Hello seasonal spuffers. My posting day today and so I begin with the drabbles. A handful of hundred worders for your enjoyment. But let me first thank the fabulous slaymesoftly for getting her red pen out and doing a last minute grammer check on this for me. Cheers my dears.
First a drabble inspired by elisi‘s always interesting musings on B/S and B/A
Fool’s Gold
He’d been right “No you don’t but thanks…”
But she’d needed words he’d understand and there hadn’t been time to say it all. “I trust you. I want-need-despise you.”
No time, with the world all but ending, to explain what worth she had found in understanding and being utterly understood. “That’s not why I need you here.”
Three trite words, in place of the thousand actions needed to expound the “I can’t stand you. Never leave me” in her heart.
But she knew then and she knows now that love is fool’s gold, and what they’d had was truly precious.
Showing off
She knows he’s watching her. She spins and kicks and back-flips around her graveyard theatre and enjoys the secret adulation of her audience.
When she’s finished off these demons, she should send him away but she’ll probably just strike a little pose and toss her glossy hair.
She ducks her head as she kicks in a move that pulls her leather pants tight over her backside and the thought of him appreciating the sight gives her a thrill.
There’s nothing to it, she’s not trying to seduce him, she’s just a little vain some nights and can’t help showing off.
Pavlov’s Buff
“Night Pet.” Her eyes track his leaving.
“Buffy!” Willow smirks. “Little drool.”
She glares a moment, then sighs. Caught. “Who was that guy? The one who taught dogs to ring bells when they ate? ”
“Pavlov? But he rang the bell to-”
“Whatever. That’s me: Pavlov’s Buffy. Spike calls me ‘pet’; I dribble”
“Poor Buffy’s conditioned responses”
“Willow you know science; fix me”
“You can stop the dog reacting to the bell Buffy, but you can’t stop it wanting the food”
“My analogies; always gross.”
“Buffy.”
“Yeah?”
“Go eat.”
A moment’s indecision then she grins. “Well I am kinda peckish.”
Her right
She tests him even years of love and trust later. Lays her hands weakly on his chest: “Stop”
His compliance is always instant. A second later he is across the room, stricken and trembling with regret.
She doesn’t reproach herself – though she never fails to follow him then, with love and gentle comfort – for this is her right.
The right she earned with his betrayal, to make him mindful. To put aside her power and with a whisper to command him, “No”
“Sorry. God, Buf..”
“Hush.”
And when she is satisfied, she lets him love her and tries to kiss away his tears.
Vegas Dreaming
“Giles. I had a dream”
“A slayer dream?” He lifts his gaze from the accounts in front of him and frowns worriedly.
“I dreamt Spike was alive.” Her voice hitches and she takes a second to swallow back the pain. “I need to find him.”
“My dear,” He’s all sympathy and patience “Not all your dreams are prophetic, please don’t raise your hopes”
“Giles!” She gives him an incredulous eye roll and kicks a box of notepads for emphasis.
The phone rings and she crosses her arms pointedly as he answers it. “Vegas Office Supplies. How can I help you?”
Hope you enjoy them and just so you know I’m not adverse to a bit of feedback. Go on you know you want too
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/152458.html
