it wasn't ever real -- her false memory of that time in a clinic when she was younger is too strong.  She doesn't want to go back there.  Not ever.  Or to go anywhere even a little bit like it. She doesn't want to be a freak in somebody's lab -- poked and prodded and tested and restrained.  She just wants to be herself.  She just wants to be Buffy.

So she still has nightmares.  Sometimes she dies: drowning alone in the dark, unable to move or cry for help; tumbling from a tower in the sky; not strong enough to drag herself out of the grave before the dead soil fills her lungs and she suffocates below the ground.  And sometimes she doesn't die.  Sometimes the dreams are much worse than that.

The thing is, they never seem to happen when she expects.  Never when it feels like they should.  Significant milestones come and go without even a bad dream -- she’d slept right through the anniversary of that last, desperate fight under Sunnydale, not even waking up once -- and then other times, without warning, she'll spend a whole week unable to sleep at all, or waking up shaking and sweating every time she tries.

It all started after she decided to step back from the Slayer Organization she'd helped set up.  Half a year in charge of that was enough, she'd told herself.  Living out in some remote castle in Scotland, cut off from the normal world ... that wasn't who she wanted to be anymore. That wasn’t what she’d been hoping for when she said goodbye to Sunnydale.  She wasn't the one and only Chosen One any more, after all.  Maybe it was time to stop pretending.  Maybe it was time to grow up.

So they'd held a vote on who would replace her, made it all official. And then, when it was over – and after she'd congratulated Kennedy as sincerely as she could manage -- she'd packed her things up and moved back to California.  Northern California though, this time.  San Francisco.  SoCal still had a few too many unpleasant memories (the bits of it that weren’t literally underground these days).  

Once she’d arrived, she'd settled into that normal life she'd always told herself she wanted.  Went back to college.  Signed up to be an English major. Bought a house, with some of the old Watcher’s Council money that GIles had passed on to her.  She'd even gotten married, a couple of months ago, just a little while after graduating, however unreal that still feels.  Willow's been telling her she should look into grad school, but she’s not sure whether she wants to follow in her younger sister’s footsteps quite so soon.

So, yeah, everything's been going really well.

Except that, after a few months, the nightmares had started. 

That's why at 3 AM she finds herself downstairs in the kitchen, pretending to read a book, wondering if it would be a bad idea to go out for a run.  This is a pretty safe neighborhood, but still, she might get lucky.  Something supernatural out there might be too stupid to stay away. 

If she’d thought it would help, she’d be out there already.  But would it?  She doesn't really know. She doesn't know what to do.

And while she’s deliberating, a creaking floorboard reminds her that she's not alone.

"Hey, B," a familiar voice says sleepily.  "What's up?"

Buffy had never asked Faith to come with her when she left Scotland.  Actually, she'd kind of assumed she was leaving the Slayer Organization in Faith’s more than capable hands: the girls all still loved her, after all, all idolized her in a way they'd never quite seemed to treat Buffy herself.  (The same way she remembers Dawn treating her, the first few months after Faith arrived in Sunnydale, even if intellectually she knows that that’s not what really happened.)  She'd assumed it would be Faith, not Kennedy, who would be replacing her as leader.  Right up until the point she told Faith about her plan to go back to the States, and the other Slayer had just nodded and asked her when they were leaving and whether she’d already booked a flight.  Like it wasn't even a question whether she'd be coming with her.

She'd stuck with Buffy for four years since.  Not always sharing the same house, but always close by.  She’d listened to her complain about her course load, or bad professors, or unfairly difficult exams, or let her rave and enthuse about analysis of poems or novels which she isn't sure Faith has ever read.  It’s been good – really good, better than Buffy had expected – to have a familiar face around.  To not be doing this all by herself.  It’s been good for her to have Faith.

(The two of them are still going patrolling together most nights too, however retired they might be officially.  She thinks that that's an itch that never really goes away for anyone.  Though there weren’t many active vamps in the Bay Area even when she’d first arrived, and these days there are barely any.)

Faith’s stuck by Buffy for almost as long as anyone.  And now she's here with Buffy in the middle of the night, wearing a pair of Buffy's old pajamas and a concerned look on her face, and Buffy can't even bring herself to face her.

"Glory again?" Faith guesses.

Buffy shakes her head, wordlessly.  Keeps her eyes glued to the book she isn’t reading.

It's true that those are some of the worst of the recurring nightmares.  Everything about that year is painful, and worse in the dreams.  Dropping out of college, or being found out as a total academic fraud, as somebody who shouldn't even have been let into college in the first place.  Losing her Mom, again and again, for different reasons every time.   Not being able to save Dawn, or not being able to want to save Dawn.  Watching her fall, or forgetting her entirely: stumbling across her broken body lying on the ground and only seeing a stranger.  Thinking that she'd always been an only child and always would be.  Sometimes, in those dreams, it's almost comforting when the world drifts inexorably into hell.  

But those aren't the dreams she's been having lately.  That's not what's keeping her from sleeping.  It’s Faith.  That’s who she’s been dreaming about.  That’s why she can’t sleep.

"I killed you," she mumbles, putting the book down but still not quite able to make eye contact.

It all feels so real, even now. Even with Faith – the real Faith, not a dream – sitting only a couple of feet away from her, patiently waiting for her to explain.

"We were fighting, just like we ... before," she goes on. "Just before graduation.  I didn't want to, but I couldn't stop.  And when I ... at the end, you didn't fall.  I stabbed you, and you bled to death in my arms.  I killed you."

The other woman shakes her head.

"Don't know if you've noticed, but I'm tougher than I look," Faith says.  "Haven't even died once, unlike some Slayers I could mention.  And lucky for me, all the cool chicks dig scars."

She pulls her pajama top up slightly to demonstrate.  There’s still a pale scar there, yes, even after all this time.  Proof of what Buffy had done: not just in a dream, but in real life.  Something she’ll never be able to undo.  She reaches out, just for a second, as if she was going to touch it.  To trace the faint mark she’d left across her fellow Slayer’s skin.

"Did ... does it hurt?"

It's not the first time she's asked the question.  Guesses that it won't be the last.

"Sometimes," Faith admits.  "A little."

She used to pretend that it didn't, Buffy remembers.  But they’re more honest with each other these days.  They’ve had to be.

"You shouldn't be beating yourself about this, B," Faith says carefully, sitting down next to her.  "It was a long time ago, and you did what you had to do.  Like you said back then, I'd have done the same if I had the chance.  Hell, I did a lot worse.  I think we both know that I’m the one who should be apologizing"

Buffy remembers.  How powerless she’d felt, how violated, how justified she’d felt in her rage afterwards.  But she’d thrown the first stone, hadn’t she?  She’d crossed the invisible line first.  And in truth, when she thinks about things she’s sorry for doing to Faith, the scar is only the start of it.

"It's not just the fight," Buffy admits.  "It's … it’s everything about that year.  I could have ... I should have done so much more for you.  But I never knew how scared you were.  I never realized that you were so alone.  I think … I think I didn’t want to see it."

Faith frowns.  Gets that look in her eyes that Buffy knows means she’s fighting down the urge to say something impulsive.  

"I was scared," the other Slayer admits, slowly.  "You’re right.  And angry. All the time. And a little bit crazy too, I think, at least towards the end.  But I don't think you could've talked me out of it.  Not you, not anyone. None of it was ever your fault.  I think I had to figure that stuff out on my own.  Had to be honest with myself about what I felt, and what I could do about it."

"I should have tried harder," Buffy says stubbornly, not wanting to let this go. Because arguing with Faith, fighting with her – that’s always been easier, hasn’t it?  That’s always been something she could do.

She’d had a whole life of her own, back then.  A mom, and a sister, and a big house.  She could have tried to share it with her.  That would have been better, wouldn’t it?  But she hadn’t wanted to share.  She’d refused.  That was what she’d told her Mom, the very first night Faith came for dinner.  That Faith trying to spend time with her was creepy.

(That was one of the only nights that Faith had ever come for dinner, she realizes now.)

"You did try, Buffy," Faith says firmly.  "You were the only one who ever did.  You were the first person in my life who ever tried to look out for me, even after everything I did.  I'm not ever going to forget that, and you shouldn’t either."

Part of Buffy wants to believe that.  She does.  And she knows her friends would all agree.  Vocally, some of them.  But it’s too easy though, isn’t it?  Too convenient.  To make excuses, to find reasons why you didn’t have to help.  To make yourself seem better than you ever really were.

“You came to Sunnydale looking for me,” Buffy says, putting her hand on the table, brushing against Faith’s.  “You wanted to be with me.  And I tried to murder you.”

They’d never talked about it at the time, not openly.  But looking back, she must have seen it, mustn’t she?  How much time Faith wanted to spend with her, how little she cared about anyone or anything else.  How pleased she’d been when Scott Hope dumped her, how furious she’d been when she found out about Angel later.  How could Buffy not have seen what was right in front of her, unless she was trying to ignore it?

"You did what you had to do," Faith tells her again, more firmly this time. She rests her other hand on Buffy’s.  Squeezes it lightly, just for a second.

Buffy sighs.

"You always say that," she says, trying not to sound like she’s complaining. 

"Always will," Faith nods equably.  "Because it's the truth."

Buffy shakes her head.

"God, Faith, you were just a kid.  If I--"

"So were you, B,” Faith says.  “We all were."

She pauses, looks a little uncomfortable.

“Look, Buffy,” she says, “I dunno if it helps at all, but when I was in prison, the shrink we had at group sessions used to tell us that an apology had to convince two people.  The person you’d wronged, and the person you wanted to become.  So, uh.”

Buffy listens.  Tries to be patient.  Willow had pulled some tricks after Sunnydale – a bit of magic, a little old-fashioned hacking – and these days nobody seemed to remember that Faith was supposed to be behind bars.  But Faith remembers, she knows that, and she knows how hard it is for her to talk about that part of her life.  

“He used to have us write them down,” Faith adds.  “I guess there are a lot of unsent letters to you back in the big house that I forgot to take with me when I split. None of them were ever good enough anyway.  We were meant to write them down, and then try to imagine how the people we were going to write to might reply.  Try to put ourselves in their shoes, I mean.”

Faith fidgets a little in her chair, as though she’s having second thoughts about this speech.  Or maybe because putting herself in Buffy’s shoes was a large part of why she’d ended up in prison in the first place.

“The point is … maybe that’s stupid.  Maybe it was only ever a way to get some of us to shut up for a few minutes.   But I thought maybe we could try it.  Only, instead of you having to imagine how I’d respond, you could just listen to me.  Maybe copy what I said.  Say it yourself.”

Buffy nods slowly.  Faith was right: it does sound a little stupid.  But at the same time, she guesses it can’t hurt.  She manages a weak smile.  Nods her approval.  Waits for Faith to tell her when to start.

“I’m sorry I didn’t help you more, when we were both kids, Faith,” she says, when the other Slayer gives her the signal.  “I’m sorry I didn’t let you into more of my life.  I’m sorry I stabbed you.”

“I hear you, B,” Faith says seriously, brown eyes focused on her.  Gestures for her to repeat it, to keep echoing her as she continues.  “I get what you’re saying.  And I forgive you.  I know you helped me as much as you could.  More than anyone else.  Way more.  And for what it’s worth, I don’t think I could have been happy back then unless I was the only person in your life, the way you were for me.  Unless you gave up on your mom and your Watcher and all your other friends.  And that wasn’t ever fair to ask of you.  That wouldn’t have been healthy, for either of us.”

Faith pauses, face serious, waiting for her to finish repeating that all back to her.  Leans in a little closer, like she’s sharing a secret.

“Plus,” she says, waggling her eyebrows, “You kind of looked amazing when you stabbed me.  Total smokeshow.”

“Faith!” Buffy protests, feeling herself starting to blush the way she had when she was younger.  “I am not repeating that.”

Faith smirks, and Buffy lets herself think.  it still seems kind of stupid, even without that last part.. She’s not naive enough to think it will fix everything. But at the same time, she thinks that maybe it was useful.  A little bit, anyway.  

“Thank you,” she says.  “That helped.”

For a minute neither of them says anything.  The only sound in the house is the ticking of the clock over the kitchen table.  Faith still hasn’t let go of her hand.

"Still … if I could go back and change things, I would," Buffy admits. "Back to the beginning, I mean. I wish that I--"

She doesn't finish the sentence.  You don't spend years of your life in touch with Anya, on-again  and off-again vengeance demon, without realizing it might not be a good idea to make open-ended world-changing wishes out loud in the middle of the night.  (She thinks Anya’s mostly human these days, but it’s hard to keep track.  Maybe she should write more.)

"It … uh.  It hasn't been all bad, has it Buffy?" Faith asks her, suddenly sounding almost nervous. "There's some things you wouldn't change, right?"

She’s looking at one of the rings she’s wearing, Buffy sees, on the hand that’s resting on top of her own.  A silver one. 

Faith's always loved wearing rings.  Has done ever since Buffy met her.  She’s got a whole collection of them.  This one is a little different though.  Brand new, something Faith’s been wearing all the time for weeks now.  This one Buffy helped pick out herself; a perfect match to the ring she's wearing on her own hand.  It turned out Faith was a bit of a traditionalist that way.

"You wouldn't change this, would you, B?" Faith repeats softly, staring down at the ring on her left hand.

"You know I wouldn't," Buffy says firmly.  "That goes without saying."

She pauses.  Faith’s looking at her expectantly.  Waiting for her to take the lead.

"But you want me to say it anyway, huh," Buffy realizes.

Well, she can do that.  She guesses it’s her turn to be the one doing the reassuring anyway.  Buffy steps up, leans in, wraps her arms around the other Slayer and kisses her softly on the forehead the way she knows she likes.  Feels Faith shiver slightly under her touch, leaning into it the way she always does. Remembers suddenly just how thin those pajamas are; how little Faith is wearing underneath. 

"I've made a lot of decisions in my life that I regret," Buffy says softly, "But you, Mrs. Summers, are not one of them."

Faith was a bit of an unexpected traditionalist about that as well.  Buffy had been all for both of them keeping their names, or hyphenating them,  sharing them, but the other Slayer had insisted.  Had, finally, admitted that she just didn't like her old last name at all, that there was a reason she'd never used back in Sunnydale, why it had taken Buffy so long to even learn what it was.  "Faith Summers, though,” the other woman had said quietly, "I think that's a name I could be proud of.  That's someone I'd like to be."

The ceremony itself, back in June, had been a pretty small affair.

They’d only allowed themselves a handful of guests each.  Willow and Kennedy; Xander and Andrew; Dawn and Amanda.  Faith had spent weeks threatening to invite Angel to play the part of her best man – especially once she realized just how mortifying Buffy found the prospect – but in the end she'd opted to be merciful and just invited Gunn and Fred and Wesley up from LA, plus Robin from wherever he called home these days.  Buffy has a feeling neither Angel or Spike minded missing out on this experience.  

And Giles had been there too, flying out of England for the first time in almost two years.  She'd been so pleased he could make it.  It was a little bit like ... well.  He was family, wasn’t he?

"Your mother would have been very proud of you today," he'd told her at the airport, when she’d rushed up to meet him and totally embarrassed him with a hug.  "Proud of you both.  As am I.  But then, I hope you already knew that."

And then – because of course nothing could go smoothly for long – they'd had to reschedule the whole thing almost at the last minute; pushing everything back by a week so they could all make an emergency trip to Cleveland.  

Even though she and Faith were pretty much retired now -- and even though Kennedy was too, as of last year, along with Amanda and Rona and most of the other former Sunnydale Potentials -- they still got called up for the main events.  For the real apocalypses, when the Organization needed its biggest guns.  This time it had been the Sisterhood of Jhe again, Buffy thinks.  Trying to open another Hellmouth, almost ten years after the first attempt.  Their timing had sucked, but at least she'd been able to take her frustrations out on a few big demons.  She's sure Faith had been a lot more vicious than usual in her Slaying too.  Between them, they hadn't really left much of anyone to interrogate afterwards.  Maybe it was a good thing that that wasn’t something either of them had to worry about anymore.

(Buffy had met Kennedy's replacement as head of the Organization briefly in Cleveland, while they were being briefed before the mission.  She was a nice kid called Satsu, who had been gratifyingly starstruck at meeting both of the original Slayers, but who had still kept her head enough to give them their orders just like everyone else.  It was good to know that the other Slayers -- the new ones, the ones young enough not to have retired yet -- were in competent hands.  And Buffy knows that they have been, all along, whether that means Kennedy or Satsu or whoever will come after her.  That's part of why Buffy doesn't regret her decision to step back from that side of things.  Not for a minute. Even if it has meant a few more sleepless nights.  Nobody can carry that much weight for long.)

And a week after Cleveland, that was it: Faith and Buffy, married. Not because of a wish, or one of Willow’s spells gone wrong, but for real.  Forever.  Legally binding, recognized by the State of California and everything (although a lot of awful people seemed awfully unhappy about that).  When Buffy had been younger, she could never have imagined any of this.  She'd thought that being a Slayer meant that anything like this was impossible.  That this was something only normal girls got to have.  And she'd never thought that she’d want it quite so much: her own parents’ marriage hadn’t exactly endeared her to the institution as a whole. Even a couple of years ago, she’d never have admitted to anyone quite how happy it would make her.  

And she is, Buffy realizes.  Even with the odd nightmares.  She’s sitting in her kitchen with the love of her life, waiting for the sun to come up and a new day to begin, and she’s never been happier.  She thinks her younger self would be delighted to know that, somehow, everything had worked out okay.

Maybe she's been looking at things the wrong way all this time.  It's not that the  nightmares started when she moved out here. It's that the waking nightmares – the real world nightmares, the kind with teeth and names and minds of their own – had become rare enough she finally started noticing the other kind.

"Look, B, I've got to get back to bed or I won't be any use for anything at work tomorrow," Faith says, fighting back a yawn, shooting an apologetic look at the clock on the wall.  “Guess I’m not as young as I used to be. Good thing I’m still wicked hot.”

Buffy nods absently.  She's still not sure what she's going to do next.  Whether she's heading off for that late night run, or ...

"I'll see you in the morning before I head out for work," Faith promises.  "Unless, uh."

Buffy makes a decision.  Stands up.

"Well," she says slowly, "I guess it wouldn't be very chivalrous of me to leave my wife alone all night, would it?"

Faith grins at her wolfishly. Just the way she had when they'd first met. Like a co-conspirator; a partner in crime. As if the two of them still had a secret that nobody else could share.  And for a second, it's like no time has passed at all.  Like they could still be dancing together back in the Bronze, just the two of them, or out on patrol looking for vampires in some forgotten Sunnydale cemetery that's long since been buried deep in a hole in the desert.  When it seemed like high school was going to last forever.  When they'd both only been able to focus on the present; on the immediate demands of the here and now.  Finding the next vamp, dusting it, and moving on to the one after that.

Buffy puts her arm around Faith's waist, fingers resting carefully just below her scar, walks with her towards the stairs.  Maybe they weren't so wrong, back then.  Maybe this is what matters.  Maybe this is all that ever did.  Just the two of them, just the present moment.  And when the other Slayer looks up at her, when she leans her head to rest on her shoulder, something in her eyes makes Buffy sure they're both thinking the same thing.

"There's my girl," she breathes.

[junkshop-disco]

Just posted a new chapter so what better time for a fic meme. Tagged by @magicalrocketships but idk if I have any better screen grabs than theirs.

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

38, which makes the average word count completely ridiculous.

2. What's your total ao3 word count?

1,048,397. Average word count 27,589. Brevity, I don't know her.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Downton Abbey, Fate the Winx Saga, Good Omens currently.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Honeysuckle Arch

Learning to Speak the Language of Flowers

An Equal and Opposite Reaction

Instalments

The Could in People

Whenever I look at the stats, I'm taken aback at just how skewed my sense of which fics are the most popular is. Because I would not have guessed some of these at all.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to, but I am--at heart--a deeply anxious squirrel masquerading as a person and any sort of interaction with people I don't know well can sometimes be too much for me to handle. When my anxiety is bad, I imagine that every single comment will be about how shit my writing is and what an awful person I am, so I can't read them right away, let alone reply. I have to work up to them and do a couple at a time and I always intend to reply but sometimes, weeks/months/years pass without me feeling up to it and then it feels too awkward. Right now my anxiety is much better thanks to lots of medication and some pretty hefty life changes, so I'm more able to engage with them like a vaguely normal person, but sometimes if I have a bad week, opening the comment box to reply 'thanks! Glad you liked it' makes me feel like James Bond sitting nose to nose with an armed bomb. I do hold onto comments, though. I screen grab ones that really resonated and re-read them when I feel down. They mean a great deal to me, even if I can't always say so in a timely fashion.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

It's definitely a Merlin fic, possibly Doubt Creeps In? That whole thing is pretty angsty and there's no real resolution. I wrote a few angsty endings in Merlin fic.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Idk that I've ever written truly happy ending. I've written cute endings, give-them-a-break endings, but I don't know if I'd describe any of them as happy. I don't tend to go in for them. Nothing winds me up more than an epilogue with a pasted on happy ending. I have been known to hurl a book across the room.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't for a while but I used to when I wrote HP fic. My favourite ever was 'you should be flayed for writing this. I hope you die.' I still laugh when I think about it.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes. All kinds? I have written the odd fade to black in my time and also the most unremitting filth in all flavours of vanilla to kinky.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I've written a handful. Back on LJ I wrote a Merlin/Twilight crossover where Edward and Merlin team up to fight evil vampire unicorns who can only be killed by virgins singing at them until they explode.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yep. Tbh I just feel sad for the people who do it. It seems like a very hollow way to do fandom.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yep. And podficced! It's always nice.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I've done a few Big Bangs and other events where I collaborated with someone and it's always one of my favourite things to do. I've also co-written some... stuff on anon, which we're not going to talk about 👀

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Can anyone pick just one? Like Hotel California, I check out but I never leave. I am still here for Mulder and Scully, Mal and Inara, Tara and Willow, Giles and Jenny, Bradley and Colin, Merlin and Gwaine, Nick and Harry and Niall, Isak and Even, Remus, Lily, Sirius and Tonks, Crowley and Aziraphale, Thomas and Richard, Ed and Stede, Farah and Saul. The ships I love never leave me and picking a favourite would make me sad.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

If I'm posting it, it will get finished. I have a couple of things languishing on my hard drive that may never see the light of day, like a Thomas in LA fic post DA2, but I can't not finish things.

16. What are your writing strengths?

A commitment to the bit? An unwavering belief there's never a bad time for banter? An unfailing devotion to poking people's bruises?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

See above.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Would attempt only in a comedy situation where getting it wrong was the point.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Firefly. The first one I posted in was HP though, rip.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Saying I'm fond of all of them would be such a cop out, wouldn't it? In truth, my favourite is usually the one I'm currently writing, so let's say Sum of the In-between Things. It's morphed so far from what I intended it to be and I have literally no idea if I can stick the landing on it, but I've genuinely had a blast writing it, and that's the point, isn't it?

Tagging: @septemberrie @myalchod and @magnolia822!

[we-pay-for-everything]

Which really loved/hyped Buffyverse characters, ships and episodes do you just not like very much, or at least like less than most fans seem to?! And remember that you really are so valued and cared for here - reading your stuff is one of the best parts of my day!

Thank you! You're so sweet :) For someone who doesn't have many followers I get a disproportional amount of asks, so, if anything, my anons clearly value me <3

Characters:

Spike (duh);

Cordelia - More so on AtS than BtVS, I think;

Buffy;

Faith - Only in seasons 3/4 of BtVS. I love her tons on AtS but was only able to connect with and enjoy her character there. I like Faith in BtVS season 7 though. I just don't understand the hype around her in BtVS season 3. I guess mostly I don't understand why people love her and Buffy's dynamic so much.

Are there more characters? Tara? I don't think she's overhyped, but I guess I like her a little less than most? There aren't many overhyped characters on AtS - quite the opposite, there are mostly underrated ones. Some fans probably think Wesley is overhyped? I think fans love Lindsey too and I never got the hype. Oh, and maybe Fred is a bit overhyped sometimes?

Ships:

Spuffy;

Fuffy;

Tillow;

Cander - I like Xanya but I know most people don't like Anya and prefer Xander with Cordy;

Spike/Angel - Hate them;

Lindsey/Angel - They're not that hyped but I think some people like them?

Jenny/Giles - Are they popular?

There aren't a lot of popular canon ships on Buffyverse. I know I'm missing ships, sorry.

Episodes:

Halloween - Absolutely hate this episode.

Passion - It's so annoying! I hate Angelus's cheesy VO and stalking of Buffy so much. The episode is so dramatic in such a cheesy way.

Bad Girls - This episode is so giffed, but it's not that memorable to me, probably because I don't care much about Faith and Buffy;

The Prom - I like the episode, but like many season 3 episodes it's not as good as people say.

Hush - It's good and super original, but it's also a bit boring to me;

This Year's Girl/Who Are You - Both are considered some of the best Buffy episodes, but I never cared for them, nor for SMG/ED's performances. Again, this is probably because I don't care about Fuffy, or Faith in the beginning;

Restless - Barely got through it once. I thought it was pretentious crap, just the kind Joss was great at;

Fool For Love - One word: Spike;

The Gift - Apart from the ending, the episode isn't really that good, I think;

Life Serial - I kind of remember this episode being hyped and seen as one of the best in season 6, but I don't remember enjoying it;

Once More With Feeling - Am I alone in barely getting through it once and hating all the songs and the actors' singing?

Conversations with Dead People;

Lies My Parents Told Me - I loathe this episode and the one above so much but I can't even remember which one's which;

Spin the Bottle - I like the episode, but it's really not as funny as advertised imo;

Destiny - I think some people like it for some reason;

Smile Time - I like it, but it's not that funny. It's just a solid episode.

Birthday? The Girl in Question? Are there overhyped Angel episodes? Maybe most early season 5 episodes? Fans seem to love this season and I don't, with the exception of the brilliant Wesley and Illyria arc, You're Welcome, Origin, Not Fade Away, and a few others.

Thanks for the ask and for the kind words! I know I've forgotten stuff, but, oh well...

[bodytoflame-ao3]

made from the stars

originally posted 06/14/21

willow/tara, an add on to ‘new moon rising’

spiritual successor to this

Read on Ao3

She takes Tara to the Bronze, like nothing’s changed. They don’t speak about the kiss. Kisses. Because now Buffy’s Faith, and Faith’s Buffy, and that spell, plus, there’s vamps, and then, the whole Jonathan thing; and the house, the frat party, and Tara pushes her away. That’s Willow’s job. Willow does the pushing. Tara’s the one that understands… this. So they don’t talk about it — but if Tara holds her hand across campus, walks just a little closer to her, brushes her fingers over her leg when they’re alone… Willow doesn’t mind. She savors those moments, in fact. She doesn’t know if they’ll ever talk about it. Maybe she’s okay with that, with this, if this is all it is. It’s starting to make sense that way.

Then Oz comes back. It feels like a crushing weight, one she doesn’t know how to handle. And Tara runs. And Buffy’s all weird about it, and Willow feels so lost. Like these two people can’t exist in her life at the same time. Or, at least, that’s what it feels like.

Tara tells her to do what makes her happy. She knows immediately what does — what she wants — and it’s still not something she can entirely grasp. Willow wants to kiss her again, longer, softer; to hold her even closer, to touch her — and she’s scared. So she hugs her, pulls her close, and Tara holds her tight as she cries; runs her fingers through short auburn locks.

They still don’t talk about it.

When she does work up the nerve to talk to Oz, it hurts, because she knows it’s final, hurts like she knows it will as long as she keeps him in her thoughts. She wants to run to Tara — she can’t. Her legs won’t take her there, not with what she has in mind. She kicks around campus, walking alone, not even caring to keep her guard up like she normally would at night on a hellmouth. Eventually, she makes her way back to the dorm. Buffy’s not there, with Giles going over research and technique, undoubtedly. It’s too empty. She sits down on her bed, cross-legged, lights a candle, and wishes there were some spell to tell her what she’s supposed to do.

All she knows is that she can’t be alone right now.

She winds up at Tara’s, she’s pretty sure, by muscle memory. It’s pretty much the only place she goes on campus besides classes — extracurriculars have gone by the wayside to research, magic, and assisting with slaying.

Willow knocks on the door before she can stop herself. It only takes her a few seconds to answer. Tara stands in front of her, looking at least a little confused. It’s dark. Willow hopes she wasn’t sleeping. She should say hi. You know, sorry I’ve completely ignored your attempts to talk about anything meaningful the past week. She doesn’t. Instead; “No candles?” she asks, looking behind her. Was she just sitting there in the dark? “Well, I brought one. It’s extra flame-y.”

She doesn’t answer. Willow steps in, shutting the door behind her and handing her the candle. Maybe best not to confess anything drastic while holding something burning. Which means— she is here to confess something, right? Deep down, she knows that. “Tara, I have to tell you—”

“No, I-I understand. You have to be with the person you l-love.”

Willow takes a deep breath. She loves Oz. She really does. Or she did. But she can’t do that again — any of it. And this is Tara. Tara, who makes her feel so strange, and warm, and alive. She can’t say no to that any longer. “I am.” Her smile feels like the first genuine one in days. It feels safe, here, in her room; no one else can see them, hear them, touch them; they can be alone with their thoughts and feelings and no one would ever know (would it really be a bad thing if they did?).

“You mean…”

Yeah, she does, holy moly, she does. “I mean.” It’s still just as scary, but now it’s there, in the open, but closed in this little space, and she knows, and they’re alone, and safe, and all of her friends are safe — no immediately looming apocalypse (that they know of). “Okay?” It’s for confirmation, yes, but it feels more like she’s asking herself than asking Tara.

“Oh. Yes.” And Willow’s thinking the same thing.

“I feel horrible about everything I put you through.” Not just with Oz, but even getting her into the whole scooby gang mess in the first place. Most of all, for being so damn indecisive. Willow’s done with that. She’s making a choice, now. “A-and I’m gonna make it up to you. Starting right now.”

The grin that comes to Tara’s face practically melts her. “Right now?”

Her smile is contagious. Willow just nods, and watches as Tara blows out the candle. The light of the moon, still so full, lights up her face. It’s bright, and she can see enough around her; can see Tara. It’s a soft blue light, completely different to the amber flame of a candle. Suddenly she understands— it’s not dark, it’s beautiful. And Tara’s really beautiful; her hair almost icy in the moonlight. She reaches out to set the candle down on her dresser, leaning closer to Willow; her hair brushes her cheeks, and she can smell the lavender of her shampoo.

Tara takes a single step closer to her; reaches out, and pushes Willow’s hair behind her ear, her other hand taking hold of hers. “Will…”

When Tara touches her, it’s like she’s frozen again. Willow wants to reach for her, kiss her — this is the same place she kissed her last. She knows Tara’s waiting for her to make the first move. All she can do is speak; tell her the feelings she’s bottled up for weeks. “I was so scared,” she admits, voice nearly silent.

“Scared?” Tara’s hand drifts to her jaw, and she can feel her thumb run across her cheek, just like it did when she wiped her tears.

“I wanted to talk about… about the other night but… I got scared.” Willow’s pretty sure she spent the next few hours in a near-catatonic state, her feet carrying her without her mind telling them to go; only able to think about one thing.

“Why?” She asks, squeezing her hand.

Because she spent the next few days alternating between looking up ‘liking girls’ and deleting her search history. “Because I liked it?” Willow says, pursing her lips in a half-question. “I like you. And I was scared about what that meant. I think… I still am. N-not of you… of messing this up. I don’t…” Why is it so hard to say this? To even put it into words? “No one’s ever made me feel like this before. Not—” Not even Oz. She can’t say that. “Not ever.”

“Willow,” she says, gently. “It’s okay.” Tara smiles, her brows turning in with sympathy. “C-can I kiss you now?”

Willow nods.

She does. Tara threads her fingers through Willow’s hair, and kisses her; it’s so gentle, and sweet, and warm. And she comes closer, letting her hand leave her hair; finding her way around Willow’s back and pulling her in. It feels like she can barely breathe, even just after a few seconds — and she doesn’t want to, but she has to pull herself away from Tara to breathe, just a little. She takes in a quiet gasp of air, and breathes against her lips, “You’re so soft.” It’s the first thing she notices. Every kiss she’s ever had has been chapped lips; stubble and aftershave. Nothing is the same; it might never be again.

“Girls are soft,” she replies, like it’s obvious.

Willow can feel her smile. She lets her instincts take over; to do the kinds of things she’s wanted to do for so long now. Her hand reaches Tara’s waist, finding only gentle curves. Girls are soft. She kisses Tara again, her surprised and satisfied hum buzzing against her lips. Willow laughs, “That tickles.”

Tara chuckles, and shushes her, chiding, “Be quiet and let me kiss you.”

Willow isn’t about to argue with that. The way Tara kisses her almost doesn’t make sense; she’s so delicate, so kind. Gentle, yes, but also confident, and it feels like an entirely new side of her. She’s passion, and heart, and Willow doesn’t know where to start with it. Her touch feels like searing heat, sending sparks through her, and she’s left wondering if it’s some sort of byproduct of their magic that’s doing it. But honestly, why should she be thinking, when she could be pouring her entire self into kissing Tara — so she does. She lets herself melt into her embrace, and listen to every little physical signal her body’s giving. There’s a lot, almost too much to take in every single one.

Tara’s fingers curl up against her arm; Willow can feel the dull edges of her nails against her skin, overpowering every other neuron firing in her brain. “Whoa,” slips out involuntarily.

“Bad whoa or good whoa?”

“Just never…” She’s pretty sure something short-circuited in her head… kind of whoa. “Good.” Her legs are weak — is this what people mean when they talk about love? “Definitely good.”

Tara pulls Willow with her as she steps back with a kiss; Willow can feel her smile against her own lips. “I’ve wanted to kiss you… s-since that first spell, you know?”

“If you keep talking like this, I’m going to collapse into a puddle,” Willow laughs, only half joking.

“But I like you all solid, and… and Willow-y, not all Wicked Witch of the West!”

Willow playfully shoves her back, into a mess of blankets. “You’re melting,” she laughs.

“You’re a tease!” Tara can’t help laughing, even as she feigns shock. She exudes confidence now; if Willow had known this is all it took to draw it from her, she might have done it long ago.

Willow follows her down a second later, joining in the laughing fit. They’ve been here before, face to face, talking nearly all night. It’s not weird, she tells herself, They sit here all the time. Tara’s hand would brush her leg, and her only solace was knowing the darkness would cover her flushed face. Now, she does it deliberately; traces lines up Willow’s arm with measured precision. Knowing what she knows now, she wonders if Tara was testing the waters.

She brushes a lock of hair out of Willow’s face, smiling.

The intimacy of her touch pulls Willow back to reality; she sits up on the edge of the bed. “I should…” She should go. Back to her own room; call up Buffy and make sure there’s no pressing supernatural issues. Right?

“Stay. Talk with me.”

Willow can’t say no. She wouldn’t ever want to. So this time, she stays. “What happens now?” She asks, surprising herself. How do they do this? Willow doesn’t ever want to stop holding her hand, that’s for sure. She wants to kiss her and not care who sees.

Tara asks her own question in response: “What do you mean?”

“What are we?” What does this make her? She still has no clue how any of this makes her feel — except Tara — sunshine, and warmth, and peace.

“I… I don’t know,” Tara says. It can’t be easy for her either. “What do you want?”

Willow’s trying honest now, because it’s gotten her this far: “I kinda just want to keep kissing you.”

Tara’s lips part; for a second Willow thinks she’s going to pull her in again, but she exhales a sigh. “I meant what I said, Willow. I d-don’t want to be a secret. I…”

“Buffy knows,” she admits, in an instant, “N-not everything, but she knows. About you. I mean, she seemed a little weirded out but… it’s… a lot… and she’s known me for years, and I’ve never—”

Tara smile returns, and she gives her a slight chuckle. “She’s probably just freaked that you had a crush on her or something.”

Willow blushes, profusely. “I-I think I might’ve.” It’s the first time she’s admitted it to herself, either. Back in high school, she’d never wanted to be friends with anyone as badly as she wanted to be friends with Buffy.

“I thought as much,” Tara says, softly, still smiling.

“How do you do that?” Willow asks, a slight frown creeping on to her face. She takes Tara’s hand, still so new, but somehow familiar.

“Do what?”

“Know me better than I do.”

Tara doesn’t give her an answer. Instead, she simply says, “You see right through me,” cupping Willow’s cheek and pulling her in for another languid kiss.

Willow can’t pull away; perfectly content to drown in soft, pink lips and blonde locks.

Even more when Tara kisses her like everything else she does, delicate, almost restrained; when she breaks the kiss, it’s with hesitation. Still, she just says, gentle as always, “Your hand’s trembling.”

It is. If she weren’t so focused on Tara’s lips on her own; the way her eyes pierce through her heart, Willow’s sure she’d be shaking. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Yes,” Tara replies, her voice dropping low, “You do.”

All Willow knows is that she likes this girl more than she thought was humanly possible, and she wants to shout it from the rooftops.

“If you need time…” Tara echoes, and Willow knows she means it just as much as the first time.

She shakes her head. They aren’t the kind of friends that keep secrets. They can’t be. “I can tell them anything.” That, she’s always known to be true.

“Do you… think they already know?” Tara asks, cautious.

No. There’s absolutely no way any of them know. Except Buffy. Because she told her. And Willow didn’t even know until maybe a few weeks ago — and that’s being generous. “Anya and Xander? No chance. Why?”

“Well… Faith seemed… I think she picked up on something.”

…Faith? That’s… not what she was expecting. “Buffy-Faith or Faith-Buffy?” Willow asks, eyebrows raised.

“Um,” Tara laughs, offering a place instead, “At the Bronze.”

They were just… sitting there… and Willow had to make a cognizant attempt not to let her hand drift to Tara’s. “But I didn’t— what did she…?”

“When you left, she… said something about you not ‘driving stick’ anymore…?”

Okay, gross… and… entirely expected. Willow takes in a sharp breath, weighing her options before letting out a simple, “Oh.”

“A-and now that I said it out loud, it’s even worse than I thought it was,” she blushes, laughing.

“Ugh,” Willow scrunches her face, “She gives me the creeps. You don’t think she was… hitting on you?” She whispers it, even though they’re alone, and Tara’s mere feet from her. Somehow the idea of that makes Willow more uncomfortable than Faith’s actual comment.

Tara purses her lips, taking a second to choose her words carefully before answering the question. “I… um, I think she’s got her eyes on another blonde?”

“Riley? I wouldn’t doubt it, Buffy said—”

Tara cuts her off. “No, she’s… definitely got a thing for Buffy.”

No… no she doesn’t. “Um, what?”

“When I could feel her aura… there was a lot of energy… directed inward?” Tara explains, “Which I thought was weird until I noticed the fractures in it, and pieced it all together. I-it didn’t seem relevant so I—”

If Tara had mentioned it, it would have made her head spin far more than the whole body-snatching concept.

“So w-when Faith kissed her after trying to steal her vampire boyfriend and turn him evil and, well, the whole cat-and-mouse almost killing each other game… that was a… a gay thing?” Okay. She’s kind of seeing it now — Faith imbues everything she does with a sort of seduction, but what she’s done to Buffy? It leans a little bit more on the whole femme-fatale fatal-attraction thing she’s got going on.

Tara raises her eyebrows.

Right. She doesn’t know about any of that. “Oh, um. Long story.”

“She kissed her?”

“On the forehead, yeah, but I… thought it was a… like, a show of dominance. She’s all… crazy… sex-bomb… you know?”

Tara purses her lips, laughing a little, “A-are you sure you aren’t into Faith?”

“Ew, no! And, look, Buffy’s…” So straight. Aggressively. Loving the men. But… She lowers her voice. “You don’t think they’ve…” She trails off, letting Tara make her own assumptions.

“No, Buffy— your Buffy is… I doubt she ever noticed it.”

“I didn’t notice it, and I’m…” Okay, she doesn’t know exactly what… this makes her, but she’s pretty sure it means she should’ve picked up on it.

“Honey,” The name drips from her lips, as sweet as the word itself, “I’m not surprised. I’ve been trying to get you to see me for weeks.”

Willow swears her heart does a flip. She’d… she’d do a lot to hear Tara say that again. “A-are you gonna call me that all the time? Because… I don’t know if I can handle that.”

Tara smiles. “O-only if you want.”

“I… want.”

She takes Willow’s hand, “You don’t know how I’ve felt since I met you. I thought you’d… that I would scare you away if you knew. I just… I felt the connection.”

“I know.” She knows exactly what Tara means. It’s practically all she’s thought about for weeks.

“Even when you first showed up at Wicca group, I knew.” Something special. “A-and then you saved my life, and we did real magic, and you were the first person I’ve done spells with s-since…” Her mom. She taught her. “You do your magic so… effortlessly. A-and I wanted to know everything about it, but all I could really think was, wow, she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“I swear, you gotta give me a warning before you say stuff like that,” Willow says, her head nearly spinning. “Like I said… puddle.”

Tara just chuckles, and pulls her closer, hands lingering on her waist. Nothing’s ever felt so right. “It’s okay.”

Finally, she asks, “What does it mean that I… that I like you?” She’s done her thinking. It still doesn’t add up, one way or the other.

“That’s not up to me.”

“I just want someone to tell me what it means. What that makes… Why can’t it be easy?” Because nothing here’s ever easy, is it?

“You don’t have to know right now, Will. You know that… you like me. I like you. That’s a start.”

“So… am I your girlfriend?”

“If you want.”

It sounds like the greatest thing Willow’s ever heard. “Yeah… I think I do.”

“Good,” she smiles even wider, “Me too.”

“Does that mean I can kiss you again?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

[prose-for-hire]

Penny for your thoughts

Pairing: Wesley x reader

Request: Not requested. I just needed to write something from my own brain !! Inspired very loosely by season 3′s ‘earshot’. Reader can read minds and struggles with this. One day, they meet Wesley and thoughts threaten to spill. [Italics = thoughts]

Warning: Very mild violence mentioned. Hostage situation.

When you first meet people, you always knew exactly what your first impression on them is. Sometimes it was good, others not so good. But it was never as disastrous as the time you met Wesley. He hadn’t been in a good mood that day anyway, he was late and his research had led to nothing. Even worse, he would have to face Giles and admit that he had been wrong about which codex the relevant information would be in.

It was the early morning and you had arrived at your new job. You had needed something normal, you weren’t to know that living in Sunnydale would be the furthest thing from normality. You were the new school administrator, hired only because you knew the exact answers that Snyder was looking for when he interviewed you.

There was something about you that people couldn’t tell just by looking at you. You were telepathic. You could read people’s minds. That’s how you knew exactly how much he disliked your demeanour. Some people were jealous of your abilities, but often you decided it wasn’t worth the constant headache (both metaphorical and unfortunately literal too).

Whenever anybody found out, they often held you at arm’s length. People liked to keep their thoughts in their own heads, apparently. Not in yours. You had been practicing ways to ease the headaches and thus quietening the voices down inside your mind. These foreign thoughts bubbled up when you focused on someone you were near, but you could block out a lot of it now. Thanks to a lot of practice.

This morning, Wesley had been trying to walk straight past the front office and into the library without being stopped – but you had got in the way of that. You stepped in front of him and he stared at you as if he was trying to burn holes into you.

“Yes?” he asked curtly, looking past you now towards the corridor he should be walking down.

“Hi, I’m Y/n, the new administrator. Snyder’s asked me to put this sign-in sheet in place for, uh, late staff…”

“This is ridiculous! I am barely a minute past the hour-”

“I know, but you still need to sign…” You said, your voice wavering as he thought about how he wished that you would explode into dust like a vampire and leave him alone. He scribbled something illegible onto your sheet and stormed away, cursing you both in his head and under his breath as he walked.

You sighed. You learned two things on your first day at Sunnydale High, one being that doing your job and contractually having to side with Snyder wasn’t going to win you any friends. And a second being that vampires, demons and evil existed. Which, I mean, you guessed it must be true if you had the abilities that you did but it was finally confirmed to you.

The rest of the term went on like this, with you only ever encountering Wesley the same way and him getting decidedly more annoyed with you every time. You, on the other hand, became more fond of him. You learnt more about him every morning through his thoughts and found him to be a kind and genuine man who was just desperate to prove himself to the people he now worked with.

After getting a cold reception ever since you met him, one morning was a little bit different. Not only because Wesley was early but he made a point by saying good morning very loudly to you to which made you smile widely at him. You couldn’t help it, his thoughts had made you really like him. He faltered only slightly and you didn’t quite catch what he thought as he brusquely walked past.

Much like in verbal conversation, you didn’t always hear everything clearly if you weren’t focusing enough. Moreover, you often tried to make a point of letting people have as much privacy as you could. You could hear an underlying buzzing of everyone’s thoughts but if you focused and isolated on a person you could hear it clearly. But everything was always so busy it could be hard to catch things clearly sometimes.

In some instances, however, some specific thoughts called out to you with an almost painful clarity. This happened later that same day. You had walked into the library to explain to Giles that there had been some complaints from students that they had been turned away from the library for no good reason when it hit you.

I will eat them. I will kill them all…

You must have reacted very obviously as Giles with sincerity asked if you were okay. You rushed out your words, knowing that this was a lot to suddenly admit – but you knew these were the right people to tell.

“There’s something in here, the school I mean. Something looking to eat people. You need to, uh, do some research. The Sumerian will have to wait, this is happening. And soon-”

“H-how did you know about-” Giles began, he had just thought about beginning to read the Sumerian text he needed.

“Uh, yeah, so, I can read thoughts and I know I can trust you because you save the world often between school opening hours and I never once thought about telling Snyder so please just trust me?”

“I knew it!”

“You have never thought that before, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce”

I may have done… eventually.

“But you didn’t” You smiled softly and he looked at the ground. Giles caught this look between you and your seemingly one-sided conversation. You found his look endearing and found yourself thinking this for a moment too long before snapping yourself out of it.

Nobody tried to test you or question you after they chose to trust you. They appeared to be able to tell how genuine and how much you appeared to want to help. So, they listened to what you said and began to do more patrolling. Some even questioned other students in case they had seen anything suspicious (which, they had it just didn’t happen to be the kind of suspicious you were all currently researching).

Buffy and her group of friends were guarded around you with their thoughts which you were used to, people really didn’t like their thoughts being shared. But at the same time, you could hear that they thought you were pretty cool which was really a big compliment.

You were all searching for this demon on the school campus, it had been a week by this point and you and Wesley kept being paired up by Giles. Whether that look you gave him had inspired him to be a match-maker or he was truly oblivious and just wanted the two of you far away from him you didn’t know. Either way, you had quickly been adopted into the little team.

Wesley was bashful and often began tripping over his words to talk about anything that you appeared to take an interest in. He began to warm to you once he realised you had just been trying to keep your job and not trying to ruin his career as a watcher (and fake librarian).

You kept listening intently as you and him did your usual loop around the school, having to hope everyone in the school could forgive you listening to every single thought in search of the person you had heard that day. You were sieving through every thought anyone had ever had and it was getting tiring. Exhausting, even. Your head was so full it began to spin almost violently. A merry-go-round you could never get off, it kept going faster the more you listened.

While you were listening one day in the library, Wesley, who you had been distracted by and had been watching from the other side of the room had moved to stand beside you. You hadn’t noticed him, much less that he was speaking until your legs gave way from under you. You started to collapse to the ground until his arms reached to catch you. It was instinct, he gripped you tight preventing you from falling. He allowed you to shift some of your weight onto him as you walked towards a chair. He turned away to make you a cup of your beverage of choice to relax you.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Wesley said softly as he sat beside you. His demeanour so different from how he had been even a week ago. You had become fond of him much before this, but he was just beginning to warm to you. To understand you had only been doing your job, helping his when you could. You had been leaving notes of thoughts you had overheard on Wesley and Giles’ desks ever since you realised what was going on with the school and the Hellmouth.

“If I got a penny for every thought I heard… I would be rich” You smiled, but you appeared washed out and weakened as you tried to raise yourself from your seat. This was a mistake, you began to go dizzy and tried to still yourself, raising your hand to your head. Without you noticing (or, admittedly himself until it happened) his hand rested on the back of yours. Your stomach flipped, an elation rising inside at the mere whisper of his touch.

He leaned in closer, his face now level with yours. The proximity sent shivers through your body. You closed your eyes, focusing only on his touch. No thoughts, not even your own should interrupt this. It was promise. Of care, of some deep down need to comfort you. No matter if his intentions were romantic or otherwise, just knowing he cared meant something. It was enough to keep you happy. You wanted to stay in this moment, where his touch was yours.

But, of course this was Sunnydale. Wesley had appeared to help you clear your mind. Enough to hear something.

Kill… Eat… Kill… Eat again

“No!” You shouted, a completely different style of shivers now went up your spine. You were horrified at the images you were starting to see. The thoughts were getting stronger which meant… they were getting closer. If only you could make out exactly where.

“Y/n, I apologise. I should n-not have thought to-”

“Wesley, no, that was- well, it-” You paused and sighed. This was a conversation for another time. You just wanted to tell him how much the tenderness of his touch meant, but it really wasn’t the right moment, “Demon. I heard the demon! I think it’s in the basement” You rushed out, gesturing for him to follow you.

How is that possible? We checked at least a dozen times.

It could have been hiding or somewhere else – it could have even been invisible. I just know where it is now.

You nodded, thinking this was the only reply you had given him. He blinked not once but twice. He was surprised to say the least. You had communicated to him without speaking. You were fascinating to him. He looked at your lips before scanning the rest of your face as he thought how much he wished that he could…

No. Better not think on this now. His mind may run wild and the last thing he needed was you catching this particular train of thought.

You stepped gingerly into the dark basement, the light was very dim but you were both able to just about get your bearings. You could hear the thoughts again, louder and louder as you approached. All this guy seemed to do was think about killing and eating.

Talk about one track mind.

Wesley made a noise that sounded like a laugh. You didn’t realise that it was in reaction to your own thoughts. But any remnants of a smile was wiped off his face when he saw the scene before him.

There was a pit of what appeared to be lava with a green coloured demon hanging precariously above it. In the corner of the room, a man that looked human apart from the sizeable canines and horns protruding from his face.

Without thinking and notedly before the demon in the corner of the room had spotted you, you started to pull at the rope that the green demon was suspended from. Wesley, although the frown on his face read as a reluctance to assist what would usually be seen as the enemy, came and helped you anyway. Especially when he saw how affected you clearly were by what you could hear of the demon’s thoughts.

You managed to untie the rope that was fixed in place to keep the demon suspended just as the man who intended to dine on them began to run at you. This made your hand slip, letting go of the rope and making the green-hued figure drop into the pit with a scream.

As Wesley moved to protect you, using the skills he could remember through the fog of fear he was experiencing you ran to the pit. You gasped, pleased to see the four hands were clinging onto the crumbling side of the pit. The demon hadn’t fallen into the pit yet – you still had time to help.

“Take my hand!” You shouted over the noise, opening your palm for the green demon to take. You could hear the demon’s desperation, their thoughts that it was the end. You couldn’t bear it. You had to help them.

“Go” Wesley shouted to the green demon as you both helped them up from the pit. The demon whose thoughts brought you into the basement became even more mad at this and began to attack you fiercely.

You managed to keep the demon at bay until reinforcements arrived. Buffy and Angel soon ran into the basement and held off the demon from snapping off your limb and eating it like a chicken leg. You did all you could to assist with the fight and shouted out the demon’s intended movements out to give the others the upper hand.

Wesley walked you home that evening, after Willow spoke an incantation to close up the lava pit and make it very hard to enter the basement (the last thing you needed was anyone else setting up (evil) shop down there).

You continued to be a big part of the group as the months went on. You would spent a lot of your time researching and learning all you could from demons and the students to help Buffy fight. You didn’t have the heart to tell the others that they weren’t fooling anyone – most people had at least some idea there was something special about her and her super-strength.

As you did your bit to save the world, your mind was never far from him. You had grown close, savouring every detail you learned about him. You knew that through the sometimes clumsy and ‘proper’ exterior, there was a kind and well-intentioned heart. He wished to open up to you, but his upbringing made it hard for him to grow out of the need to hide his emotions and feelings.

He caught your eye during a meeting and you couldn’t stop your own thoughts from flowing.

I love him. Wow, is this what being in love feels like? I can’t stop thinking about him…

He smiled wider as you thought this which made you want to hold him into you even more. Everything about him, from his need to stick to what he had been taught to the letter to the deeply sensitive and caring parts of him he revealed with out even meaning to and everything in between.

He was soon the reason you arrived at work with a smile on your face. Just to catch a glimpse of him or hear something from him. It meant everything.

Graduation day came and so did the battle against the Mayor and his ascension. As rubble, dust and demons lay defeated around you, he made his way straight towards you. Ensuring that you were safe. That you hadn’t been hurt.

“I think I’m out of a job” You joked, still catching your breath after the fight. But this was a futile task as Wesley rested his hand against the base of your skull and pulled you towards him, crashing your lips with his. 

His lips glided over yours, a subtle urgency igniting your continued passion for him. You grasped at the shirt that had been ripped in the fight, feeling the warmth of his skin as you kissed him with all the feeling within. He pulled you nearer still, no matter how close you were to him would never be enough.

This fight had put everything into perspective. He needed you, he loved you just as he was sure you felt the same. He couldn’t hide away from revealing the deepest parts of himself from you anymore. He had only kept it because he was sure that his mind was deceiving him. You couldn’t possibly feel those things for him. Those things he had dreamed and hoped and wished that you would say. It had appeared too good to be true.

“My entire life I have found myself having to prove myself, to work to be accepted. When I met you, without realising until much after, my heart started beating again. I began to live because you made me feel like I matter. That I could make a real difference.”

“Wes, you make a difference everyday…”

“Well, before I met you it appears that I had been living my life wrong”

What does this mean?

“It means that, uh, I was miserable. You showed me a joy to life that I had not even considered” He replied before continuing to explain how much you meant to him, “You do the right thing, the decent thing, no matter if it is written in the watchers handbook or otherwise. To assist even a demon in their hour of need, I am in awe of you. Truly”

You smiled, leaning in to press your lips against his again, ready to tell him exactly how you felt about him. You couldn’t hide this feeling you held, your soft adoration enveloping him in the best way.

As you leaned against him, you realised something – he had just answered your thought. He knew everything, had heard every adoring thought fact that he had been too polite to reveal to you until recently. He had been able to read your thoughts.

You had been so wrapped up in your feelings in a way you never had before, your feelings for him were just so strong, that you had managed to broadcast your own consciousness into his mind. Only such strong and true feelings could do this, you were sure of it. He confirmed this to you later when he revealed he had done extensive research on it.

The soft aroma of love now surrounded you, it smelled of him. Cologne and old books. This smell surrounded the area, which thankfully masked the smell of dead demon in the air. You walked away from the battle, victorious, now in more ways than one. You felt as if you were on top of the world, invincible by his side.

With his confession and your minds entwined with the deepest sentiments of love, you didn’t think twice when he asked you to leave Sunnydale with him. You would embark on a trip spanning several states, the two of you fighting evil and helping others. You grew closer, adoring every inch of the other and finally made your home, at least for a while, in Los Angeles.

[dontwarnthetadpoles]

Best Buffy & Willow platonic and romantic moments: Season 1

I changed the order of the words in the title because the scenes i’m commenting are more platonic than romantic. The romance is mostly an effect of my interpretation and writing at this point (it will be true until season 4). I also removed the end “ love at first sight” for the same reason. It seems more clear to present it this way.   

Never Kill a Boy on the First Date (Episode 5). 

Finally an episode with ambitious writing and a decent budget!  The stakes are upped with a new prophecy, a new enemy raising, and Buffy’s personal life starting to collide with her professional calling as a slayer.    

Let’s focus on Buffy and Willow:

Remember this during Welcome to the Hellmouth?: 

Willow: Oh, I could totally help you out! Uh, if you have sixth period free we could meet in the library? 

Buffy: Or not. Or we could meet someplace quieter. Louder. Uh, that place just kinda gives me the wiggins. 

Willow: Oh, it has that effect on most kids. I love it, though, it's a great collection, and the new librarian is really cool. 

Buffy: He's new? 

Willow: Yeah, he just started. He was a curator at some British museum, or The British Museum, I'm not sure. But he knows everything, and he brought all these historical volumes and biographies and am I the single dullest person alive?

That’s Willow in a nutshell: so very bookwormy and nerdy. I can totally relate.

Someone else who relates to Willow’s passion for books in this episode is Owen, Buffy’s new love interest. He’s obviously a book lover: he goes everywhere with his copy of Emily Dickinson’s complete poems that he enjoys so much that he doesn’t shy from calling it his security blanket in front of the girl he likes. Even Xander who tried to distract Buffy from her gloomy thoughts after she missed a date with Owen, picked up on this detail and said that a lot of guy can read and that he himself can read. 

To draw from this the conclusion that Buffy has a thing for avid readers and serious students and that sweet Willow fits the pattern, is something i won’t shy neither from doing. 

It’s  also worth to note that even Angel’s personality has been retconned later in the show to fit the type: he offered her a poetry book and was seen reading a french philosopher.   

More parallels that make me smile: seems that Buffy has also a seduction technique to approach her crushes. Like waiting for the lunchtime, to see if they are alone and to offer to keep them company. Owen Is just like Willow more than happy to share any time of the day with her.

Meanwhile Willow is working very hard to win the award of the best friend of the year: she supports dutifully Buffy’s amazement at everything that Owen does or says, which (short off topic) made me reconsider the coldness/neutrality of her reaction toward Angel in the last episode. 

Contrary to Xander, she wasn’t much impressed by his looks and seemed more amused by Xander’s jealousy than curious to know more about the mysterious stranger. An important detail for me because i’m a little obsessed with the Angel/Buffy/Willow triangle - it exists mostly in the subtext and my obsession comes from littles clues i see in the script and directing - though the writers stayed very subtle about it.  

How cute did Buffy and Willow look when they were falsely arguing about Owen’s invitation to the Bronze being or not a big deal? On a scale of 1 to 10, they were at level 20. It’s almost a superpower.

 I love especially this dialogue with Giles just after::

Buffy/Willow: What are you talking about?

Giles:What are you talking about?

Buffy/Willow: Boys.

Giles: I'm talking about trouble.     

Boys are indeed trouble but girl friends are safe and loyal, and that’s why Buffy relies on Willow to help her pick an outfit for her 1st date with Owen.

Which leads us to their best scene of the episode: in Buffy’s bedroom. 

This first Willow and Xander visit to Buffy’s house and how they felt immediately at home in her bedroom is the kind of scene written to make you fall in love with the show if it wasn’t already the case. It’s such a pure, wholesome and true moment.

It worked so well on  the young me who was discovering the show and for who invitations and sleepovers were something so hard to be allowed to do because of family rules. In the show, it means promise of intimacy, trust and shared secrets, and that Buffy’s home will be a place to feel protected for my favourite characters. 

And the show didn’t disappoint: the Summer’s house will become for all of them an integral a part of their life. Willow will live literally in it for two years. It was almost a character, just like the town before its destruction.

However beyond the nostalgia, the scene gives me also mixed feelings: 

I loved without hesitation everything about Buffy and Willow having already reviewed and picked her outfit, hair and make up way before Xander arrived. Sharing fashion tips (and shopping too) with your girl friends as a teenager is one of the most satisfying experience. It intensifies the relationship like nothing else. So they clearly have reached a new friendship level here. (Though i wasn’t aware that they were so close that they could change clothes in front of each other. Like how else did Buffy put on her golden/yellow dress!?).

There is in those moments a sense of normality that both Willow and Buffy are craving for different reasons (Willow because her solitude keeps her away from it, Buffy because of her mission). 

But i’m really against her decision to use Xander to test on him what Owen would think of her looks. 

The less depressing interpretation is that Buffy might be trying to show to Willow that she got her message from the last episode (Teacher’s Pet) about her feelings for Xander: 

Willow: No, no, no! See? Xander's, I like his head! I-it's where you find his eyes, and his hair, and his adorable smile...

But Xander is doing the same thing to Willow, and the fact that Buffy who has so much influence on them, joins them in this attitude validates this way of thinking that people can be used if they have feelings for you.

It will complicate their relationship for the rest of the show to the point that 7  seasons later Willow will still think that people won’t stay with her or love her if they don’t need her.   

But back to this episode to conclude: sadly after this point our heroines are taken away from each other and dragged to the land of love triangles, located at the Bronze. While Buffy doesn’t know anymore to who give her attention between Owen and Angel, Willow fakes a date with Xander and meets Angel officially. 

The episode ends with Buffy making a choice to not keep Owen in her life  because of the danger, while she never had the same doubts about Willow (and Xander)...

And though she has very reasonable reasons to not want Owen around, who can blame her to dismiss him and keep Willow close when they both look like this together (their matching colors are making me melt)?

[girl4music]

BUFFY REWATCH - S05E13 - Blood Ties

XANDER: “What about this... Key thing-y Glory's looking for?”

*Buffy and Giles both standing, sipping tea, exchanging a look*

TARA (voice over): “Yeah, I mean, shouldn't we be trying to find it before she does?”

BUFFY: “I don't think that's what we should be worrying about right now.”

*Giles sits*

WILLOW: “They've got a point. Whatever Glory's planning on opening with the Key, I'm guessing it won't be filled with candy and flowers.”

XANDER: “So where should we start looking? Do we know where it used to be kept? Who saw it last?”

BUFFY: “We did. Giles and me. We, we know where it is.”

XANDER: “You what?” 

WILLOW: “You know, and you didn't tell us?” 

GILES: “There were... reasons.” 

BUFFY: “Look, i-if Glory knew that you guys knew where it was, I... 

*Sits*

I-I just didn't wanna put you in that kind of danger.”

XANDER: 

*Annoyed* 

“As opposed to the other kind we're always in?” 

WILLOW: “You should have said something.” 

BUFFY: “Will, there-

*Pauses* 

You're right. 

*To Giles* 

It's time.”

GILES: “Are you sure?” 

BUFFY: “If they're gonna be risking their lives, they deserve to know.”

XANDER: “Know what?” 

*Buffy looks at her friends. They look at her*

BUFFY: “There's something that you need to know... about Dawn.”

For this episode recap of ‘Blood Ties’, we’re going back to the theme of withholding information that we had in Season 4 with Willow withholding her romantic/sexual relationship with Tara from Buffy and the Gang, and Buffy withholding information of Riley being an Initiative Commando from Giles. But this time the reason to withhold information is much more serious as this is about Dawn’s true nature as the Key. Therefore, it would be information that would put the Scoobies in danger if they knew about her being it. Buffy only tells Giles this information as soon she finds out for herself, and they decide together that it’s for the best that no one else knows, lest they be targeted by Glory - who is looking for the Key to open a portal to get back to her Hell dimension.

I wanted to address this withholding of information from the other Scoobies because “it’s too dangerous” to know it because it’s a common occurrence that Buffy uses the “it’s too dangerous” excuse when it comes to Willow and Xander. Knowing they’re willing volunteers in aiding her in the Slayage, she often worries about their safety when she’s really got a challenge on her hands. And I would say Glory is the biggest challenge she’s faced so far. As a Hell God, Glory is the strongest Big Bad Buffy has come across yet. She’s even stronger than Adam - so she probably thinks that the enjoining spell (where she, Willow, Xander and Giles combined their essences to defeat Adam when he was just too strong for Buffy to take on alone in the Season 4 climax) wouldn’t be helpful this time. So she and Giles figured that keeping them out-of-the-loop on the Key was the best thing to do to both keep Willow/Xander/Scooby Gang safe and protect Dawn.

But see... the thing is, is they’re not going to take ‘no’ for an answer. Willow and Xander specifically (and Giles, to some degree, with officially being her assigned, and recently reinstated, Watcher) will always risk their lives not just because they’re the Slayer’s best friends - (and Watcher/Father figure) - but also because they’ve chosen their fate a long time ago. They were aware of the dangers and the risks and the consequences from pretty much the start of Buffy’s Slayer journey, and they chose to be willing participants in helping Buffy anyway. So now it doesn’t matter whether Buffy is around to fight evil as they’re going to be doing it anyway... because they’ve CHOSEN to do it. And that’s a very important word in the context of this subject because Buffy had no choice.

I bring up Willow’s conversation with Buffy in the episode ‘Choices’ in telling her where she’ll be going to college after graduating from Sunnydale High School:

Buffy: “I'm never getting out of here. I kept thinking if I stopped the Mayor or... but I was kidding myself. I mean, there is always going to be something. I'm a Sunnydale girl,... no other choice.”

Willow: “Must be tough. I mean, here I am... I can do anything I want. I can go to any college in the country. Four or five in Europe if I want.”

Buffy: “Please tell me you're going somewhere with this?”

Willow: “No. 

*Hands Buffy a letter*

I'm not going anywhere.”

Buffy: 

*Reads the letter* 

“UC Sunnydale?” 

Willow: “I will be matriculating with Class of 2003.”

Buffy: “Are you serious?”

Willow: “Say,... isn't that where you're going?” 

*Buffy hugs her and they tumble onto the ground*

Buffy: “I can't believe it! Are you serious?! Ah, wait, what am I saying? You can't.” 

Willow: “What do you mean, ‘I can't?’” 

Buffy: “I won't let you.”

Willow: “Of the two people here, which is the boss of me?”

Buffy: “There are better schools.”

Willow: “Sunnydale's not bad. And I can design my own curriculum.”

Buffy: “Okay, well, there are safer schools. There are safer prisons. I can't let you stay because of me.” 

Willow: "Actually, this isn't about you. Although I'm fond, don't get me wrong, of you. The other night, you know, being captured and all, facing off with Faith. Things just, kind of, got clear. I mean, you've been fighting evil here for three years, and I've helped some, and now we're supposed to decide what we want to do with our lives. And I just realized that that's what I want to do. Fight evil, help people. I mean, I think it's worth doing. And I don't think you do it because you have to. It's a good fight, Buffy, and I want in.”

Buffy: “I kind of love you.” 

Willow: “And, besides, I have a shot at being a bad ass Wiccan, and what better place to learn?”

It’s not about Buffy. It’s about fighting the good fight. Fighting against evil. Big Bad evil, the likes of Glory, especially. Maybe it makes some sense to play the whole “it’s too dangerous” card with Xander since he doesn’t have any physical/practical and/or mystical/magical powers... but it doesn’t make sense to play it with Willow. Willow now knows who she is and what she wants. Even if she doesn’t always believe in herself, she’s at least self-aware enough to know what it is that makes her tick. She wants to feel the heroicness of Buffy in helping the innocent for herself. Willow wants the power... and now she’s got the power... there is no reason why she shouldn’t be allowed to know information that would put her in danger or make her a target when she clearly shows, and does later prove when Glory targets Tara, that she’s the only one strong and powerful enough to hurt her and protect everyone, including Dawn, from Glory.

“The Slayer thing really isn't about the violence. It's about the power.”

It ultimately comes down to Buffy thinking she’s burdening her friends with having to take on the responsibility of Slayage. But she’s all wrong. Her friends - especially Willow - have CHOSEN this life. And it’s literally Giles’ job so... get a clue, Slayer. You’re better off when you have help. Your ties to the world do not weaken you. They make you stronger. There is always danger, there is always risk, there is always consequences. But someone’s CHOICE is all that matters. Just because YOU didn’t get a choice in the matter doesn’t mean you can “relieve” the Scoobies from theirs in the name of “it’s too dangerous" because it is also too dangerous for you to be without them too, Buffy.

[finalgirlbuffysummers]

okay here it is. The rest is below the cut.

You would think that living on a Hellmouth made the nightmares worse. That every night would be screaming torment, but really, the hollow earth below never really prowled the dreams of its lesser citizens. Sure, the vampires and their teeth made appearances, dead classmates, the prickling curent of the wind, but waking up and knowing your neighbor heard the same bump in the night, knowing you survived to see the sun: that’s your bitter reward. Your comfort. It’s normal here, perched on the lip above the sharpest tooth.  

No, the nightmares get worse ten years down the line. You’re out of highschool. You wake up alone. You wake up in a city that doesn't understand you, strangers who want to prescribe you medicine or tell you to mediate. So you end up alone, and you know alone is how they like you. You’re not sure if demons lurk in your new city. You thought once that a man standing on the corner lit his cigarette with massive purple claws, and you ran, your feet echoing like gunshots through the streets. 

You never did learn to shoot a gun. You keep it in your nightstand drawer, but you know it wouldn't stop anything that's followed you out of California, out of Sunnydale. Once, you had a girlfriend. Rummaging around for a hair tie she discovered your small handgun, your safety blanket. She picked it up with her forefinger and her thumb, like it was filthy, like she didn't understand. “Why do you keep one of these awful things?” You couldn't answer her.

There's no girlfriend now. No one to make you coffee in the morning, no one to rub your back when you wake up with the feeling of teeth in your throat, tight grips on your ankles. She got tired of you, you poor, novel thing from the west. 

So it's been weeks. So it's been grocery shopping at 3am, staring at the wilting vegetables, trying to stay out of your apartment. It's been staying longer at the museum you work at. No, you don’t work there just to read the old books for some kind of answer, you lie. At your highschool, there was a librarian who kept swords. You think about sending him an email: Hey, Mr. Giles, do you sleep at night? Does it get easier? Where might I acquire a sword such as yours? You draft hundreds before you realize you have no idea where to send them. 

Your classmates don't keep in touch. there is no Facebook group, there is no reunion. There can’t be: Sunnydale is no more. It collapsed in itself. This should be comforting: but all you can think of is the beasts who crawled out of the pit, who remember the stink of your fear. Some folks stayed local, moving just a town over, the low thrum from the throat of hell enough the lull them into a stupid haze of breakfast, lunch, and getting eaten for dinner. The rest left. There are two hundred, give or take, Sunnydale immigrants scattered around the country, waking up alone. Waking up with a gun in their hands. Waking up dead. Your school newspaper had an obituary page. The boy who ran it wrote well, you thought, if cynical. Who the hell can blame him? Mr. Giles, you write. How come it didn't get us? Why are we still left? Mr. Giles, can you tell me if it's following us?

Last week a friend of a friend called you to say Dennis had died. Dennis… you remember now. He was the lead singer in that band, what was it? Something about Dingoes. You ask how he died. Sunnydale habits: You keep an ear out for the signs. The friend says, puncture wounds, on the neck. Police suspect it was inflicted by a barbeque fork. You drop the phone. You sharpen stakes, get splinters in your palms. Buy crucifixes by the dozen. More than once, you’ve slept in a church pew, under the painted ceiling. At work, your boss asks with some concern about the dark circles under your eyes. Long night, you say. You are starting to hate this city. In this city, there’s no hero.

Yes, you remember her. You know everyone else does, too. Buffy. One time, you saw her sparring with the librarian. No swords, just fists. Another time, she crawled out of your biology classroom window at the arrival of a dark haired girl who blew her kisses. One time, she slammed the computer science teacher against her own desk. Wacky shit. You knew, though. That Sunnydale High had to be the safest place in town because of her. She killed things, probably. Definitely. Then she left. Sometimes, there are whispers: “I heard Buffy’s in Rome.” “I heard she lives in a castle.” “I heard she’s dead.” God, please, no. After every long night, you pray she still lives. That she hasn't let her guard down. It's midnight. You draft another email. Mr. Giles. Buffy’s still alive, right? Please tell me she’s okay. People keep dying, Mr. Giles, and we’re not even in Sunnydale anymore. Can you tell me what happened there? Why can't I stop dreaming about the destroyed graves of everyone who died? Can you tell me anything at all? Mr. Giles, Dennis is dead. Oz’s friend. I hope Oz is alive, too. I hope you’re alive. I hope you’re well. Take care. This time, you call a colleague in London. You track down Gile’s email through a stroke of luck, and you hit send. You don’t hear back at all. 

Three months later, you receive a response. You’d almost forgotten about the message you sent. Your museum opened a new and successful gallery You received a promotion. You’ve been successful. (Yes, you’re even sleeping more. Shh, don’t say it too loud). You open the email.

Greetings and glad to hear from you- it’s wonderful to hear from old students. I do hope you’re well.

There is no easy way to answer these emails. Yes, you're not the only one who’s managed to reach me. I won’t disclose my location, or hers, but I can tell you that Buffy is safe, and alive, and I think she’s happy. She’s been happy for a while. I’ll tell her you asked, she likes to know that old classmates are doing well. Yes, Oz is alive. He’s been in Tibet for some time, though we do hear from him on occasion. He heard about Denis’s passing. Truly a tragedy. 

I’m quite pleased to hear you’ve entered museum studies: a deeply satisfying and enriching work. I hope that you are finding enough answers with it. I know that living on- Well, where we lived is disorienting, confusing. I’ll try to answer you as best I can. 

The swords I kept in the library (do never tell anyone I did that) I received as a present form a collector friend, who is long dead and whose collection is long scattered. The rest of the blade I received from my employers. I do not recommend keeping swords in your home as a safety measure. Invest in a good lock. Invest in protection charms found in books of the dark arts. I checked: your museum has some in collection. (Since you are emailing me, I can only guess that you’ve accepted explanations beyond those from the metaphysical realm).

I do sleep at night, thank you for asking.  It gets easier. I don’t say this just because I’ve put an ocean between myself and Sunnydale, no: time does heal. It helps that I’m with people who understand. It helps to name the thing in the dark. I’ll put you in contact with a colleague of mine- he’s in your museum network- and you can begin to build yourself a circle, if you wish. 

There is no reason that we live, my friend. There's no reason why any of our friends died. Your life is not a curse, I can promise you that. This isn’t borrowed time.

If you were being followed it would have gotten you by now. I apologize for my bluntness.

Oh, the ageless question of what happened. All the time in the world and I couldn’t give you a satisfactory answer. What would I say? That vampires haunt the sunniest part of California? That hell is real, and it can speak? I believe you already know the outline. What I can comfort you on is that yes. There are people who find evil, and they stop it. They haven't gone away. But that's not the point: don’t worry about them. Sunnydale is gone, dear student. It’s up to you to name the thing in the dark, keep it at bay. Be watchful, be wise. The world is bigger than most people know. 

Sincerely,

Rupert Giles

You close your laptop. You stretch your legs. You go into the bedroom to retrieve the handgun, then place it on the kitchen counter.  You stare at it. It doesn't move. You stare. The apartment is still, like the city is holding it in its throat. The clock strikes 4 am. It’s just a clock. It's just a gun. In your apartment, you’re just you, waiting for the sun to rise.

END

[inkandpen22]

Shared Minds and Shared Souls (5/?)

Pairing: Spike x Female!Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, depression, trauma, PTSD, some fluff 

Word Count: 2.3k  

Part Summary: After the hospital with Glory, Y/N falls into despair, unsure of whether or not the world around is real or Glory’s doing. Days go by and Spike grows frustrated as the Scooby Gang is lost on how to fix Y/N. So, he takes matters into his hands, doing everything in his power to bring her. 

Masterlist

"Bloody fix her!" I hear Spike yell at the others in the kitchen.  

I lay on the couch in the allusion version of the Summers's living room. All I can do is wait. Wait for the most-evil-big-bad to show up and take me away. I wait for this vision to end. Glory is messing with my head. I just know it. I'm still in her memories or worse, she dragged me down to Hell with her.  

"We can't, not yet at least," the imaginary Willow explains, sounding defeated.  

"We don't know the right spell, but we're not going to stop until we find it!" Tara assures, her tone carries a bit of hope in it. 

"What exactly did Y/N see when she entered Glory's mind?" Giles questions. "Perhaps that will help us figure out a solution."  

"Did she tell you anything, Spike?" The pretend Buffy inquires, her voice optimistic.   

"No!" The vampire shouts again. "You saw her! She won't even look at me, at any of us, and you think she told me everything?!"  

"Spike, we're just trying to help..." Willow mumbles, sounding mousey.   

“Yeah, since when do you care about Y/N or anyone of us for that matter?” Xander insults. 

“I don’t… ” Spike grumbles defensively. Then, he releases a deep sigh of frustration, “okay, look! The sooner Y/N is better, the sooner she can help with destroying Glory. Let’s pick up the pace here!” 

There's a prolonged pause and the allusion of Dawnie appears entering the room from the kitchen. She approaches me cautiously. Starring blankly ahead at the distant wall, the allusion of Dawn kneels beside me on the floor.

 "Hi Y/N," she mumbles, fiddling with the edge of her shirt nervously. "Do... Do you need anything? A glass of water? Some food? I... I can make anything you like!" She tells me with forced enthusiasm. "Oh, here!" She rises from her spot swiftly and reaches over me. 

Startled, I scream and fly up from my laid position. She's going to hurt me! She's a demon! She's going to kill me! She's going to drag me back to that place! All of the fire, the screaming, the pain! The others comes running into the room, the vision of Spike leading them.  

"I didn't mean to!" The fake Dawn urgently tells me, running to safety by Buffy. "I was just going to give her blanket!"  

The allusion of Buffy comforts her, "I know, you're okay! It's not you're fault. Y/N's just really fragile at the moment. We can't touch her or get too close, otherwise we'll scare her."   

Panicked, I shuffle my sight between all of them, waiting for one of them to charge at me. I curl up, bringing my legs close to my chest on the couch. Shaking, I can't find the words to speak. I'm afraid if I do they're retaliate and I'll be send back to the fiery place.   The figure disguised as Spike approaches me steadily, his hands up as a sign of peace. I don't believe it, not for a second. He's trying to trick me!   

He shushes softly, "it's okay Y/N. I'm not going to hurt you." 

I cower away, scooting to the farthest side of the couch from him. 

"You can also see people's energy. You can also see into people's minds, right?” He calmly moves closer until he's sat on the coffee table. “I want you to look into mine,” he instructs boldly, holding out his hand to me. 

I shake my head rapidly in a panic. No, I can’t do it again, not after what happened! Beside, my magic doesn't work in Hell. No, I saw it before. When the roots were attacking me, nothing worked. He's testing me. He wants an excuse to damn me to Hell. 

"I’ll focus only on the good memories! You told me that I can control what you see, right? If I remember that it’s all in my head and try hard enough! Let me prove to you that I’m really me and I’m not a threat to you!" The spirit disguised as Spike reasons. "Come on, use your powers, Love. Show yourself that I won't hurt you," he says in almost a plea. 

I hesitate, afraid of the repercussion if I do as he asks. He could show me more traumatizing images. I want to believe he's the real, do more than anything! If it were really him, it would mean I'm safe and truly out of Glory's nightmare. 

Buffy quietly steps forward to protest the idea. “Spike, I don’t think-”

“Just let her try for Christ’s sake!” He snaps, standing up to face everyone. Clearly, he’s hit his boiling point with all the bickering. “You all bloody act like she’s a goddamn porcelain baby and you’re afraid of dropping her. She’s the most powerful whatever-the-hell she is I’ve seen in my hundred and forty-eight years on this planet! Now, shut up!” He finishes, sitting back down on the table with a dramatic huff. 

Calmly, he looks at me and requests again, “try it, Pet. I know you can do it,” he encourages softly. 

Slowly, I meet him gaze. It’s the first time since the hospital I’ve look at anyone in the eye. I’ve been afraid that if I look, I’ll see the red eyes that frighten me more than I can bare to say. Instead, I’m meet with the familiar emeralds. They’re fake. They must be fake. They’re a part of the allusion. 

“Please…” Spike adds almost inaudibly. He eyes peer at me, filled with what appears to be despair. Reaching out his hand again, he waits for me to take it. 

I don’t feel threatening energy radiating from him, at least not directly. Then again, I don’t know how well the demons mask their intentions. My chest rises and plummets as my nerves and mind warn me not to do it. Yet, my gut is telling me to at least try. My heart is telling me to give him, the allusion, a chance.

Steadily I ease my shaky hand out to interlock with his own. Our hands meet and our fingers glides between each other. Gently, Spike rubs his thumb over my hand, doing his best to ease the shaking by squeezing it. He stares into my eyes and gives me a sharp nod of confidence. His features, however, express uncertainty and worry. I feel a surge of energy, the warning before the storm. I blink rapidly as the sensation of falling consumes me. Then, my vision goes black… 

I’m sat in my mother’s old parlor on the rug as I read her my newest poem. She rests on the loveseat behind me, petting my head gently. I worry for her. Her health hasn’t been ideal in recent weeks.  I read to her, knowing how much it makes her feel better. All I do when I can find a free moment, usually when she’s asleep during the daylight hours, is write more poetry in hopes that it heals her ailments. 

“William, my love,” she groans, moving to sit up. She holds out her hand and swiftly I assist her. She mutters a ‘thank you,’ expressing a weak smile. 

I peer up at my mother admiringly. I feel the fierce duty to protect her. She’s my whole world, I love no one more than her. 

She caress my cheek, “you, my William, are my angel on this Earth. All I want, as my dying wish, is for you to be happy and settled.” 

“I am happy, Mother,” I tell her, truly content. “There’s no other woman I need in my life than you.” 

She grins, releasing a soft giggle. Oh how I long to hear her laugh. It reminds me of when she was healthy and thriving. Gently, she guides me to rest my head in her laps as I did when I was a child. Steadily, she brushes her fingers through my hair comfortingly. “Early one morning…” She starts to sing her lullaby to me. It’s our song. She’s been singing it to me since infancy. It’s brings me unparalleled peace. I adore her voice. I adore her. There’s no one else in the world I need but her. 

With a jolt, like bringing dragged out to see by a strong wave, I’m back in the Summers’s living room. I gasp for air as I settle back into my body, my senses returning to me. The energy surge slowly leaving my bloodstream. Everyone’s eyes are on me, waiting for my words or at least a reaction in someway. 

Spike looks at me eagerly, a faint bit of hope in his eyes.  “Did it work?” 

Silently, I slowly move off the couch, standing to my feet. Spike leaps up from his position, causing me to jump a little. He frowns, disappointment returning to his face. Wrapping my arms around my body safely, I turn and walk out of the room. As I head up the stairs, discussion erupts in the living room. 

“What does this mean?” Xander questions urgently. 

“Well, did it work?” Anya adds. 

“Clearly it fucking didn’t!” Spike barks, followed by a thud and the sound of the coffee table dragging across the hardwood floor with a screech. 

“Spike!” Buffy shouts, “that’s not going to help Y/N!” 

“Screw this,” he curses, storming around downstairs. “I’m out of here! You lot aren’t going to do anything to help her! I’m going to find a way myself!” I hear the front door slam shut moments after. 

_______________________

Days later and I continue to lay in my bed as I have since fake Spike’s attempted to fix me. Alone and silently, I wait for the black smoke-like figures to come haunt me. Sleep is nonexistent because every time I try all I see are those red eyes starring back at me. They wish to drain me cold and consume my soul. The allusions of Buffy, Joyce, and Dawn take turns checking on me. Joyce worries and Buffy tries to get me to eat. Dawnie begs for me to return to normal. What is normal? I can’t remember what I was like before. There’s nothing waiting for me but the Hell I saw. I’m not okay. I’m slipping into an abyss of darkness. 

As night falls, the door to my room creaks open behind me, revealing a strip of light from the hall. Distant voices from downstairs linger in and I see someone cross in front of the light as they enter the room. I remain emotionless on my bed, facing the opposite wall. As a figure appears in my peripheral vision, I focus ahead blankly. 

“Hello there, Love,” Spike whispers, squatting at my bedside. 

I don’t react to his presence physically. Inside, I’m reaching out to him. I’m in a prison made up by my own mind. 

Spike hasn’t seen me since the day after the hospital. When I left the living room and he stormed out, he never came back to be exact. Fake Buffy told me in passing while she was bringing me food that he went away for a few days. I didn’t ask, she just told me. She went by his crypt after he hadn’t come around, he wasn’t there. He left a note saying he’d be back. 

“I won’t touch you, promise! Yo don’t have to worry about that,” he assures with a frown. “They say you haven’t eaten since…” he shakes his head, refusing to speak of that faithful day. “You need to eat Y/N. You look like you haven’t slept in days.” 

He worries, they all worry. What will worrying get them? Why don’t they just put me out of my misery? When will this vision end?! 

“Y/N!” He whispers my name harshly, not to alert the others downstairs. “Come on, Love, I know you’re in there somewhere! I don’t know exactly what Glory did to you or what you saw, but you have to fight this! It was another vision! It was only in your head! Dawnie, Buffy, Joyce, they need you…. I need you….” He barely says the last part, looking down at his hands. 

I process his words, but everything is delayed. Time has been off since I awoke in the hospital or at least changed visions. In my head, time moves slower and the agony is more intense. I’ve missed Spike more than I care to admit, even if he’s not really here with me and it’s all in my head. I welcome the allusion. 

Spike rises from his position with a sigh upon receiving no sort of reaction from me. “I heard of a guru in India who’s apparently dealt with this sort of things before while I was looking for help amongst the covens in New Orleans. I only came back to see if you’ve improved at all...” He moves to step away toward the door. “I’ll check back in before I leave for India,” he informs over his shoulder. 

No, no he can’t leave me, not again! Please, don’t leave me. On impulse, I break free of my mental prison and grab Spike’s wrist. His head whips around as his attention lands on my hand. His eyes meet mine wide-eyed with amazement. 

“Stay,” I struggle to speak for the first time in nearly over a week. 

Spike places his hand over mine. He lowers to my level, knelling beside my bed. A bright smile of glee spreads across his face as relief relishes in his emerald eyes. He cautiously reaches up, cupping my face and I don’t cower away. I ponder the feeling of his touch, leaning into his palm. It makes me feel more alive than I have in days. When I don’t flinch away, he releases a soft chuckle of joy. Before we have the chance to talk, my vision goes black.

____________________________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream​

@hexmancia

[one-leaf-grimoire]

“illusion’ // ch 9

AKA Captain Hervey go to hell challenge

It’s been a while! I still want to continue working on this even if it’s sporadic

Link to the full work on Ao3

Warning: mentions of drugs/assault 

I don't remember sleeping this well for weeks. The sheets of the bed seem to cradle me gently, and metaphorically rock me to sleep. It's comforting and warm... two feelings that my own bed doesn't afford any more. For the first time, I know that I'm safe as I sleep. No one's going to be strangling me in my sleep, or breaking in to-

BANG BANG BANG

My body sits straight up as if released from a spring, tearing me from my peaceful slumber. "H-Huh?" I would usually scream, but my mind is still fairly leaded from being in delta-wave sleep just moments away. Wait? Where am I? This bed is far too large to be mine, and the sheets are nicer. This isn't my room, either, why am I here?

Oh... right. 

The realization that this is in fact Julius's room and the events of last night weren't a dream hits me softly, and I can't help but smile a little. Right... I'm safe here, for now at least. But- I wince as the banging continues, now seeming to come from the door. What on earth is that-

Before I have a chance to think about it any further, the banging ceases as the door opens with a soft creak. I look over to see that Julius, who looks as tired as I am, got up to investigate, leaving his couch-nest in a hurry. "Alice? What brings you here at 3 am-"

"THANK GOD!"

As soon as she peers in and sees me sitting in bed, Alice completely disregards Julius's presence and pushes past him and into the room. "Alice? Why-" She basically tackles me and sends us both falling back onto the bed in a tangle. "Alice!" I cry out, wincing a bit as a headache starts to build from the shock of the past few seconds.

"I was so worried!" Alice grabs my shoulders as she sits back up, her eyes basically shaking in their sockets. "I came back, and- and you weren't in our room..." She shakes her head. "I thought someone came and kidnapped you, but you were just in here..." Her momentary worry suddenly melts away, and she smirks. "I came here because I thought Julius could help me look for you... I didn't expect you to come here first." 

I blink, my weary mind still working hard to catch up to what she's saying. "O-Oh... well, actually-"

"Yes! Luckily, she came here first!" Julius suddenly cuts in after standing awkwardly next to the door while Alice cried all over me. I'm still adding everything up as he continues speaking. "She told me about everything before... and I just-"

"Oh, I see." Alice holds up a hand to stop him, one arm still slung over my shoulder. "Well, you can come back to our room now that I'm home. Unless you'd rather stay here to continue being comforted~"

Julius goes pale when he finally realizes what she's implying. "Oh- uh- ah, well, you see-"

"Actually, yeah, that's fine, you can go." I give Alice a wink, not really thinking about it. "Sorry to worry you. Just don't tell anyone, you know?"

Alice bites her lip to keep from giggling, before patting me on the back and standing up. "Well, I'll leave you to it." She spares Julius just one short glance before turning to leave, shutting the door behind her.

After a long, LONG moment of silence, Julius finally swallows and turns to look at me, a perplexed look on his face. His earlier flustered state seemed to be the result of being woken up so suddenly, but he still looks a little embarrassed after what I implied to Alice. "So... ah..." He somehow manages to smile, running a hand over his mussed hair in a vague effort to smooth it down. "Is there a reason you just told her-"

"I said it before, didn't I? Alice doesn't have an alibi anymore." I avert my eyes and flop back down into bed, straining to keep from making a fool of myself. In reality, I'm just as embarrassed as he is, but I have to keep a cool head. "It's better if she doesn't know that I freaked out. So... you're the excuse. I came here because, well..." I don't really have to say the rest of that sentence.

Julius doesn't speak again for a few seconds, before I hear him let out a long sigh. Was that exasperated? Relieved? Disappointed? I resist the urge to glance over my shoulders at him to get a read on what he's really thinking. The ambiguity is surprisingly upsetting to me. "I see... Alright. You told her to keep quiet, anyway, so this won't become a problem."

"Yeah, if she can keep her mouth shut." I shake my head a little at the thought, hoping to god that I haven't made things worse. The only reason Alice didn't question this is because she already knows about my plot to get away from Lawrence, otherwise she would have been a lot more doubtful of the lie that I was, er, canoodling with Julius. But if she opens her mouth and gloats to someone- say, Elia- about this, it could lead to a lot of trouble. And I'm in enough of that already.

I hear him move again, flicking off the lights, then the sound of him nestling back into his makeshift bed. His breathing slows, but I know he's still awake.

"...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so quick to throw you into this-"

"No, it's fine." Julius clears his throat, his response so quick that I wonder if he was actually anticipating my response. "I'm happy to help... in any way I can."

In any way I can.

For some terrible reason, that phrase excites me. I quickly squeeze my eyes shut and ignore the momentary spike of thrill... no matter

"Thanks, Julius. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

..............................

"So... you're looking pretty tired there, friend."

I nearly choke on the croissant I'm chewing on as Alice slyly comments on my appearance. "Ah- Alice! Shut up, shut up-"

"What, hard night?" Nigel pipes up, of course deciding to pursue the throwaway comment right now. "I thought you went to bed early."

"Yeah, did something happen?" Elia leans forward to peer over at me from around Giles on my other side.

Alice giggles and hides her smirk behind her cup as she sips on apple juice. "Oh, she stayed up late-"

I kick Alice in the shins hard under the table, causing her to squeak and spill juice down the front of her shirt. "Ah! What was that for-"

"I told you to shut up," I whisper-shout at her, trying to stay calm as my heart rate skyrockets. Shit! I knew this might be a problem, but she only keeps important secrets, and stuff like this she'll be ready to spill at any time. Maybe I shouldn't have been so quick to put me and Julius into a fake relationship, even if Alice is the only one who knows about it. God, this situation just keeps getting worse, and it's all my fault.

"Huh. You're acting mighty suspicious." Nigel wiggles his eyebrows like the asshole he is. "You sneak out to see your fiance or something?"

"N-No, nothing like that!" I quickly answer. "I just... I had a night terror and Alice won't stop teasing me about it."

"Aw, that's not very nice." Elia quickly loses interest in the decidedly un-juicy explanation and immediately goes back to eating.

"I know, you're not supposed to tease people about having nightmares." I shoot a warning glance over at Alice, and she finally sobers up. I just need to keep her reined in. Hopefully soon Julius and I will get to the bottom of this and I can tell her the truth. But until then...

"Hey, you wanted to see the Captain, right? He's in his office now."

I look up to see that Julius just walked up behind me, looking down at me with a smile that betrays absolutely nothing about what he's thinking. Well, to everyone else, that is. I can pick up on the hint of anticipation in his eyes, hanging just in the corners. We did agree this morning to go tell the Captain everything, but I'm still feeling very worried. After all... what proof do I have? And is Hervey even a safe person to tell? Julius assured me that his presence would make everything okay, and I'm willing to trust his judgement for now.

"Right. Let's go."

I ignore the looks on my friends's faces as I stand up and follow Julius out of the room, making our way to the stairwell. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"I think so! He'll be a big help if he agrees to it. We don't have many leads, other than one of your friends at the bar being involved," Julius answers, glancing down at me by his side. "I can do the talking if you want?"

"I can do it," I insist, clenching my fists at my sides to steel myself. "I know the most details... you're just here to back me up."

"Ah, right, yes ma'am." I shoot a little glare up at his jest, but I can't help but smile a little. Julius, you're just too good. I'll make sure to thank you properly later.

"Although, I was thinking about something-" Julius suddenly continues, slowing to a stop. "Maybe you shouldn't be so quick to cut Alice out. I know she could be a suspect... but last night, it really seemed like she was truly worried."

I suck in a breath, considering his words. It hurts to think about the possibility of being betrayed by Alice, yeah, especially after so many years of being her best friend. But, I can't shake the feeling that she might be involved. "I... I don't want to take the risk. It could be fatal if I make a mistake right now. And anyway..." I shake my head. "Her reaction is no reason to trust her. People lie, for whatever reason."

Julius's brow furrows, before he lets out a sigh. "That's fine, then. I just don't want you to needlessly... isolate yourself."

Isolate.

That's the whole point of this, right? These attackers, for whatever reason, have planted a potent seed of paranoia within my heart, forcing me to distance myself and suspect my friends and squad mates. I've never been so alone in my life. 

"But, in that case, I'll stick to the plan." Julius gives me a thumb up. "We just have to pretend to be in a relationship... while also pretending to not be in a relationship... while pretending to not know about the traitor in our squad... while pretending to just be friends... while-"

"Stop talking, please."

It's enough to make anyone's head spin, but somehow both Julius and I end up giggling together as we turn and keep walking up the stairs towards Hervey's office. "Anyway, hopefully this can be cleared up soon, so things can go back to normal."

"Yeah, yeah, for sure."

He answered that so quickly. For some reason, that fact is slightly upsetting to me.

"Julius? What brings you two here." Captain Hervey eyes the pair of us as we enter his office and Julius closes the door behind us. "Don't tell me she's causing trouble or something."

"Huh, me?" I shake my head quickly.

"She's probably our best-behaved intermediate knight, Captain," Julius reminds him with a smile. "But no, she's not the one in trouble... but someone else definitely is."

Oh boy, here we go... I gulp nervously, squeezing and unsqueezing my hands a few times in an effort to compose myself.

"Hmm? Is something wrong?" Hervey's hard expression softens for just the briefest of moments. "Go on, spit it out. If something's happening with my squad, I want to know."

Despite the callousness of his words, they encourage me to finally find the strength to speak. "I'm sorry for not saying anything about this sooner, sir, but you have to understand... I was afraid. Back on New Years day, do you remember me coming in with all those injuries?"

My captain's eyes narrow. "...vaguely? Was that you?"

"Yes... I told everyone that I fell down the stairs, but that was a lie. Well, kind of- er-"

"A lie? Kind of? You're not making any sense, girl."

The harshness of his words feel as cold as his ice magic, and suddenly I want nothing more than to just sprint away as fast as I can. "S-s-sorry, sir, I meant-"

"Captain, please, just listen." Julius's hand suddenly lands on my shoulder as he finally speaks up, saving the day once again. "She's been through a lot... she told me all this first."

"Well? Then what the Hell happened?" Hervey glares at me again, but by now I've managed to calm down enough to continue.

"I was pushed down the stairs, and two people proceeded to beat me until I was unconscious."

It seems like, out of all the things Hervey was expecting to hear, that was not one of them. His mouth visibly opens and closes a few times before he can formulate a response. "...What?!"

"And that's not all!" Julius reminds me. I nod in agreement before continuing. "And two nights ago, someone at the bar drugged me. Everyone thought I had a hangover, but according to the bar tab, I only had one drink. That's not nearly enough to get drunk, even for a lightweight like me." I don't take my eyes off his face, gauging his every reaction. With each new sentence, he starts to become more and more uncomfortable. "I was attacked twice... the second time, I managed to get away, because Julius found me before anyone else could." Julius nods in agreement. "The worst part is that my attackers are definitely from this squad."

"From... this squad." Hervey's face is blank, his eyes still harboring that vague discomfort. "From... my squad..."

"She told me all this, so I suggested we tell you. You can help us better, anyway," Julius suggests. "In my opinion, if someone in this squad is behind this, then-"

"No."

"-then we should definitely start looking into it-"

Julius's voice trails off when he realizes what Hervey just said. I feel my heart drop.

"...Captain? I beg your pardon-"

"I said no." Hervey's face has hardened again, all emotion suddenly extinguished in his eyes. I've never seen that light fade so quickly, and the moment scares me more that I would like to admit. Now, he's utterly unreadable. "You're saying someone on your own squad tried to kill you? Twice?"

"I-i mean, maybe they weren't trying to kill me, but- it-it could be that, or-" His sudden seriousness is causing me to stumble over my words, dangerously close to taking a nosedive."

"Or what?" Hervey shakes his head in a dismissive way before bombarding me with more questions. "Well, do you have any proof? Any suspects? Anything at all?"

Each one hits me like a bullet, triggering my flight-or-fight reaction again. Stay calm! Just answer him with what you know. "Well, other than the fact that I was drugged, my attacker on New Years was wearing our squad cloak. And as for suspects, Alice, Giles, Nigel, and Elia were at the bar with me last night-"

"Listen to you!" Hervey suddenly barks and points at me accusingly. "Your friends drugged you? Are you sure it wasn't just some creep at the bar?"

"I mean, I didn't see-"

"And your attacker was wearing our cloak? Nonsense..." Hervey shakes his head. "I don't want to hear any more."

I open my mouth to object, but I almost make an embarrassing choking sound instead. What? But- he was supposed to believe me, right? What more am I supposed to say?!

"S-Sir, I- I'm sure of what happened, if we don't figure out who did this-"

"No one did anything, alright?" Hervey cuts me off before Julius can step in to deescalate the situation. "Listen- I'm sure you were actually drugged the other night. But that shit happens to, like, 4 out of 5 women or something like that. You should have known to be more careful."

"If I may interject-" Julius suddenly speaks up, a grim look failing to be hidden behind his smile. "She was with her friends, people she trusted-"

"Yeah, people she's more than willing to throw under the bus." Hervey snaps. "And on New Years, you probably just hit your head real hard and hallucinated the whole thing. There. Now, just be more aware of your surroundings next time and don't be such a klutz."

"K-Klutz?" I repeat, still a little shocked and upset that this is even happening. "Captain, please, if you would just listen-"

"No!" Hervey points at me accusingly one last time. "I won't let you spread rumors and let your paranoia pull this squad apart! Do you have any idea how long it took to build the Grey Deer to its current reputation? Years! I'm not going to sit here and let a hysterical woman convince me to start tearing it all down because you got drugged at a bar!"

The rudeness of his words just sends me spiraling down further. Sure, Hervey had never been the most fatherly or kind mentor, but this sudden aggression is so-

"Hervey, I think you should at least consider it-" Julius finally steps in as soon as he has the chance, his voice raised just slightly enough to show he's serious. "These past few weeks have been agonizing for her, and it doesn't help for you to just come out and start calling her hyst-"

"Julius, you can't be so emotional about these things-" Hervey doesn't let him get his full sentence in. "Take her away and talk some sense into her, please-"

Anger flashes through Julius's eyes. "But-"

"Yes sir." 

Before Julius can respond, I pull away from his side and basically run out of the room. The pressure of that interaction mounted so high that I thought I might actually break under it, so I expect leaving to be a breath of relief. But it's not. The pressure persists, chasing me as I finally slow to a stop, leaning against the hallway wall. All at once, the unfairness of the situation hits me, and I feel tears prick at my eyes, welling up hotly in my throat.

God... maybe I'm just an idiot.

The words are still stinging at my soul. The way he just... dismissed me. 

Maybe he's right... and I'm just hysterical.

I always suspected it, even though my attack felt so real.

And women do get drugged all the time... I should feel lucky that it wasn't any worse.

"Hey, there you are-"

I turn to see Julius run up, and a spike of fear shoots through me instinctively. I can't talk to him right now, not after being embarrassed like that-

"S-Sorry, Julius, I didn't mean for it to go that way-" I say before he can start talking. "And now the Captain's mad at you too... ugh!" I start to turn to run away again. "Just forget about all this, it's done."

"Wait!" His hand suddenly closes around my arm. "That's not what-"

"Please, Julius-" I wrench my arm away, just glancing back at him one last time. My heart nearly stops at the sight of his expression, which is so... sad. And disappointed... perhaps disappointed in me. 

"I've had enough sense talked into me for one day."

Without another word, I turn and run off to be alone with nothing but my shame.

Uh oh! What’s MC supposed to do now?

Please PLEASE give me a crumb of feedback I'm losing motivation quickly.

[nothingeverlost]

Marta the Vampire Slayer

I don’t even know.  I was thinking about my already in progress Cablanca fic, and reading Buffy/Giles fic, and then as I was falling asleep this happened in my brain.  

“It’s all true, my dear girl.  Every Slayer or potential Slayer is assigned a Watcher, to train them in the art of fighting and to aid them in the fight against the dark.  Harlan was your Watcher.”

II

“Where’s Harlan’s body?”  The question came only a few minutes after Benoit Blanc introduced himself as an old friend of Harlan’s.  She hadn’t even had a chance to find out why he’d come or how he’d known, somehow, that Harlan had died.

“It’s at the morgue.  They have to do an autopsy.”  She remembered the strange wound at his neck and the blood that stained his shirt collar.  The cops thought he’d killed himself, because of the knife in his hands, but there was still something about the wound that wasn’t right.

“We have to go there right away.  I’m surprised you’re not there already.”  Mr. Blanc picked up his bag.  “Were there any signs that they might have tried to turn him?  Any blood stains near his mouth?”

“I don’t understand.”  Why would it matter if someone had turned him over?

“It’s a great coup, to turn a Watcher.  His knowledge of his Slayer, of course, is invaluable but what most vampires find satisfying is the potential mind games.  Few things rattle a Slayer more than coming face to face with a demon wearing the face of a friend.”

“Slayer?  Watcher?”  He spoke the words as if they meant something.

“Oh dear.  I was hoping Harlan would have explained at least some of the fundamentals to you.  I’ll have to explain as we go.  We need to be at the morgue as soon as we can; the sun is about to rise.”  He spoke with a Southern drawl that made her think of picnics in the sun but changed direction quick enough to make her dizzy.

“Harlan’s children will be here soon.”  She’d called Linda as soon as the police had allowed her.  Linda would tell Walt and Joanie.

“They won’t be any use in this.”  He ushered her into his car before she’d realized they’d even left the house.  She felt numb, like her brain wasn’t connected to her feet or anything else.  She should have insisted that they stay at the house.  What happened when Linda and the family arrived?  What if the police called again?  And what did he mean by turning?

“The morgue will be closed by now.”  It would be dark outside in half an hour.

“Good, that should make it easier to get inside.  Fewer people to distract.”

“You don’t really mean to go inside, do you?”  Corpses weren’t anything new; she’d had to dissect them for her AP bio classes, and she was planning on being premed next year in college.  She wasn’t ready to see Harlan like that.

“We’re both going to have to go in, I’m afraid.  We need to be certain that he’s not going to rise.”

“He’s dead.”  Blood dripping down his neck and his eyes fading as he tried to whisper something to her.  She hadn’t been able to understand.

“He is, and I’m sorry Marta, I really am.  I know you will need time to mourn him, but unfortunately right now there are more pressing matters.  We need to be certain he stays dead,” he said emphatically.

 “People don’t come back from the dead, not after their brain activity stops.”  It had been hours since she’d found him.  He’d be so cold now.

“There are exceptions.”  He looked at her once, as they pulled up to the red light of an intersection.  Until the car started again he was silent.  “Harlan has been training you, hasn’t he?”

“Someone comes to the house three days a week for judo lessons.  Harlan says it’s important that I know how to defend myself.”  Her mom had always said to make as much noise as she could and then run, but Harlan said you couldn’t always get away.  “He’s teaching me fencing too, but I think that’s more because he misses having someone to spar against.  And we play Go in the evenings, because he says it’s good training for the brain.”

“He’s right about not always being able to run.”  Mr. Blanc parked the car on the street behind the morgue.  “Has he trained you with any weapons?”

“Other than the epee?  He showed me how to use a knife and how to get a weapon away from an attacker.  And he explained a lot of his weapons.”  He had a whole wall of them, some centuries old.  Marta had put it down to his being a mystery writer.  “Sometimes we do archery.  I’m pretty good at that.”

“Yes, well it’s going to be too small of a room for arrows, and a knife isn’t going to help you if the worst happens tonight.  You’ll need this.”  He opened the bag he’d stowed in the trunk and handed her a stick.  Sure, it was sharp on one end but it was still a stick.

“I’m going to defend myself with a stick?”  

“Yes, and remember to aim for the heart.  The wood has to pierce the heart for it to work.”  He was already making his way towards the back door.  Marta didn’t have any choice but to keep up, the wood still clenched in her hand despite her confusion.

“What if someone sees us?”  It wasn’t quite dark yet, and he was kneeling in front of the door with a lock pick in his hand.  He might be able to get off, but she wasn’t a white guy with a charming accent.  And she had a weapon, if you could call it that.  She was so going to jail.

“We tell the truth, or at least part of it.  Our friend died today.  We didn’t know the morgue was closed already.”  It didn’t take him much longer to open the door then it would have with a key.  She had to wonder why he was so good at that.  The lights were off, the hallway already dim.  It only took a few steps to get to the room they were looking for.  “It’s always better to at least start with the truth.”

“I can’t lie.”  Even thinking about it had bile rising at the back of her throat.

“Ah yes, I heard about that.  Well I’m sure regurgitation would be just as good at distracting anyone who asked a question.”  He opened the door, holding it for her to enter first.  She really didn’t want to go in, but couldn’t figure out how to say no to him.  “Oh good, it looks like everyone is still nicely tucked in.”

“You said you would explain things.”  She pulled her cardigan a little tighter around her.  It wasn’t actually getting colder in the room, was it?

“I did, and I always endeavor to keep my promises.  There isn’t an easy way to explain this, but the simple version is that vampires are real, and in order to battle the forces of dark there is a Slayer, a girl gifted with the power to fight the vampire and protect our world.  When one Slayer dies a new one is called.  And that, Marta Cabrera, is you.”

“Are you in a mystery writing group with Harlan?  Is that how you knew him?”  She would laugh if she remembered how.

“It’s all true, my dear girl.  Every Slayer or potential Slayer is assigned a Watcher, to train them in the art of fighting and to aid them in the fight against the dark.  Harlan was your Watcher.”

“Harlan was a friend of the family.”  He’d taken her and Alice in, two years ago when their mom had died.  She’d never met him before that, but he’d apparently been an old friend of her father’s from years ago and since she and Alice had no other family he’d become their guardian.

“He has quite the extensive library.  Did you ever see books about vampires and magic in his collection?”

“He writes mystery novels.  Some of them have occult plot lines.”  She might have looked at them, finding them fascinating, but it was all fiction.  It had to be.

“Does he train your sister in fencing and martial arts?”

“She’s younger than I am and doesn’t go places alone.”  She was thirteen now, and a freshman; it was the only year they would go to school together.  Marta had just started her senior year.

“Vampires are very real, Marta.  I’m afraid you’re going to learn that soon.  If not tonight then we’ll start patrolling tomorrow.”

“Patrolling what?”  The tables in the middle of the room were all empty, but there was a wall of drawers that Marta knew didn’t hold papers.  Harlan was in one of those drawers.

“Cemeteries.  It’s the best place to find new vampires other than morgues and I don’t think we should break into one too often.  It’s better if you start out with ones that are new, before they’ve learned to use their strength.”

“I’d like to go home now.”  She didn’t think she could take much more.  Then again she didn’t know how much longer she had a home either.  Harlan was her guardian but he was dead.  He had kids, though she hadn’t met them very often.  She was pretty sure none of them would be interested in taking in a pair of orphaned teenagers.

“I’m afraid it’s time for your first lesson, Marta.  You have your stake?”  Behind her there was a sound of metal rolling.  One of the drawers was opening but she and Mr. Blanc were the only ones in the room.  

“Mr. Blanc…”

“Why don’t you call me Benoit?  We’re going to be spending a lot of time together.”  His touch to her shoulder was gentle.  “Now just remember to aim for the heart, alright?”

Marta turned and wanted to scream when a man came lunging at her.  It was a young man, someone she’d never seen before.  Even though she didn’t believe what was happening she was grateful it wasn’t Harlan.  The stake in her hand was weirdly comforting.  

“Aim for the heart,” she whispered to herself.  Maybe she took her own advice, or maybe she just reacted.  When the man - thing - got too close she moved her hand.  A piece of wood shouldn’t be enough to impale someone but she felt it hit flesh.  A moment later he was gone and all that remained was a pile of ash on the floor of the cemetery.

“Good girl.  How do you feel?” Benoit asked.

“Fine,” she answered politely.  A moment later she threw up in the trash can.

It was an hour before they left,  One moment Benoit had been telling her a story about a demon prophecy thwarted a year ago, and the next he had declared that if Harlan had turned he wouldn’t have been so patient.  They were spared that painful task, at least.

“What happens now?”  She asked after they drove back to the house in silence.  

“You will need to train and study with a Watcher.  Tomorrow we’ll start night-time patrols.”

“You said Harlan was my Watcher.”  

“He was a good Watcher and a good man.  He will be missed but the Council would never leave you unprotected.  I did not come just to tell you that you’re a Slayer, Marta.  I am your new Watcher.”  

“Oh.”  She didn’t know what else to say.  It was all too much, and she wanted nothing more than her bed.  Alice was at a friend’s birthday slumber party, and tomorrow she would have to tell her about Harlan.  They would have to figure out what came next, which she thought was hard enough when it meant where they were going to live and who would take care of them.  But apparently, now there were vampires and demons too.

“We’ll work on it all together, a little at a time.  You’re more prepared for this then you know.  I will help you see that,” Benoit promised.

Marta looked over her shoulder when she got out of the car.  The house was surrounded by darkness.  She wondered what was out there, waiting.

[buffyversefanfiction]

Tristan Tormented

Fanfiction Series to “Buffy the vampire Slayer” series, “Angel” series and the Buffyverse continuation in the “Dark Horse Comics” series. Warning: I do not own the rights to the television show Buffy the Vampire Slayer, its spin-off series Angel, its dark horse comics continuation series, or any of the characters created by Joss Whedon and others in the Buffyverse. 15 years +, Mild to Strong Violence, Sexual References F/F, F/M, M/M, Other +

Volume 3 - Able Angel

Vampire Tristan Summers had a mission on his mind and he was not going to stop until he achieved said mission, the mission being destroying anyone who could remotely bring out the man inside his monster and although the list was not long it was still a hefty task after all he had almost died several times before when trying to take out some of them and did die with one of them.

Angel was never meant to be a father mostly due to his undead status so when he did father his first child Connor he found himself feeling an unconditional love like no other only to lose him to another world and although over the years they had made major progress their bond was still nowhere near as great as Angel hoped it would be and now he was facing all that pain again with Tristan Summers only this time it was worse because sooner or later Angel’s second son would have to be stopped and his biggest fear had become the idea that he might just have to be the one that does the stopping. “You have to forgive me someday Angel,” Faith told him as she walked through the front doors of the abandoned looking Hyperion Hotel, chasing after her vampire friend, pleading with him to forgive her for past mistakes. “This is not just some mistake Faith; you kept my son from me and then you stopped me from killing him so now he is out there killing people and that is on you!” Angel argued. “He was killing people long before he was a vamp and if we give up on him now, he will be long after.” Faith replied, eager to make Angel side with her on her quest to save Tristan’s soul. “He was coming off less evil not a lot less evil but still less and I just know if we get Willow to ram a soul down his throat or however that goes then you may finally get to have some kind of relationship with him.” “Do not think I do not want to be a father to him, of course I do but you and Buffy made it impossible and now the next time I see him I am going to have to kill him!” Angel admitted to the redeemed slayer. “He has no soul and even when he did, he was evil.” “We both took walks on the dark side and we had each other’s backs why can’t we have his too?” Faith asked him, reminding them both of their dark pasts. “It’s not as black and white as that.” Angel reluctantly replied, once again facing the fact he may have to kill his own child. “Then let us dive straight into the grey and save your son.” Faith responded, making her determination clear to Angel. “On this particularly rare occasion I happen to agree with Faith.” Giles announced as he walked through the front doors shocking both Angel and Faith by his presence. “After my failed attempt to rehabilitate him I have been working hard to find a way to make things right.” “Failed attempt?” Faith scoffed at the former watcher, “That is like me saying oops my stake slipped when I killed a guy, somehow I do not think that response would have went down that well, nor is yours.” “It would have been more believable than trying to pin the crime on Buffy.” Giles replied to the troubled slayer. “Look I am here to make things right!” “Trust me when I say your nowhere near the top of the list of people who need to make things right for me, even if you did almost kill my son, Dru actually did so she’s ahead of you in that department.” Angel explained to Giles, making it clear no ill will was held between the two of them. “Thank you, Angel,” Giles responded to the vampire with a soul before walking over to him and Faith. “I’ve been referring with some old friends about the impossibility of Tristan Summers as well as doing some digging on my own and the information I have found was…well rather astonishing really! The boy really is one of a kind.” “Something tells me this is going to be one big watcher talk when I would rather just be out there doing what needs done.” Faith chimed in, making it clear she wanted Giles to get his point across quickly. “I stumbled upon a prophecy of a human who was born of both vampire and slayer origins yet somehow remained human and as I continued to read the text in which is was written it only grew more fascinating. The prophecy spoke of the human becoming a slayer by his own means, then later a vampire by another’s hands and yes I know that already sums up what has happened but it was the next part that really blew my mind, so to speak.” Giles informed them both. “You see it said the boy would change before becoming a slayer in his own right but he would not change after becoming a vampire, it spoke of how all that was remained unlike any vampire before him and how it would lead to the beginning of the demonic slayer…a being possible of both great things and terrible evils but a being needed in an upcoming apocalypse nonetheless.” Angel and Faith remained stood in shock by Giles’ revelation that Tristan was still the man he was before a monster and while that idea did not surprise Faith entirely due to her strong belief in the rogue slayer turned vampire it did surprise her hearing it was possible for Tristan to do some good, as Angel remained shocked by every word, knowing Giles would not lie to them but not wanting to admit there was hope for his son until he saw it for himself, having lost his sons one too many times before.

After throwing his latest victim’s body to the ground, having drained the woman completely of her blood, a full vamp face Tristan wiped the blood off his face before return to his human form which was when he realized the alleyway he had found himself was very familiar to him being too hungry and focused on the hunt before too realise where he was going but now he was fed and his victim was dead he realized his hunt had taken him home. Memories of his beloved Dante began charging through his mind as he felt all the pain of losing him once more while continuing to walk down the alleyway until Tristan stopped outside of the boarded up building he and Dante once called their home, the deadly demonic dive bar where he had last experienced any kind of happiness with his now fully dusted vampire lover. Tristan could swear just by standing outside the building itself that he could smell Dante but he knew that was his mind playing tricks on him, wanting to undo what could not be undone but still feeling Dante once more was what he needed in that moment as he began tearing down the planks of wood boarding up the door to his home before kicking the door open and walking in. “Did he know about Drusilla?” He wondered about Dante as he stood in the middle of the barely standing demonic dive bar, once again taking in the ruins of what used to be. “Did he help kill my parents? No, he would not do that to me…he loved me…but he did not love me then.” He had never doubted Dante’s love for him for one second and felt bad for doubting it now he was gone but with Drusilla having lied to him all these years he couldn’t help but wonder if any of his time spent with Dante was true or was he playing a role just like his sire Drusilla. “Did anybody ever really love me?” He asked himself, fearing the answer was no. “Could anybody really love a monster like me?” Tristan quickly realized he was not alone to his thoughts when he heard footsteps coming from the front door and like a knee jerk reaction he quickly picked up a piece of broken wood from the ground ready to slay whoever dared come into his home only to be left completely stunned when none other than Spike walked in. “I guess you never got far from those woods, but I guess why would you when this place was your home.” Spike said as he held his hands up to show he had no weapons and had no plans to fight Tristan, “I only want to talk to you kid.” “Why would I want to talk to my mother’s pet?” Tristan asked his fellow vampire, while clutching the wooden stake in his hand tighter. “You see I do not feel like talking but I am always down for killing.” “I want to help you and I know somewhere in there you want to be helped.” Spike told him. “You really are desperate to get Buffy to look at you again.” Tristan laughed cruelly, amused by Spike’s words. “Hate to break it to you but me bad you good we do not talk we just fight to the death.” “The hatred you had for Drusilla remained after turning didn’t it? And that hatred comes from a place of love, the love you had for your adoptive parents, the love I am going to guess you still have for them?” Spike questioned the slayer turned vampire, already knowing he was right. “Wow, of all the pep talkers I did not take you for one but then again you are Buffy’s pet after all.” Tristan replied, eager to antagonize Spike. “I barely had feelings when I was alive and I sure as hell do not have any now.” “Would you stop with the bloody pet talk?” Spike groaned as he walked closer to Tristan. “If you stop calling me kid,” Tristan responded before throwing a right punch across Spike’s face. “because this kid has gone pro now!” Spike wasted no time in replying to Tristan’s violence with some more violence as he punched the former slayer across the face leading to Tristan headbutting Spike in the face before kicking him to the ground. “I guess the slayer strength stuck around after death.” Spike replied as he quickly rose back on his feet, before his face turned into full vamp mode and he charged towards Tristan ready for a brutal fight with the son of the woman he loved.

Meanwhile back in Los Angeles, Angel sat behind his desk within his office at the Hyperion Hotel reading from the books that Giles, fact checking what Giles had already informed of about his son Tristan, realizing that his son did somehow still have his soul despite becoming undead making Tristan more like his father than Angel ever expected him to be. He must have re-read the text within those ancient and mystical books a hundred times not believing the truth to what he was reading as he struggled to come to terms with not only his sons seemingly indestructible soul but the importance he would have in an upcoming apocalypse, not even wanting to think about the likelihood of Tristan being on the team of evil rather than good. “You know you can keep reading it forever and it is not going to change, trust me I read it about a million times before I even began to consider it being true.” Giles told Angel as he walked into the vampire’s office. “Then went the excruciating research, the endless pleading of former colleagues to decipher it differently or at the very least some definition of whether he was fighting for good or evil.” “I get the demonic part of being a slayer I mean I feel the demon inside of me every day but I do not understand how it is even possible for him to still have a soul.” Angel answered as he closed the books and stood up to stand face to face with Giles. “You are a vampire with a soul the very definition of impossible clearly your son takes after you in that sense. I cannot begin to try and explain how he is possible let alone how his soul is still intact, but I do believe this means there’s something inside of your son that is salvageable.” Giles attempted to explain, revealing his newfound optimism towards helping Tristan find redemption. “Why not go straight to Buffy?” Angel wondered, “I am glad you came to me with this but why not her?” “I am not exactly on speaking terms with Buffy or Willow for a matter of fact after almost killing your child, besides I truly believe if it comes past the point of redemption that you will do what you have to do…so would Buffy of course but I would rather spare her from that pain.” Giles admitted to the dark-haired vampire. “I guess this means it is time for a father son reunion.” Angel declared, terrified to how this intervention for his second child would end, hoping beyond hope it would not end in him having to kill his son. “Count me in!” Faith chimed in as she walked into the room, making it clear she was eavesdropping the entire time and she was more than eager to take part in another round of team twisted. Giles had convinced Angel that his claims were real and even convinced him to take part in his redemption rescue mission but one person who never needed any convincing was Faith who had been backing Tristan from the beginning despite his endless evil deeds. A part of Faith connected with Tristan or at least her former self anyway, a part of her that was still in there deep down but had been controlled for a long time now and she believed she could help the slayer turned vampire into controlling his dark side too. Faith Lehane was never the saving souls type until she found her own saved and although she did not make a case of going out on a limb for most if any people she was determined to get Tristan Summers on the right side, partly because of seeing herself in him, partly to do something good for Buffy to make up for all the bad and to make up for straining her relationship with Angel. The funny thing about the path to redemption is the person seeking it for themselves tend to pick up a lot of others along the way, believing deep down that if they can help as many people as possible down that path then they would ultimately be helping themselves too.

“Yeah funny thing about Tristan…let me just say I have him secured already!” Spike said down the phone to Faith while standing in Tristan’s former demonic bar, bloody and bruised from his fight with the demonic slayer which he had eventually grown the upper hand in as a passed out Tristan lay on the floor beneath Spike’s feet.

[sacredslaycdd]

Hi, I have a lot of Dawn introspection tonight because I feel like a lot of people give her a hard time. I’ve seen a lot of comments about Dawn recently and we’re ABSOLUTELY all entitled to our own opinions so i’m going to post alot of the thoughts I have, I’m not saying it’s going to ELEQUENT because hey, when am I ever? Putting it under a read more because it’ll likely be long, I’ll try to put it into points so you can actually take a breath lol. 

Where shall we start? Her childhood.  - Buffy and Dawn have a fairly big age gap, which means, in a sense, while the love is CERTAINLY there, I’d bet things were always strained. Buffy was always older and so much cooler, naturally outshone her.  - And then the slayer thing kick in, Buffy’s always in trouble so she’s still the centre of attention.  - Her parents begin to argue more, and if I remember rightly, Buffy distinctly remembers holding Dawn one time (possibly when their father left?) because she was distraught. The fighting alone can be detramental, it’s not a fun enviroment and I imagine Dawn is still pretty young at the time.  - Her dad leaves and he’s pretty absentee after that.  - They move to sunnydale, because of Buffy, away from all of the friends she has and the school she’s familiar with. She has to fit in somewhere new and make new friends.  - Weird occurances are ALWAYS happening, pretty scary for a kid.  - Going to jump ahead to S5, excuse if this isn’t in chronological order.  - Her mom get’s sick, which is terrifying for both fo the summers girls  - Just as they think she’s going to be okay, she dies. It could be argued this was more traumatic for Buffy since she found her and yeah, I’ll give you that, and Buffy had to step up and become caretaker to Dawn. She was now sister and guardian.  - Their dad is still absentee. She’s grieving her mothers death and likely wants to grieve with her sister who’s saving the world all the time. Probably feels incredibly alone, feels like a burden on Buffy and the scoobies, and to be fair, she’s probably been made to feel like this a fair few times.  - and THEN she finds out she’s not real. Can you imagine how traumatic and difficult that is for a child to wrap their head around? Because yeah, 14 is still a frigging kid.  - so if anybody wants to argue about her reaction to that... i will fight you. (i’m kidding I swear xDDD)  - A god wants to kill her.  - BUFFY DIES TO SAVE HER LIFE.  - Her sister sacrifices herself for her, she’s lost the only family she had left but constantly has to see her sisters face around and hear her voice with buffy bot but it’s not HER. Still, her grief stares her in the face everyday. The scoobies step up and they are like family and she loves and appreciates them but it’s not the same.  - and HAH not like GILES sticks around to help. He’d have just sacrified her and I’m sorry but Giles was a monumental figure in BOTH of the summers girls. Granted, they were never going to be like Buffy and him, but still, he watched Dawn grow up and was the only male authority figure in her life, because you can bet Dawn saw ALOT of him. You’d think he’d care a little more. Not to mention he’s almost a direct link to Buffy, a little care from Giles would have gone a long way. Instead he left Willow and Tara and Xander who are barely adults themselves to take care of her and goes to England.  S6&7:  - again sketchy timeline wise  - Buffy comes back and Dawn DOES care, she does want to help her and be there for her and love her and Buffy doesn’t want / can’t deal with that, which is absolutely 1000% understanable but equally, as time goes on, Dawn is still living with that guilt and her sister is there but she’s not.  - She almost loses her sister again to the black hole she’s sunk into, or at-least that’s what it feels like.  - they deal with things differently. Buffy Internalises, Dawn externalises.  - Not only does she have survivors guilt, she thinks her sister resents her, resents the choice she made. She wants to be there, she wants to help, she loves her sister but she’s extremely conscious of this. Buffy sacrificed herself for Dawn and she worries her sister refrets that and perhaps even resents her for it, for having to make that decision.  - In a lot of ways, I promise you that’s exactly how Dawn feels about herself, because she got her sister killed? everyone around her dies.  - Willow goes all evil and almost gets her killed until Buffy saves her.  - Later, she walks in on Tara’s body. Tara was a surrogate mother and sister figure and Dawn adored her so much. That relationship was incredibly precious to Dawn.  - The feeling like buffy resents her? directly correlates with what the first says to her. Buffy won’t be there when she needs her. and she’s not entirely wrong about that feeling. Buffy says to Giles if she had to do it again, she’d sacrifice Dawn.  So yes, Dawn wants Buffy’s attention? Does she externalise how she feels sometimes into anger? and generally being upset which most people describe as her being a ‘brat’ - que eyeroll here - Dawn isn’t a brat, she’s reacting to circumstances that for the one thousandth time, are beyond her control. Even Xander acknowledges that it’s tough just being normal but acknowledges she’s extroardinary. Any kind of acknowledgement along such lines from Buffy, would have gone a long way to solving a lot of problems. Nobody can say Dawn didn’t communicate, and sure, it was over the top sometimes, but she’s learnt that if she isn’t, nobody cares.  She is constantly treated as a child and brushed off throughout the entire 3 seasons she’s in, you can’t then call her out on acting like it. - le shrug. -  Also, Dawn telling Buffy to leave in S7 is a joke and in my opinion, out of character for her. She threatened SPIKE, you really think she’s going to send her sister off to god knows where when she just got her back and there’s a big evil out there? PUH-LEASE. Dawn would have fought for Buffy and in my portrayal she does. 

ANYWAY, THANKS FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK. I am sorry in advance if this comes off ranty- this isn’t hate on anyone (WELL, maybe a little giles...), ESPECIALLY Buffy. I stan Buffy, none of this is her fault either, it’s all circumstances and dealing with things differently. 

[revcntulet]

❝ The more I read, the more I acquire, the more certain I am that I know nothing. ❞  SCORPIUS MALFOY looks a lot like that muggle, FROY GUTIERREZ, right? Only 20 years old, that SLYTHERIN alumnus works as a HEALING APPRENTICE and is sided with the ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. HE identifies as a CIS MAN and is a PUREBLOOD.

CHARACTER PARALLELS: Amy Santiago (B99), Claire Temple (Daredevil), Chidi Anagonye (The Good Place), Giles (Buffy TVS), Michelle Jones (Spiderman: Homecoming), Elizabeth Swan (PoTC), Spock (Star Trek), Clarke Griffin (The 100), Harley Keener (MCU), Gregory House (House) suggested honorable mention Gizmo (Gremlins)

Full Name: Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy Gender/Pronouns: Cis man | he/him Age: Twenty Birthdate: January 20th Parents: Draco Malfoy & Astoria Malfoy (née Greengrass) Siblings: N/A. Birth place: St. Mungo’s Hospital, England Height: 5’11” Weight: 56 kg Sexual/Romantic Orientation: Demiromantic Bisexual Nationality: British Body Alterations/Marks: A ragged diamond shape scar at the base of his throat.

Blood Status: Pureblood Hogwarts House: Slytherin Wand Arm: Right Pet: A crested toad named Jarvis. Patronus: Arctic Fox Wand: 11 2/3 inches, Willow, Supple, Dragon Heartstring.

Willow is an uncommon wand wood with healing power, and I have noted that the ideal owner for a willow wand often has some (usually unwarranted) insecurity, however well they may try and hide it. While many confident customers insist on trying a willow wand (attracted by their handsome appearance and well-founded reputation for enabling advanced, non-verbal magic) my willow wands have consistently selected those of greatest potential, rather than those who feel they have little to learn. It has always been a proverb in my family that he who has furthest to travel will go fastest with willow.

Personality Traits: Brilliance, innovation, empathetic, individuality, openness, social consciousness, inventiveness, logical, practical skill and self assertion; lack of attachment to people and the “real world,” over-intellectualizing of the emotions, dismissiveness, anxious, crotchety tempered, facetiousness, rigidity, prone to self-isolation, intellectual arrogance, and stubbornness. Zodiac Sign: Aquarius/Capricorn Cusp Moral Alignment: Neutral Good Core values: Loyalty, Knowledge, Hope Four temperaments: Melancholic  

HOGWARTS HOUSE BREAKDOWN

Slytherin Primary and a Burned Ravenclaw Secondary.

Slytherin Primaries prioritize their own selves and loved ones first. Slytherins don’t feel guilty or selfish about this– they feel righteous and moral. The most important thing is to look after your own. Abandoning or hurting one of your own is the worst thing you can do.

A Burned Ravenclaw Secondary might want to be skilled, curious, and prepared, but they feel like they are (or like people think they are) limited, clumsy, or inconstant. Gathering knowledge, hobbies, skills, or tools is the right way to achieve their goals, but Burned Ravenclaws know that’s not going to work within their capabilities. So they take other paths and use other tools– maybe a Gryffindor’s bluntness, a Slytherin’s flexibility, or a Hufflepuff’s slow and steady dedication.

You may have a Hufflepuff Secondary Model.

Hufflepuff is the House of grit, reliability, and determination, and Hufflepuffs use those values to help live, act, and succeed. If you model Hufflepuff Secondary, you also value these things and like to live by them. You like to be hardworking, dedicated, and consistent– but you wouldn’t feel guilty for abandoning those values in the service of other, higher priorities. If there’s another, easier way to get what you want– you’d take it. You think hard work provides valuable rewards– and those rewards are why you work. The work doesn’t have persuasive value in itself.

9. The Expositor will have to destroy the one who they love. There is no other way. It cannot be avoided. Their fate – possibly even the entire world’s fate – depends on it.

39. You are in the Order, and as a spell inventor, you played a key role in helping the Knights mutate the Patronus Charm to create daemons. Because of this, you have a daemon of your own, and you have been experimenting with the limitations of the magic, trying to figure out if there are any ways to improve them.

Code Name Revontulet, which literally translates to “fox fire.” Legend says that an arctic fox dashed across the tundra swiping snow up into the sky, while others claim his bushy tail caused sparks when brushing the peaks of tall mountains to create the Aurora Borealis.

Despite his very best resistance he’s always been pretty empathetic in nature, he tries to rule his emotions as well as he can but fails more often than not. He was always one of those toddlers that if another kid started crying he’d be right along with them, not because he wanted attention but because he just couldn’t not. A bit of a crybaby, honestly, has researched how to magically seal up his tear ducts. Obviously managed to keep the family’s flair for the dramatic there as well.

Just managed to scrape through his schooling with nearly all top grades, this isn’t due to him being an excellent student. He has always accrued information with a voracious appetite. Any knowledge he could find, even if most people would consider it entirely useless. His mind clicks into that place? You can’t keep him away. However, when there is not an immediate stir of interest on his approach to a topic he has to fight with himself tooth and nail to carry on. Predictably found exam season highly stressful, was never open about it but was quietly competitive and silently smug over his good grades. Could comprehend well above his reading level from an early age and would often look into experimental research and complicated magic but found himself lost in OWL level History of Magic when chapter upon chapter lay ahead of him about something that didn’t catch his interest.

Tends toward introversion and finds himself tired sometimes quite easily by a large amount of social interaction. Witty and big-mouthed when he feels comfortable or is in the presence of those that embolden him and very likely to get flustered and snap at people when things are becoming a bit too much. Especially if he feels however unjustly that someone is blocking his escape. Has matured slightly in this since leaving school but it happens still, he’s just anxious. Quite fickle and can at the drop of a hat decide that he’s done with you for the day once his Give Me Attention Meter is maxed. Could be an absolute bloody brat when he felt like it but feels he has grown out of it, which he mostly has.

Always been very, very aware of many people’s distrust of him and his family, he used to sneer and play it up if anyone tried to bring up his dad and go on the offensive but was genuinely affected quite deeply by it all. In his early school years, despite his weakness to the cold, he constantly had his sleeves rolled up to the elbow so that his blank forearm was bared as a statement to just about everyone. I am not marked, I never will be. Now he’s older he has more of a handle on things and can be diplomatic in situations where people are clearly discomforted by his presence and his family history.

Scorpius was in his seventh and final year when the Knights were first created and he spent a lot of his time patching people up and teaching simple healing here and there, wherever he could. It was a natural transition to become part of The Order once he graduated, he still kept in contact with members of the Knights but while he had no way to access the grounds at all it seemed ridiculous that he be privy to everything, especially as sharing such information could have been intercepted by the opposing side. He was absolutely horrified by Harry’s resurrection and his stomach rolls every time he even thinks about it.

Never produced much of a talent for offensive magic and wouldn’t resort to those methods unless he had literally no other choice, not a front line fighter by any means. His talents with strategy, healing and his perseverance with defensive magic meant that he was an ideal candidate, in his head, to have the singular daemon amongst the Order and to test all of their hard work. Then the prophecy was slowly unravelled, silver spool of damning words in a pile at his feet.

Is in a strange place in that he can’t simply stop loving people he’s always loved whilst working simultaneously to strangle any potential for more people to be added to the list as frantically as he can. Tends to just try and put the prophecy out of his mind otherwise he stares at Cleo for too long and his hands start to shake.

Very nearly lost his apprenticeship due to his intensity over developing and refining the magic of the patronus charm. It was an all-consuming obsession, he went so far into the zone that he was a bit of a liability for a while there. He would turn up at any hour to other Order members for their opinions on an obscure theory, an element of the magic, the importance of ritual and their thoughts on his experiments with dementors. Alot of people were like you’re a bit young to be doing this aren’t you love? And he was like I’m not going to tell you to fuck off, just explain that I will not let this go and if you exclude me I will continue working on it alone.

[ DEATH TW ] Although this can be said for anyone possessing a daemon, he is protective of Cleo to the point of neurosis, the magic was experimental at the time of her manifestation and he felt every single layer of his soul flayed away and the creation of atoms from a matter that he still doesn’t quite understand. Only that it came from him. They have managed to limit the bitter, burnt iron taste that lingered at the back of his sinuses for two weeks, the numbness of his fingers and toes and the burst blood vessels in his eyes on other subjects. Oh and the part where he stopped breathing for nearly an entire minute. By the time he performed it successfully he wasn’t sure he wanted anyone else to ever experience it, the spell basically consumed his life for several years and when the research was finally over he was stood there blinking owlishly with no real concept of where the last couple of years had gone.

Always had somewhat fragile health tending toward sickly. Hands are never warm. Bruises like a peach and scars so easily.

Views quidditch as a good fly spoiled.  

Is a very skilled pianist.

Has a fabric sling that he wears across his torso that Cleo is often curled up in. Looks like a single dad at Order meetings, toad on his shoulder.

While very eloquent and well spoken, he is markedly less posh than when he first arrived at Hogwarts.

When he isn’t prone to bouts of insomnia he can take a nap pretty much anywhere. He was once found in a tree after several frantic hours search.

the stillness of the world the moment you take the first step into fresh snow, cashmere and fine wool, the pearlescence of dreamless sleep draught, the scratch of a quill on parchment, faintly tremoring fingers, a shiver up your spine in a warm room, the exhilaration of a problem solved, a thunderous grey overcast sky, the bite of a stitching charm, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, petrichor, the burn in your eyes before a well of tears.

[we-pay-for-everything]

Hi, I'm another quarantined anon, and I can't tell you how touched I am that your response is always "how can I do even more?" If you feel like it, I would love to see your picks for your top 10 favorite BTVS episodes and what you love most about each. And if you feel like being snarky, your 5-10 least favorite BTVS episodes and why you dislike them. THANK YOU!!!

Hi! I’m quarantined too! Were you really touched?

Favorite BtVS Episodes

Amends: You asked what I love most about each of my favorite episodes so I’ll just say about this one that I love Angel’s story and the closure it offered Buffy and Angel. Amends was all about closure, for all characters, but it was a a huge turning point for Angel and Buffy especially. It allowed them to process their emotions and thoughts about their past and to take a step forward towards healing from them (individually and as a couple). It was a cathartic episode that didn’t shy away from the cold truth of Angel and Buffy’s, or anyone’s, reality, but had a hopeful message nonetheless. 

Innocence: This episode is just really powerful: Angelus’s reveal, his fight with Buffy in the rain (!), that colossal plot twist that leaves everyone a bit breathless even after multiple rewatches… Innocence is that emotional, intense, thrilling episode that always gives you chills. 

Becoming: I don’t care if Becoming and GD are two different episodes, it’s not fair to rate them separately! Becoming is just... Becoming haha. Do I have to explain its awesomeness? Angelus and Buffy’s fight, “Me.”, Buffy and Angel!!! etc. You know why it’s great, don’t you?Let’s move on!

Graduation Day: I love part 2 more than part 1, which is an unpopular opinion, I’ve heard. I like Buffy and Faith’s fight, but I love the bite scene, Buffy’s goodbye to Faith, Angel and Buffy’s parting, the battle, that final scene with all the characters, etc. the most. Those are my favorite scenes. The nostalgia factor is big in this finale. 

I Only Have Eyes For You: Every Bangel fan knows what it is like to love this episode more than everyone else! The episode is obviously beautiful because of its message of forgiveness and compassion, but what is really special about it, to me, is the sense of closure we derive from it. Buffy and Giles experience it, but we feel it the most. It’s like we get Angel, who we miss so much, back for awhile, and we know everything will be okay. We say goodbye to him and Buffy. Also, the plot device used to achieve this emotional cleansing is quite original and was executed well. (Angelus’s bare chest doesn’t hurt either hehe.)

The Body: I don’t know what to say about this one. I love it for the same reasons everyone else does. It’s an amazing episode. 

The Zeppo: This really is a personal favorite. It’s just hilarious. And I love the growth we see in Xander. It’s really interesting to see Xander’s side of things. I love that the episode is so funny and true to Xander’s role in the series, but it’s also surprisingly emotional and well-rounded - exactly like Xander!

When She Was Bad: Such an underrated episode! The soundtrack alone is amazing. I love the change in tone from season 1 and how it hints at what’s to come. Sassy, mean girl Buffy is as sad as she is funny. 

Selfless: I’ve always loved this episode. I like the way it was directed, I like Anya the best in this episode. I really like that moment when it cuts from Anya and Xander’s song to Buffy running her sword through Anya and pinning her to the wall. It’s so poignant. 

Pangs: This episode is super funny and that’s why I like it. It’s also a surprisingly “woke” episode that is as insensitive and offensive as it is progressive. Go figure. (Also, Angel returns!)

Honorable mentions: Witch, Living Conditions, Anne, Forever, The Prom, Angel, Surprise, Villains, What’s My Line. 

I was trying to answer this quickly for you, but it actually took a long time! Even figuring out my top 10 favorite episodes was hard haha. I tried to keep the list interesting, but the last episode could’ve been Angel, Surprise, Witch...

Least Favorite Episodes:  

Fool for Love: Watching Spike kill a teenage girl and a young mother (both women of color) in what is supposed to be a “cool” way, and having him hit on Buffy with that “philosophical” story about slayers and death is so fucking disgusting that I don’t know how people love this episode so much. Spike saying all slayers “want to die” is the equivalent of justifying rape by saying some women are “asking for it”. Beyond disgusting.

Almost every season 7 episodes in which we are supposed to pity Spike, or in which he and Buffy have a “moment”.

Almost every season 6 episodes in which Spike and Buffy have scenes together. Ew.

That was already more than 5 episodes!

Halloween: Read here.

Thanks for the ask!