db creates chaos on a daily basis

Three Deep episode 7

db2305 — Wed, 20 Jan 2016 19:13:06 GMT

I don't know if there are many people of the Buffy fandom out there anymore - but anyway I wanted to let you know that episode 7 Goodbye Girl of the Three Deep webseason is up on AO3.
This last episode was finished by Sylvia Volk and dutchbuffy2305, building on a draft by all the women of Tea at the Ford.

Enjoy!

Happy Holidays

db2305 — Tue, 25 Dec 2007 21:43:10 GMT

</span>Merry Christmas

or whatever festivity you celebrate

to the best flist in the world!

My inner European is ...

db2305 — Mon, 03 Dec 2007 13:32:19 GMT

No cheating. I swear!

Your Inner European is Dutch!

Open minded and tolerant.

You're up for just about anything.

Who's Your Inner European?

Support the writers!

db2305 — Sun, 18 Nov 2007 09:41:24 GMT

Hey guys,

some of you are novelists, some of you are fan writers, some of you are fans - but everyone is supporting the Hollywood writers, right?

Right?

Show it! Send a pencil to the Hollowood Moguls who are refusing fair pay.

http://unitedhollywood.blogspot.com/2007/11/pencils2mediamoguls.html

Update of me

db2305 — Tue, 06 Mar 2007 16:58:43 GMT

I've been such a dull blogger lately...day after day of telepathy-only posts, that don't even show up on telepathy-challenged LJ...

Butfrankly, doing the dayjob, doing the Mom thing, and being an aspiringwriter is fracking hard work. I tend to be pretty damn grateful when I get my 1500 words on the current first draft in progress done, do myweekly crits here and my new critique buddy's stuff there...You tiredof reading this yet? I don't blame you! And I'm not even thinking about fanfic. Sorry....

I'm happy with my newcritique buddy's advice about novel One. She likes it! I'm itching tostart sending it out to the agents again in its new, spiffy form, but it's gonna need another pass with her helpful remarks.

I'm currently unhappy about my sinus headache, that is threatenign to develop in a full blown cold.
I'm happy about current WIP. I get to look up lots of things about frogs and papyrus. What's not to like?
I'm happy about how my first machine knitting project came out. I'm now wearing the still buttonless but very cool fluorescent chartreuse cardigan I knitted. Yay to the cheap alpaca off Ebay. A find!

And I'm happy with my new icon. To quote the famous Flemish poet:

ASTA NIELSEN
ASTA
astra
ster
koningin Onze Lieve Vrouw
Onze Lieve Vrouw van Denemarken
dragen wij u onder baldakijnen

brede HOSTIE

Gij

Happy Birthday

db2305 — Wed, 31 Jan 2007 15:07:33 GMT

Congrats to married_n_mich!

I hope you keep on writing for many years yet...or spend them otherwise, of course!

More 50 book challenge 2006

db2305 — Wed, 31 Jan 2007 09:40:08 GMT

I'll get there yet, and before it's 2007 too. I promise. I'm using fallow moments at work ( increasingly many) to write these, so it's not an empty promise!

45, 44, 43 His Majesty's Dragon (Téméraire trilogy), by Naomi Novik
Master & Commander with Dragons. A wonderful idea, to have dragons aiding England in its struggle with Napoleon. A young ltnt. Is forced to take service in the Airforce avant la lettre. The dragon is a character all on its own, with strong emancipatory leanings, and an almost romantic attachment to the hero. I almost stopped reading this when I encountered bad POV on the first page, but it's worth going on. To my less than informed ear, the historicized language sounded pretty good. Think Georgette Heyer. A bit too much battle description for my taste, but that's easily skipped and some ppl might actually like lots of battles. Good worldbuilding, not brilliant on a sentence level but extremely enjoyable. Peter Jackson picked up the movie rights and I will certainly be buying part 4.

42 Cloud Atlas, by David Mitchell
Fits in no known category. Somewhere between literary and sf, but never self-indulgent or inaccessible. The book starts four centuries ago and hops to a new story halfway through, and then again, and then again…but don't let that stop you. I flew through it and it just blew me away. I loved the voice in the composer bit (ca. 1930) most of all. The virtuosity with which he uses a young Oxbridge voice with continuous music riffs is amazing. Go read and be astounded. I can't summarize or critique this book in any way, it's so much beyond my usual scope, but I loved it a lot. Will buy all his books.

41, 40, 39 Deeds of Paksenarrion, by Elizabeth Moon
Fantasy setting coming of age novel. The protagonist is a simple farm girl who becomes a soldier and then something beyond that. The POV is so deep that I had a hard time the first few chapters, because she's not very intelligent or imaginative. The only thing that is well developed is her moral sense, which is the center of the story. I'm more the opposite, myself, but that didn't keep my from enjoying this a lot. Very well done, from real soldiering experience, and the reader is very slowly drawn into Paksenarrion's growing and changing, and I became very committed to this work, to my surprise. Not the usual fantasy thing, but definitely recced.

38 Blood & Iron, by Elizabeth Bear, fantasy
Blood and Iron is the story of a secret war being fought under our noses. On the one side are the forces of the Sidhe, the fairies of British and Celtic mythology. These are creatures of glamour and illusion who steal away mortals to use as sport and entertainment. Ranged against the Sidhe are the humans of the Prometheus Club - a secret society of magicians who guard our world against incursions by the fey. They use the strength and magic of iron to keep the enemies of humanity at bay. The "war" has recently escalated with the appearance of a Merlin, a person who acts as a source of magic power. Both sides of the war are seeking to identify and court the Merlin, hoping to bring that strength to their side. (I stole the summary from someone else, I forget who).
Liked this one lots. There is an abundance of pain and suffering and hard choices, and those don't get smoothed over. It's stuffed chockfull of Arthuriana and Fairy lore, and none of it gets explained in short words. You will find it hard to understand if you're not already an avid reader of the stuff. My husband found most of the allusions incomprehensible, frex. But of course there are quibbles. The POVs weren't all that deep; what makes these people tick is implied with the vaguest of penstrokes only. The plot takes up too much room for any depth of characterization. I felt the book should have been longer to incorporate it. The lead is a changeling woman named Seeker; we never get a good look inside her head. First because she's bound by too many geas to have any thoughts, then because she's too busy with the plot. A minor character, the kelpie Whiskey, is actually the most detailed. A good thing the sequel seems to be about him. Most of the characters are a bit Mary Sue-ish – they all seem a bit too heroic and interesting and good-looking.
In spite of these flaws I loved the book. Beautiful language, interesting ideas, great use of old themes.
ETA: Interesting discussion here. I agreed with most of it, but still!

37, 36, 35 Hammered, Scardown and Worldwired, by Elizabeth Bear, science fiction.
Interesting books. I like the first one best. We meet Jenny, the lead, a fiftyish scarred Canadian veteran. A whole lot of stuff starts happening, politics, global warming/cooling, war with the Chinese, starships and the navigation of such. Jenny gets patched up, finds her old love back and is a hero.
Apart from the politics, which aren't my thing, the first book is a gripping tale with lots of twists and turns. The second book goes on strongly, but the third book bogs down in its own lack of structure and action.
Jenny is a terrible Mary Sue, though. Everybody loves her and lays his life on the line for her, the man she loves apparently loved her all along, she gets reinstated and is even the only human being fit to steer a starship!
My second quibble is there are too many plots in there, and characters get involved and get POVS, and we didn’t really need any of them. The whole Razorface thing? Fine, fun, but why in this book?
Third quibble: most of the action and the really big happenings takes place off-screen, like alien spaceships arriving, or get a line or two, like when the Chinese bomb Ottawa. (Yes, really…) Sure, that's true in real life for real people too, but why not pick protagonists who're closer, then? The second book has a big shootout which is pretty cool, but the third book is all talking heads until about 70 % through, hopping around in much too many heads for me to recount. Couldn’t find a good reason to have those scientists talk to me either.
I'd wish her POV was deeper. Even Jenny, in first person, doesn’t really show who and what she is. Or maybe it lacks visuals, I don’t know why I feel that way.
I enjoyed reading the books, although I doubt I'll ever reread them, and I will buy her next sf book Carnival. There's something intangible in her books, ideas maybe, that I like.

What I did this weekend

db2305 — Tue, 30 Jan 2007 19:26:48 GMT

This weekend, dear flist, I finally got of my butt and did something other than write! Does that get me any cheers?

After a sumptuous dinner ( I doubt that all that foie gras did my cholesterol count any good, but it was the kind of food that was art...) I went to see this exhibition at the Musée d'Arts Modernes in Brussel. I have to admit I'd never heard of Leon Spilliaert before, but I loved his early works. Weird, distorted ink and crayon drawing, reminiscent of Munch, Jan Toorop but also, surprisingly, Chas Addams...

Maybe you can see what I mean when I put in Spillaert self portraits and Gomez Addams side by side?

and

The Writer's progress

db2305 — Sat, 13 Jan 2007 16:21:16 GMT

My eyes are crossing from rereading my own manuscript yet again. Revising is really hard, especially when it's the eighth big revision. I've steeled myself to cut out another 10,000 words from the beginning, and I don't regret them, but it's the micro revisions that are kicking my butt.

I should be weighing each sentence for its own merit and making it better, or the same thing at a paragraph level, but when you've read it this often your own words are almost invisible to...

I think I'm going to try printing them out and doing it in front of the TV. Maybe I'll feel less bored and antsy that way. Grrrr.

Pages revised: 100
Pages remaining: 56

Birthdays!

db2305 — Fri, 12 Jan 2007 19:53:41 GMT

Bonne Anniversaire, Caroline!

(jamalov29)

Short Story Angst

db2305 — Sun, 07 Jan 2007 18:35:37 GMT

I'm writing a short story at the moment, feeling my way into the plot, and it occurred to me that I haven't done anything like that in ever.

When you write fanfiction - and don't get me wrong, I love doing that, and I read and wrote lots of it at a time when it was exactly what I needed. When you write fanfiction like I did/do, there's always just one ending you write towards. In my case, getting character B to love character S. Or at least a fraction of an inch closer to it. All my stories, whether long or short, were a version of this theme, or a deliberate reversal of it, or they wrote about a world where it was impossible that B get S because one of them was dead.
I chose that limitation because that romantic them was what got me writing again, and it never felt it like a limitation.
In my novels, romance has so far been a very respectable B-plotline. But with this embryonic short story, there doesn't need to be any romance at all. And it feels funny. Help! Where are the limitations? Suddenly I have all the choices in the world and all I'm doing is falling on my knees on this enormous plain so as not to get dizzy from the horizons that stretch all around me, covering my eyes and screaming for help…

Tiredness

db2305 — Wed, 03 Jan 2007 19:09:08 GMT

The morning shopping with fashion-conscious eldest son just about killed me. We bought good and cheap stuff, but it took four hours plus two hours driving back and forth...Never again. Or not before the January 2008 sales, anyway.

And on todays Three Deep efforts: I hadn't realized I would have to do a complete rewrite. Hmph.
And not even one word of the novel written, and I'm so close! This is the one to last scene, I think. Won't it be nice to have it done? I'm going to goof off for a month (barring revising SWW, and Three Deep, and maybe a short story. Oh, and outlining the next novel. But that's fun stuff, really!)

I wanted to give you picspam of the whole family on ice, but you'll have to wait until I can manage to grab them off the hubby's computer. It's not giving me access right now.

*waves to flist*

Summing up 2006 in words written and edited

db2305 — Wed, 03 Jan 2007 14:51:12 GMT

Words written in 2006:
Golden Wolf: 70,000
Brave New World: 135,000
Three Deep: 30,000
Other fanfic: 30,000
synopses, worldbuilding, outlines, queries: 10,000?
total: 270,000

Words revised in 2007:

Single White Werewolf: 120,000 x 5 = 600,000
Three Deep: 3 x 5 x 10,000 = 150,000

Words critted in 2007:

Sylvia Volk: 180,000
OWW: 10,000
Three Deep: 3 x 5 x 25,000 = 375,000

Submissions: 12 (too few! Bad db)
Requests: 3

Agents: Nil
Sales: Nil

Happy New Year!

db2305 — Sun, 31 Dec 2006 23:27:06 GMT

Happy New Year to all of you!

Christmas Fic: Dead Man's Chest, 3/3, The Final Part

db2305 — Sat, 30 Dec 2006 18:27:07 GMT

Dead Man's Chest (3/3), by dutchbuffy2305
Story note: This takes place in the Spuffy Christmas Universe, like my other Christmas stories "Spiking the Christmas Punch", "Wolf, Reindeer & Heart", "Merry Christmas, Mr. Bloody" and "Hot Springs Eternal".
Rating: R-ish
Author's note: Made for the 2006 Gurnenthat's Ascension challenge at Tea At The Ford
Betaed by: the lovely kassto and gillo, lj-pals in need!

Feedback: *pants, tongue out*

"How much of a time differential in the Gurnenthar dimension? I won't know until I try," Theo said.
His freckles stood out, livid against a pale face.
"Are you going in alone?" Riley said. He tightened his hold on the gun. Brave kid.
"God no," Theo said. "I'm no warrior. Let me think!" He pulled at his hair until it stood out in a wide Afro. "Yes! Okay! I got it!"
He threw himself at a wall and scrabbled at a plug. "Knife, knife," he mumbled, feeling distractedly around in the many pockets of his jeans. Riley couldn't stand it anymore and got out his Army knife.
"What do you want?"
"I need the cord. They probably have a nice thick old-fashioned copper wire in there. I'm thinking you go in there and I hold you in the normal time-stream via the cord."
"Jesus. You think that'll work?"
"It'd better work," Theo said. "You could be dust in seconds. On our side, that is. On your side, you'd live a long boring life or get killed quickly. I mean. I have no way of knowing."
Suddenly it was much less fun to be the warrior in the bunch, the guy the others looked up to.
Together they wrenched the socket from the wall and the power cord came loose easily, taking several layers of wallpaper with it. They hauled up yards and yards and yards of cord. Riley stripped the wire and handed a shiny copper length to Theo.
"Okay. Let's do it," he nodded.
Dawn's eyes were huge. Riley hugged her tight and Dawn kissed him back hard.
"I'll kill you if you don't come back!" she said, her voice high and strange.
"Promise. Nothing so humiliating as being killed by your girlfriend," Riley said.
Theo bound the copper wire onto Riley's wrist. Riley climbed onto the edge of the chest and dangled his legs inside.
"I love you, Dawnie!" He let go.
He landed hard on his tailbone. Next to the chest. Dawn and Theo stared back at him goggle-eyed.
#
Riley jumped up. "What happened? Did time pass so fast I can't even remember being in there?"
"You never went in. You bounced back, kind of," Dawn said. "Theo, do you have any idea what's going on?"
Theo pulled at his hair. "The portal must be closed. There's no way to get into a closed dimension without a witch."
"It's early morning in England," Dawn said hopefully. " We should call Willow."
"Why don't you open it, Auntie Dawn? Maybe it's susceptible to your key powers."
Dawn could have slapped him. "Who told you that old story? That's long gone. I'm no key anymore."
"What's that about a key?"
"Never mind, Riley, it all happened just after you went off to Yucatan in a snit. I was the embodiment of the key, placed near Buffy so she could protect me, yadda yadda yadda, this goddess wanted to sacrifice me to open up her home dimension. Long time ago. But the key powers went away."
"Far be it from me to cause a temporal paradox or cognitive dissonance," Theo said virtuously, "but why don’t you just try?"
"Hey!" Riley said. "Why did nobody ever tell me about all this? What do you mean - placed near Buffy?"
"Riley, not now," Theo and Dawn said simultaneously.
Dawn took one step closer to the chest and looked in again. It still resembled the eye of a hurricane.
"So what do you think I should do, Theo? Stick my hand in and yell open sesame?"
"Whatever works for you, Auntie," he said.
That wasn't very helpful.
"Get over here, baby," she said to Riley. "I want you close to me when I do my thing, if I in fact have a thing."
Riley didn’t look happy. Was it just because of Spike and Buffy being dead for a gazillion years already, or because he wasn’t the hero right this second, or because she might have a thing? Except being extremely bossy, which she was very sure he had liked up until now, hadn’t he?
Dawn lowered her hand slowly. Halfway down, a big warm hand closed on the one she had stuck behind her back for balance, and that made things fractionally better. There was no tingle, or magical knowledge springing full-grown into her head. It felt like wiggling her pinky in a batch of Jell-O, actually. Before she could even think of trying something cool and nifty, the sensation stopped and she almost overbalanced. Nothing she did, apparently, just something she was.
"It's open," she said, stepping back quickly and cannoning into the wide, reassuring person behind her.
"Now we do our thing?" Riley said.
He didn’t sound eager, and she couldn't blame him.
This time he didn’t say goodbye or look back. He just swung his legs over the chest's rim and was gone. Theo paid out the copper line with a look of utter concentration, and she didn't dare ask what was going on.
#
Riley landed lightly on a sunlit hillside. He spread his hands out wide and shifted his weight to his right foot. Okay. No bad guys in sight. The copper wire on his wrist went straight up into the sky, held taut by something not of this dimension. He circled slowly, gun in hand, keeping the copper wire behind so it wouldn't tangle. The world felt peaceful and incredibly quiet. Not a sigh of wind or tinkle of birdsong anywhere. Just silence, green grass, and a little higher up a grown-out hazel coppice, on the only hill and the only grass in sight. The rest of the world seemed to be flat, marshy stretches of blue growth with lots of water. No gurnenthars anywhere. He'd imagined a darkling world with blood-red skies and pink-skinned orphans crying disconsolately. Or gurnenthars spawning great gobbets of yuck in his face. This was almost nice.
His eyes slid past the stand of trees again. Was that a cross there? And those white branches sticking out of the grass? Oh God. He did not want to tell Dawn about this, not at all. Or Theo, of course, although Theo seemed to have the psyche of a rubber ball, all surface and bounce.
Oh God. It was a makeshift cross, or had been, because the crossbeam was sagging at a sharp angle instead of a square one. The white branch poking up was an upper arm bone. Which was odd. So it was Spike in the grave, and Buffy who'd died on top of it? Because a dead Spike fell to dust. He hesitated on his knees beside the grave, uncertain if he should dig it up, or take it as evidence, or leave them to their eternal rest.
A tug on the copper wire nearly unbalanced him and he grabbed hastily at the cross and the bone. He tugged three times in return. How would he get back? He stuffed the evidence in his inside pocket, pulled down his sweater over his hands and climbed hand over hand up the copper wire. It wasn’t easy — a good thing Dawn hadn’t come along. A few feet up, something grabbed him with jelly hands and whirled him back into his own world, where he hit the rim of the chest with a sickening thud straight in his midriff. Yowf.
He climbed out and gritted his teeth. "Dawn. Theo. I have bad news."
Dawn's hand went to her mouth. He felt he couldn't hug her, not when Theo was there, who was closer to the deceased. Deceaseds.
"I found a grave. Unmarked, but it was within the only green growth on the entire world, so I feel quite sure that this is from Buffy."
He showed them the cross and the arm bone. Dawn inhaled in deep, sobbing breaths and Theo went whiter.
"No, no, Riley, it can't be true. It can't be them!"
Theo grabbed the bone and held it against his own upper arm. "It's too long, Uncle Riley. It can't be Mom's."
Riley dug his fingernails into his palms.
"Then it's…But that can't be. Dad would turn to dust if he died."
"I'm so sorry, Theo, but I think we must accept that they died. A long time ago. Maybe as much as a hundred years ago."
#
Theo wrenched his arm loose from Riley. "I'm not going to give up just like that! A hundred years. I can work with a hundred years. I'm going in there and I'll go back and I’ll get them!"
"Hold him!" Dawn snapped.
Riley obeyed and they both clung onto the struggling boy.
"Let me go," Theo said, clearly making an effort to appear calm. "I know I can do this."
"Have you ever gone that far back in time before?" Riley asked.
Theo bit his lip. "No."
"We can’t let you do it," Riley said. "We’ll consult Willow and the others first."
"Dawn!" Theo begged. "I know I can do it. The others told me to. They wouldn't tell me if they hadn't survived, would they?"
Dawn’s voice had sharp, jagged edges. "Theo, just before we came over here, we saw one of you. You carried a nasty old scar and looked unhappy."
"That doesn’t have to mean anything," Theo said.
His taut body went limp under their hands.
"You understand that we can’t let you sacrifice yourself for your parents, son," Riley said kindly, "even if I think well of you for doing it."
Dawn thought that was going a bit too far. Patronizing. Theo squeezed her hand twice and Dawn decided that she couldn't keep him from trying. She eased aside a little bit and prepared to grab Riley’s arms when Theo tried his thing.
In the end, he did it before she was ready. With a scream, he tore loose from Riley’s arms and hurled himself face first into the portal.
Riley bashed his fist in his other hand. "Dawn, dammit. That was completely irresponsible."
"I believed him. He has the right to choose for himself, baby."
"He's only a kid. How old is he, eighteen, nineteen?"
"Exactly, not that much younger than me. And years older than Buffy was when she had to save the world on a weekly basis, all by herself."
Riley’s stiff shoulders relaxed. "That doesn't make it right. It’s never sat easy with me, the choosing of young girls for this work."
"Someone has to do it," Dawn said. " Why would sex or age matter? Are you more ready to die than Theo is?"
"No. I don’t want to die. I want to have a life, with you."
They hugged silently, unwilling to move away from the chest. Time went by. Dawn’s legs started to cramp.
"Riley. How long are we going to wait?"
"All night."
A realization clunked into her stomach like a donut binge.
"The babies! We forgot the babies!"
"Fuck."
The panic in Riley's eyes would have been comical in any other circumstance.
"I'll go and deal with the babies. You wait here. You have your cell phone? Anyone I should call?"
"Where's Faith? Anywhere near?"
"I don’t know. I’ll call."
Dawn ran down the stairs. It took four tries with shaking fingers to open the car door. She blinked hard on the drive back over the snow-bound roads, so tears would not blind her and leave the little babies alone in the house with even less family. No brother. No father and mother. No. No, she would no cry. Not yet. Buffy always won. Spike had died twice. Or more, even. She could never remember who was leading in the who-died-the-most contest, because it wasn’t something she could bear to make fun of.
#
Theo fell hard on his hands and head. He rubbed his nose while he looked around. Exactly as Riley had described it. Now he would have to go back in time and find out what had happened. He'd never done something like that before. He could go back in time to any place or object or moment he could remember, and he'd been taken to Theo-bashes in the future. But just go back to somewhen he'd never been? He knew his older selves could do it, but didn't like to try.
He took a deep breath and stepped outside the flow of time, where moving objects were like gray squishy tubes coiling all over the place. Times Square was absolutely inaccessible for time travel for that reason. This place was empty and restful, with only the trees trembling a little in the time winds. He went back into time with one sharp burst of effort. The trees imploded and he stared into a night scene with rain stuttering across his visions. A gigantic black glistening thing roared a red maw in his face and lashed at him with its diamond-pointed tail. God, he really hoped that was a tail. He cannoned back to the future.
The trees were too tall - he'd overshot. He was going to have to be more subtle.
#
Theo looked down at the grave. It was a few days before Riley had disturbed it. He couldn't help wanting to know, could he? He dug into the ground below the grave. He found the skeleton that was too tall to be his mother. Perhaps vampires did not fall to dust like they did in this world. He was no forensic-scientist who could tell how the body had died. In the layer below the bigger skeleton he found the smaller one he’d been expecting. Of course. His father had taken his own life when his mother had gone. He’d never expected anything else. Not in a world without his children.
Okay. He scrubbed away the silly tears with his hand. He was never going to tell anyone about seeing this. It didn't exist. Time was putty in his hands. He would go back and mold it so this tragedy never happened.
Back.
#
A half-naked man was digging a grave in the rain. A rotting T-shirt covered the face of a very old woman. Her feet were wrinkled and callused like an elephant’s.
"Dad?"
The man looked up, his eyes like pools of rain in his face. "Theo?"
"Dad, is she …"
Spike interrupted him.
"Go back. Further back. You’re fifty years too late."
"But…"
"Go."
#
A woman with gray-streaked brown hair roasted a row of tiny carcasses on a stick over a low, smoky fire. It rained. The scrubby trees behind her didn't give any shelter against the rain.
"Mom?"
"Theo! Oh honey, you’re too early. Or too late. Time travel and Buffy are not matchy things. Go early. I'd love to have eaten less of these things, you know."
"Okay, Mom."
"Wait. Give me a kiss first, baby. Oh, your skin is like Spike’s - all cool and smooth. Yum. Go now."
#
Theo landed in sunshine on a thin covering of grass and couldn't decide what to do first- blush, turn around, or clap his hands over his eyes.
"Okay, honey, we're decent."
Theo turned around. His ears were throbbing and probably would have given off light in the dark.
His father was laughing sheepishly and his mother was looking glowing and red in the face. A boy didn’t want to know these things about his parents.
"You’re a little early. Can you come back in a couple of months?"
"But Mom! Everybody is freaking out because you guys are trapped in this dimension. They think you’re dead!"
"Theo, we knew you would get us back. At some point in time. We're just rally enjoying a little vacation from the baby stress in this wonderful sunny place. And they have these little creatures that are just delicious when roasted. Like frogs. Look!"
"You mother loves eating gurnenthars or some strange reason. Give us a hug and then scoot, all right? We need some more sleep and rec time."
Theo sighed. "Yes, sir. Bye, mom."
#
It was raining again. It always rained in this place, except, apparently, for those first few months his parents had been there.
"Oi!" his father called out. "About time! It’s been raining here for bloody weeks."
"Do you want me to go earlier?’
He was a good boy. At least, in a crisis, he could be.
"Come on then. I’ll try to get us back right after I've gone, because otherwise everyone will be in a very un-Christmassy mood."
"We’re ready for it. All rested and up for everything. And if we can't have bloodshed, we'll take Christmas brunch."
Theo thought they wouldn’t have known about Christmas brunch yet. Well, whatever.
"Go, honey," Buffy said.
#
"Uncle Riley. Uncle Riley, wake up!"
The rim of the chest hurt like hell against his cheekbone, and yet he must have fallen asleep. He opened his mouth to apologize but of course there was no point. Theo and his parents looked happy and vivid even in the gray light of morning. He felt as leaden as the sky outside, but forced his mouth into a smile. He was a soldier, he'd slept under worse circumstances. Although he'd never had so many nightmares about baby bottoms before.
#
Riley drove them home, unaccountably stony-faced. Buffy couldn't understand it. They were saved, Gurnenthar hadn't been able to ascend, and in fact, she had prevented many more gurnenthars from ever ascending, and he was being a grumpypants. Theo had, of course, escaped as soon as she’d noticed how he’d torn that perfectly nice wall apart. Boys.
Anyway. Her hair was a mess, after washing it in muddy water for three months, her party dress and new shoes were a distant memory, but she hadn't felt this rested in forever. Just what every new father and mother needed - a few months off in a nice sunny dimension. Until it had started to rain, and she’d been obliged to eat her gurnenthars raw. Ewww was the only word for that.
Her sister was asleep on the couch. Buffy felt a tiny pang of guilt when she saw Dawn’s tear-streaked face). A good thing she’d bought such a nice present. The babies were sleeping like angels, all three of them for once, and she bent over the triple-wide crib to inhale the delicious odor emanating from their fat creased necks. Like little warm apricots.
Grumpy Riley was deposited in the guest room and after a long shower and several hair treatments Buffy curled up to Spike in her own bed.
"I love you, honey," she murmured sleepily.
"C’mere, darling," he growled, but she knew he was already asleep.
#
Of course Dawn was overjoyed that Buffy and Spike had returned home unscathed. But she hadn't exactly spent a restful night, and if she had known how rowdy Spike and Buffy's Christmas brunch was going to be, she’d have preferred to check into a Ramada Inn or something.
The sisters hid behind the Christmas tree and leaned against the wall. "I thought I’d gotten used to it, but I’ve never seen as many Theos in one room together as I have this past hour. Who knew there were so many?" Dawn said.
"Who knew they would eat so many lox and bagels? I now know why Theo was sneaking in huge bags of food all day yesterday. It's traditional. Christmas Day is free-for-all day. Free-for-Theo day. Theos are apparently prohibited, by me and Spike - although I have yet to issue the prohibition – to jump in and out of our lives, except at Christmas."
A rather portly Theo with a riot of white curls was telling a filthy joke to a goggle-eyed sixteen-year-old.
"Don’t you think he’s a little young for that?" Dawn asked.
"Please, Dawn, have you forgotten who his father is? Spike has many wonderful qualities, but swallowing obscenities is not one of them."
Dawn hugged Buffy. "I have to get back to Riley. We’ve hurt his pride in some way, and I really don’t want him to feel bad about last night. He did great."
She owed everyone an explanation about how she'd opened the portal, but since Buffy and Spike hadn't seem to notice any gaps in their story so far, she thought she could get away with waiting until after the brunch from Hell.
#
Dawn came up to Riley for the second time in ten minutes, this time with a bagel. The last time it had been coffee, and before that champagne. He knew he must be looking wooden and bored, but really, it was just lack of sleep. And maybe feeling a little out of place among the magical creatures. Which had suddenly come to include Dawn. He needed time to think that over.
"It's all right. I'm just tired. And the Theos keep mobbing me."
Dawn hooked her arm in his. "You must be their favorite uncle. Perfectly understandable."
He wished she'd stop trying so hard.
She walked him slowly back to Buffy and Spike, who were both holding a baby and juggling champagne. A very old man appeared right in front of them and stepped up to Buffy and Spike.
He nodded perfunctorily to Spike and bowed before Buffy. Buffy smiled vaguely and extended the champagne-holding hand, giggling in surprise when the old man kissed it reverently.
"I just wanted to see you one more time," he said in a paper-thin old voice.
Dawn gasped and Riley knew she wanted to tell Buffy this had to be a Theo too, although with his bent old figure and pink scalp he could have been any old man. He clapped one hand over her mouth and collided with a cold one that was doing the exact same thing. His eyes met Spike's over Dawn's head and for the first time ever there was perfect understanding between them.
The old man bowed and disappeared with a little plop. They needed a distraction, fast.
"Ho ho ho!" Santa Claus boomed as he shattered the picture windows with his reindeers and his bone sleigh. "I have present for all the good little Theos! Line up!"
The little Theos shrieked and ran for older Theos. "Santa, Santa!"
Riley exhaled in relief and nodded to Spike. Buffy didn't need to understand the implications of all this right now. They couldn't keep it from her forever, and she was no fool. Some truths needed time to mellow them.
The End

Dead Man's Chest part 2

db2305 — Mon, 25 Dec 2006 18:43:30 GMT

Many thanks to gillo for the speed-beta! And alas for me, there needs to be a third part, bu tI'm too tired to write anymore. Tomorrow!

Dead Man's Chest part 2, by dutchbuffy2305
Story note: This takes place in the Spuffy Christmas Universe, like my other Christmas stories "Spiking the Christmas Punch", "Wolf, Reindeer & Heart", "Merry Christmas, Mr. Bloody" and "Hot Springs Eternal".
Rating: R-ish
Author's note: Made for the 2006 Gurnenthat's Ascension challenge at Tea At The Ford
Betaed by: the lovely kassto and gillo, lj-pals in need!

Feedback: *pants, tongue out*

Part 2
Buffy flicked a dagger and a stake into her hands from her arm sheaths and kicked in the door on the left of the landing. This was nice, sturdy oak, probably a much older door, and dutifully slammed open with a broken lock.
"Twenty!" a Gurnenthar crowed and tossed a screaming red-faced Theo to a bigger version of its bat winged, ropy-tailed self. The Gurnenthar's horned head towered over them, brushing the ceiling. Buffy noted the black streaks it had left on the white stucco and her homeowner's hackles rose.
The Gurnenthar paid no attention to the irate mother storming up to him over across a strangely expanding stretch of floor and put the baby in a gilded cage. Buffy pumped her legs harder, but the Gurnenthar receded further and further away. Twenty little Theos of various ages squalled or screamed or kicked in their cages, stacked haphazardly against the far wall. Which was getting smaller and less detailed. The Gurnenthar was becoming taller, too.
"Where's Twenty-One? I'm on a schedule here," The Gurnenthar said sharply to the smaller version. The minion's tail spiraled nervously around its greenish-black leg.
Buffy readied her dagger for throwing but at the rate she was progressing that would be somewhen next century.
"Twenty one!" another Gurnenthar crowed as it crashed through the window. Shards of glass flew and Buffy's teeth gritted when she saw a small cut appear on her son's sweet plump arm.
"Buff! Your axe!"
Spike's voice thundered like Odin's and pushed so hard against her shoulder blades she almost stumbled.
Her beautiful red axe thwocked slowly through the air, like a helicopter in slow motion. He thought she should grab that? Impossible. The axe was headed for the big Gurnenthar, which had to be the one actually getting ready for his Ascension. A thick green arm blocked the axe easily and sent it spinning of in the direction of a gilded cage. It intersected Buffy's line of sight to the Gurnenthar Senior and snapped the feeling of insignificance. The sudden distance from her eyes to the floor made her dizzy for a whole fraction of a second, but if Alice could overcome that, so could she. She threw herself toward the cage, a mere sixteen feet now, and time stood still as she slid over the waxed floor to the cage with its surprised-looking little boy inside and the axe tumbling towards it.
#
Dawn returned downstairs from a last tucking in and regarded the slumped form of her boyfriend with approval. Poor Riley. He hadn't known where he was at from one minute to the next, but he'd rallied like a trooper. He'd make a good dad.
She squeezed in next to him and slung her arm around his neck while she thumbed the remote.
Riley woke up with a start and stared dazedly at the TV. "Holiday Inn? Again? I thought they aired that earlier this evening."
"Sweetie. This is earlier this evening. It's only nine-thirty. You saw the beginning and this is the ending."
"Nine-thirty? We have ten more hours to go?"
Riley watched the singing with big, stressed eyes. "Is Bing Crosby a demon?"
"Of course," Dawn said. "Half-Brachen. I thought you knew?"
"I didn't. Six billion people don't sound like enough to keep the demon hordes at bay, all of a sudden." He sighed. "It seems quiet now, doesn't it?"
"It sure does."
Dawn smiled at Riley and watched him lose the contest with himself in not glancing down at her cleavage. That was what it was for, but the silly darling still seemed to think he should pretend she was made of spun sugar and never had sexy thoughts.
He slid his arm around her and she got a thrill of pleasure about this big a guy holding her tight, all wide chest and manly shoulder muscles. Made her feel all womanly and tiny.
"How about we go upstairs?"
"What's wrong with here?" Dawn whispered. "The guest beds aren't that comfy. It's so romantic, with the tree and all… "
Riley was just admiring the way her bra pushed up her breasts, when a loud crying splintered the mood. "Fuck."
Not now, alas. The half-dressed little boy sitting at their feet cried with heartbreaking intensity. They didn’t know why, but the ugly red gash across his ribs told a harrowing story.
"Sweetie!" Dawn said and held out her arms. "What's wrong, Theo honey? Let Auntie Dawn kiss your owies away…."
The boy looked frightened, as if he didn’t know her, and faded away, still crying.
"I never saw that scar before. You?" Riley said.
"No. Riley, I'm worried. Please do up my bra again, because I think Spike and Buffy might need help."
"Aren't you a little quick to jump to conclusions? They've only been away two hours, even if it seems like twenty."
Dawn stood up and smoothed down her clothes. "I'm sure. Theo loves me, Riley. Did you see how he looked at me? That boy didn’t know me. What does that tell you about his future?"
Riley shifted his pants into a more comfortable position and slow comprehension dawned on his face. "Spike and Buffy are dead?"
"Or they will be if we don’t act quickly. You get the car; I'll go get some books on Gurnenthar. I bet they didn’t even take the time to look him up and just took some random weapons. Sounds just like them."
#
Spike had always figured vampire physiology was pretty straightforward, but he'd never felt his innards rise up and throttle his gullet before. The axe tumbled straight at the little Theo in the cage and Buffy would never make the crease in time. Her fingertips touched the golden wires, which burned, and the axe took off a slice of skin of her middle finger before it buried itself deeply in the floor. Pity about that beautiful hardwood.
She scrabbled to her knees, ruining the leggings in the process, and couldn’t think why the Theos didn’t simply jump away from the bad scary demon. The gold wire bars must be bespelled or something like that. She hacked off the lock from the closest cage and the little boy inside disappeared instantly. Sensible kid.
The head Gurnenthar bellowed in pain. "No! You will not hamper my Ascension! Juniors, get me another red-headed child!"
"Plenty more where they came from, boss," the little creature squeaked and flew off while still kowtowing to its master.
It slammed straight into Spike. He ripped off its head with his bare fangs.
"All juniors, go get more children!" the big Gurnenthar yelled. "I need spares!"
He turned his back on Buffy and bent down to open up a big carved wooden chest.
"Lords of the Ascension, hear thy brother's prayer! It is the season of Solstice and your brother is ready to be taken up into your realm! Hear my prayer!"
Spike tried to climb the Gurnenthar's neck but a flick of the big shiny wings threw him back against the door. Okay, Buffy wouldn't be trying the neck. Sometimes it wasn't so bad to be short. She hacked at its left hamstring and was rewarded with a bellow of pain.
"Harken, brothers, hearken unto me! This is my blood I spill! This is my sacrifice unto thee!"
Shit. Gurnenthar didn’t seem to mind being without the use of one leg. Spike was tearing off a wing in a spray of green gore, and there went her new Christmas dress. She didn’t mind as long has her shoes were okay, because they had cost a bundle.
She hacked through another mighty thew and figured that Spike now had the Gurnenthar. The cages. She had no time to fiddle with them. The axe sliced cleanly through a lock, but she barely missed the chubby little hands that were stretching out towards her in entreaty. "Mommy!"
Not with the axe then. A new flurry of minions flying in from all sides with arms full of squealing Theos made her business even more urgent. She grabbed her dagger and hacked at the next lock. What the fuck was the big guy doing now? Climbing into that chest? No way could they let him ascend. Every Ascension, the number of junior Gurnenthars multiplied exponentially, and even though math wasn't her strong point, from the dozens that were here now she guessed the earth wouldn’t be big enough to hold the next generation.
"Spike! He's ascending! Grab him!"
Spike hung on to the torn wing as the great creature folded itself into the chest. It disappeared further than should have been possible and Buffy hesitated for one, two beats before she dove after Spike and just managed to grab his boot as it slid over the edge into nothingness
#
Riley threw on his jacket and ran to the car. It was a good thing he'd brought some stuff along. He fished his gun and Kevlar vest from the trunk and selected a few other choice weapons.
Dawn came staggering out the door, still in her black party dress and heels, carrying half a dozen bulky volumes. He helped her chuck them in back and slid behind the wheel.
"Drive. I know the address."
"Talk to me about Gurnenthar," Riley said, as he carefully navigated the slippery curves.
"Riley, we're not stopping for that red light, Just drive."
It went against the grain, but he consoled his conscience with the thought that they were on a mission and didn’t have time for the niceties.
"Gurnenthars spawn in great numbers. Each year, the one that has managed to grow to the largest size, probably by devouring its siblings, is allowed to ascend to its brothers in heaven. The assumption is this is another dimension, since no mature/ascended Gurnenthar has ever been seen on Earth. " Dawn gave the book a quarter turn to look at the center fold. "Probably all the better, he looks enormous, and then the horn and the wings and the spiky tail…"
They drove up with squealing tires to a big fancy house. Gurnenthar must be loaded. He'd never be able to buy Dawn a house like this on his Major's salary. Now if he managed to make Lieutenant-Colonel…
Two sets of footsteps only led to the front door. Had all the demons been inside before the snow started falling? In Cleveland, that meant October. He ducked when a dark thing flew over his head and nicked his cheek with its tail. Oh. That was how they got in.
The door was open, in a way, and Riley wrenched himself through the child size gap that had been hacked into it.
"Stay back, Dawn," he ordered and readied his machine gun. No time for subtlety.
"Don’t shoot Buffy!" she yelled below him as he ran up the stairs.
He heard the books thunk down.
#
A short burst of machine-gun fire and then another. It couldn't be babies crying, could it? It was just a demon trick to lure in unsuspecting victims. The Daa Chang, if she remembered correctly. And she should, because she'd aced that exam. Dawn was on her knees in the downstairs halls, frantically rifling through the priceless volumes spread all around her. "Gurnenthar dimension, Gurnenthar's home, rules of," wasn't getting her a thing, so she returned to "Gurnenthar, Ascension of." But she'd read that already, and it didn’t seem to be doing a thing for her.
"Dawn!" Riley bellowed from upstairs. "Get the wire cutters from the trunk!"
She didn’t much like being Girl Friday to the big lug with the gun. She'd handled that way better in the Chena Hot Springs Ice Hotel last years, when they were all still thinking Buffy was only pregnant with twins. She ran back outside, adding another two tracks to the four already there and sprinted upstairs with the big heavy tool.
"Oh!"
That was just unbearable. Dozens of cages full of cute little freckled faces smeared with tears and crying wordlessly or calling out for uncle Riley. Three or four small batlike creatures lying in spreading pools of chartreuse gore. Riley looking heroic and a little splattered. My God, he'd risked firing the damn thing with kids in the room. What if they'd been hit? Or if the bullets had ricocheted?
"Riley, are you out of your mind?"
"Dawn, empty those cages. I shot one and the kid in there disappeared like this. Let's get rid of them quick before the auxiliary troops come flying in. Duck."
She ducked and a good thing too because Riley shot the thing that had been poised against the ceiling right above her. A lime green splash landed in her cleavage and burned a little.
She stumbled over to the cages and started snipping off the locks with the enormous clumsy wire cutter. Riley was right; the Theos went straight home.
"Go home to mommy and daddy! Right now!" she told them sternly and the older ones nodded.
One little guy fell out of the cage and clung screaming to her calves. Dawn hoisted him up to her hip but had to put him down again. Too many Theos to go. She worked frantically at opening all twenty-one cages, trying not to look at Riley when the gun went off. Trying to trust that he wouldn’t shoot her, which she knew he didn’t want to, but in the heat of the moment…He'd looked so much more frightening and martial than she'd always pictured him. Strapping and easily led, she'd described him to a friend. This was different. This was a man who knew his business.
She cut open the last cage with cramping, shaking hands and was relieved to see the baby pop out of existence immediately. The cutter clattered to the floor and she turned to Riley. The death count had gone up and so had the amount of gore burning spirals in the wooden floor. This house was going to be hard to sell.
"Riley?"
"Over here, Dawn. I think this is where the big guy went. All the minions are trying to get into that big chest here."
She approached it cautiously, stepping around the pools of ick, and peered inside. The howling nothing that greeted her peeled her eyeballs like grapes and rolled them in sand.
"Ouch. I guess that is a portal to the Ascended dimension. But the book says he has to shoot back the spawn or there will be no next generation."
Riley drew his head back so quickly it would have been funny in any other situation.
"Ew," he said when she looked at him reproachfully.
"Riley, the ew is not important right now. You have to follow him, or we have to follow it in to burn the spawn or kill the Ascended Gurnenthar or something. Nobody in the whole world has let a Gurnenthar ascend since the dawn of time. We're not going to be the first."
"How about we rescue Spike and Buffy?" Riley said.
"That goes without saying," Dawn bit back.
It was almost like there were having their first fight, and she didn't even want to fight. There was nothing to fight about! Not now, when she'd sort of had that revelation about him and loved him m ore than before. Come on, it was Christmas. There would be no fights. She suppressed the memory of her parents' Christmases forcefully.
"Okay, I'm going in," Riley said. "You're not." When she opened her mouth to protest, he said, "Someone has to take care of those kids, Dawn."
Dawn's eyes shot full of tears. No, that couldn’t; be true. Not that she wouldn't do it, but that would be so wrong on so many levels. "It's Christmas! Father Christmas loves them. He'll help them if we can't."
A neigh sounded from outside and an enormous horse came in by way of the broken window, putting the finishing touches on the wreck of the window frame and part of the wall as well.
"You rang?" Santa Claus said and laughed heartily at his own joke. "Off with you, lad. I'm really being too busy to be making house calls."
A jaunty adult Theo jumped off from behind Santa Claus's broad back, and waved hello.
"Don't go in there, Uncle Riley. Gurnenthar's dimension has a different time frame. Don’t wanna do a Rip van Winkle on us, do you?"
His words were flippant but he looked pale and worried.
Dawn's stomach lurched. "How much of a time differential?"
TBC

Christmas fic 2006: Dead Man's Chest, part 1

db2305 — Mon, 25 Dec 2006 10:39:54 GMT

This is only the first part, folks, so bear with me as I try to get the rest out today. If I don't make that, tomorrow! Extra special super thanks for kassto and gillo, who helped me out in my hour of need, i.e., a crappy first draft that needed Beta First Aid.

Dead Man's Chest part 1, by dutchbuffy2305
Story note: This takes place in the Spuffy Christmas Universe, like my other Christmas stories "Spiking the Christmas Punch", "Wolf, Reindeer & Heart", "Merry Christmas, Mr. Bloody" and "Hot Springs Eternal".
Rating: R-ish
Author's note: Made for the 2006 Gurnenthat's Ascension challenge at Tea At The Ford
Betaed by: the lovely kassto and gillo, lj-pals in need!

Feedback: *pants, tongue out*

Riley pulled up in front of an extremely ordinary suburban house, complete with the usual abundance of Christmas lights. The driveway and a path to the front door were neatly shoveled. Cleveland sure had lots of snow.
"You sure this is it?"
Dawn rolled her eyes. "Of course I'm sure. I've been here like ten times before!"
"It looks so ordinary, is all," Riley protested weakly.
"And 1630 Revello Drive didn't?"
Riley got out of the car and hastened around to open Dawn's door. Not much managed to shut a Summers woman up, but chivalry had a pretty good chance.
She smiled up at him from the depths of her fur-lined hood and his heart melted. She was so pretty. They hadn't been able to see each other as much as he would have liked with his postings all over the world, but they'd texted and IM-ed whenever possible. She'd been a great support to him during his stint in Gitmo.
They'd been supposed to go and stay with his parents in Iowa, but Dawn had persuaded him they really needed to come to Spike and Buffy's aid. Apparently, Gurnenthar's ascension was the crisis du jour and they needed someone to help them. Dawn had been adamant in the face of his protests. He'd packed his emergency demon kit and actually felt kind of honored to be included again in team Buffy.
He got out their bags and the emergency kit and followed Dawn up the driveway-one, because he was a guest, and two, because it gave him a great opportunity to ogle her ass.
Halfway up the path a young man stormed out of the house and almost bowled him over.
"Riley!" an excited voice said and he was grabbed in a bear hug, bags and all.
He looked down into a freckled, very young man's face and an astonishing flaming red head of curls. "If I'd known you were coming I wouldn't have bailed! I'll be back! Wait for me!"
He bounded down the driveway and took off on foot down the avenue.
"Who was that?" Riley said.
"Theo," Dawn said. "I told you about him, didn't I? The time-traveling one."
Riley took a deep breath of freezing cold Cleveland air. "That can't be Theodore. Theodore is nine months old. Is there another Theo I should know about?"
Dawn rang the bell and looked over her shoulder, frowning. "I'm sure I told you about Theo. Like I said, he has time displacement issues. That was him at, I guess, early twenties?"
Riley's head reeled. When the door opened, he walked blindly after Dawn and stumbled into Buffy's arms. She kept him easily upright and gave him a distracted smile.
"Dawn, was that Theo walking away just now? I asked him to give you two a hand. Looking after triplets is not nothing for two inexperienced people."
She had one of the triplets on her arm, a sturdy little kid with a face like a schnauzer and a head full of translucent red fuzz. Quite the ugliest little baby he'd ever seen.
"I guess you met Theo already, Riley? This is what he looks like now. When he's here, that is."
The baby disappeared and Buffy shook out her left arm. "Getting heavy. Come on in. Glad you got here on time; the weather report said heavy snow."
Buffy looked great; her hair golden as ever, a high color in her cheeks and very, um, buxom, a lot more so than he was used to.
She winked at him. "It's the breastfeeding. Put down your bags and let me give you a quick introduction to the other kids."
Riley was mortified. He'd been caught staring at his potential future sister-in-law's bosom and that was wrong on so many levels, even more so because she was also his ex-girlfriend. Dawn squeezed his elbows. "Don't pay attention to Buffy. She's been like this since the kids were born. Manic, I mean. It must be hell."
Yes, that was what the living room looked like. Hell. Kids’ toys were strewn everywhere, babies screeched, two little boys with red hair were jumping on the couch, the TV was on and a skinny teenager was lying on the floor with a computer game blaring in his hands. It couldn't have a hologram dancing above it, could it? He wasn't that far out of the loop.
This was worse than quashing a demon insurrection. At least you knew what to shoot at. Riley had the sinking feeling that shooting was not going to be an option with these little demons. He looked around. He counted at least seven boys with red hair at various ages. Oh boy. This was not going to be a relaxed Christmas.
"Theos!" Buffy said sternly. "It's not Christmas yet. You should all go back home and you can come back tomorrow, on Christmas Eve. You have to scoot now and give Riley and Dawn some peace."
"Riley! Riley, Riley!"
Excited squeals from the redheaded boys. The smallest of the mobile ones rammed his moist red-cheeked face in Riley's thigh and looked up to him ecstatically. "Uncle Wiley! Wiley!"
One of the others punched his arm and a third tried to tickle him but wasn't quite tall enough. Riley got the sinking feeling he must be really popular with his nephew-to-be Theo. And that apparently he was around a lot.
He checked out Dawn's face. What did she think of all this?
She was blushing hotly. "Sorry Riley. I don't mean to put you on the spot or anything."
He blushed too when he realized what it implied about their future relationship.
Buffy bit her lip and looked politely away. "Now scoot, Theos! Riley is very busy tonight with baby Theo."
One by one the Theos disappeared, leaving their chaos behind. Silence. Wow. Riley supposed he'd better savor this moment; it would have to last him for quite some time. Behind the gigantic Christmas tree, he discovered a playpen with two other, less mobile, babies in it.
One of them was a golden-haired fat baby in pink, the other a nondescript kid in blue. Ezekiel and Gioia, he assumed.
"Sorry to hustle you like this, Riley," Buffy said, shrugging herself into her coat. "Spike and I have to hurry. Spike!"
Riley heard feet rapidly descending the stairs and Spike entered the room, looking as harried as Riley felt. He was carrying one of the ubiquitous red-haired boys, this time one that seemed only a little older than the babies in the pen.
"Oi, Buffy. Just changed him. Is it my imagination or did I do that about twenty times today?"
"He just loves it when you change him, you know that. They're all very excited and they're too young to be exact about Christmas."
Spike sighed and deposited the baby in the playpen, where he immediately started banging his sister on the head with a purple dinosaur.
"Dawn, could you?" Buffy asked, and Dawn picked up the little monster with apparent relish.
"Riley. Possibly ``Riley. Good of you to come, mate. We’re up to our ears. Gotta rush off, but one thing — tell all the Theos, they have to stay home tonight . They’re not to come chasing after us or I’ll wring their little necks. Don't want them hanging onto my legs in the middle of a fight. Home is the only place they're allowed to jump to."
Riley nodded, struck dumb.
"Ta, mate. Let's go, love. Night's not getting any longer and that Gurnenthar needs your axe in his neck."
And on that cheery note, they left. Quicker than he could react with: “Wait, I don't know what to do with your kids. I've never even looked after normal kids before. Heeeeelp!"
#
Spike hooked his arm firmly into Buffy's and practically dragged her to the car. "Let the fun begin," he said in her ear.
There was a tangle of almost-giggles and I'm-leaving-mydarlings-last-minute misgivings, but he ignored those and drove off in a fountain of snow. There. They deserved this. Gurnenthar's ascendance, which they'd had to skip last year due to getting married and being pregnant with triplets – although they hadn't known that at the time. Presumably because Theodore had been off skipping through time at every echo. Crafty little bugger.
Buffy was giving in to the inevitable, her bright head sinking slowly toward the headrest. When she didn't smile, like now, he could see the tired lines beside her mouth and the dark circles beneath her eyes. Breastfeeding and caring for triplets took a lot out of a woman, even a Slayer. They were owed a night of fun and violence and some undisturbed sex after.
"You got the map, love?"
Buffy dove into her enormous purse and rooted around. By the time she emerged, red-faced, Spike didn't need the explanation anymore.
"I'm sorry, baby. I must have left it on the changing-table," she said. "No, wait."
She stuck her hand in her giant breastfeeding bra and brought up a handkerchief, a five-dollar bill and a receipt for shoes. The amount on the bill made his eyes pop, but when they slid down to the drool spot on Buffy's winter coat - last year's coat, he was pretty sure - he told himself to forget it. She deserved a treat. She deserved the best, and when you had three sprogs around who also deserved the best, very often the mother and father lost out. Not so tonight.
He sniggered. "How about the Captain's face, then, love? Eyes fair popping out of their sockets, eh?"
Buffy elbowed him gently, mindful of the icy roads. Speaking of icy roads, he now only had an address and no clue how to get there.
"South-West, Buff? Airport or Indianapolis?"
"Um…"
Airport it was then. Bloody stingy buggers at the Council should spring for a Tom-Tom. They'd wasted many an hour finding elusive addresses. Demons and their like were weren't often listed in the Yellow pages.
It started snowing. Buffy fell asleep, emitting tiny ladylike snores as her mouth fell open. Spike sighed in contentment. He loved even her open mouth and her snores, and since those were a fair certainty in the near and far future, he was a lucky man indeed. He removed a golden lock from her cheek. The brown roots were showing badly. The triplets were sleeping well, in theory, but he figured he and Buffy were going to move to another time zone in the next seven year. Energetic, fully-dressed Theos were wont to pop into existence at ungodly hours, insisting it was playtime and they didn’t deserve to get punished.
And how did one punish a time traveler anyway? The kid could just jump away from any place he didn’t like at any time. They were going to have to rely heavily on the moral upbringing. He hadn't the faintest clue how they would ever manage it, but adult Theo seemed like a very stable, friendly kind of guy who was admirably reticent about what exactly he did. So. They were going to manage it. His head still reeled from the all the time travel paradoxes he and Buffy had thought up.
When he found himself in a residential area for the second time, he phoned up Dawn and asked her to find him a route online. He was only two blocks off. Gurnenthar had apparently decided to ascend in an impressive, early twentieth-century brick mock-Georgian. Better than the house he and Buffy had. Maybe he could ask Andrew to look into acquiring the property, which would devalue sharply after the messy, messy slay he was looking forward to. He licked his lips. The crunching of bone, blood splatter that would confound even Dexter, gore in all colors of the rainbow. Buffy panting and throwing of an aerosol of exciting sweat.
He put his hand on her neck and turned her head gently towards him. "Wake up sweetheart. Time to slay!"
She woke with a start. "What? Were? Is it time to feed? Oh."
Her hands stopped their automatic fumbling at the front closure of her bra and instead twisted her hair into a slaying ponytail with quick, practiced movements.
"Axe in back?"
"Yep."
She hopped out of the car and tripped to the boot. He loved her when she had that bloodthirsty gleam in her eye. Amazing woman.
They took in the pristine snow in the front yard . "Just bash in the front door, pincer movement, or attic window?" he whispered
The Christmas tree rattled softly. Looking harder, he saw bone ornaments shivering in the still air. Oh yes, this was the real thing. Blood. Gore. Actual blood. He was still brassed off at those doctors who’d insisted Buffy have the twins in hospital, denying him the pleasures of all that blood and afterbirth.
Anyway. Fresh blood, even if it was only boring demon gore. A bloke couldn’t complain, now, could he, about not getting enough action when he had four beautiful and loving humans at home.
"What did you say, Spike?" Buffy said, grimacing apologetically. "I was thinking about Riley and Dawn, whether they can manage what with the Theos popping in all the time."
"Sweetheart, don’t worry your pretty little head about them. You've earned, we've earned ourselves a couple of hours of peace and quiet. I mean, blood and mayhem. Right?"
"Of course. Let's just kick in the front door, baby. I'm not in the mood for subtleties."
Spike sighed happily.
"On two."
They stippled the immaculate lawn with their separate footsteps. One, two…
Crash! Their combined superpowers hit the hollow plywood and the door splintered, but did not open..
"Rotten craftsmanship," Spike grumbled as he tried to free Buffy's ankle boot without laddering her tights.
"Maybe I shouldn’t have worn leggings for slaying," Buffy pouted, "but I wanted to feel young and pretty again tonight."
"You'll never be anything but. And you've always slayed in four-inch glitter platform heels, love. Of course you should wear whatever you please."
Buffy's axe staved in the rest of the flimsy door and they stepped inside. Gleaming pale hardwood floors stretched to both wings and a curving staircase wound to the second floor.
"Nice house," Buffy said enviously. "At least four bathrooms, I should think."
Spike thought of telling her about his plan to buy it once they'd wrecked it, but it might strike the wrong note.
Something moved just outside his peripheral vision.
"Did you see that, love?"
"what? Let's go kill it."
"No, wait. I thought I saw a flash of red hair."
"A Theo? Here? Hardly likely."
Unless he bought the house. Had bought the house. Was going to have bought the house.
A fat naked three-year-old streaked giggling across the hallway and disappeared.
"Spike!" Buffy said. "How is that possible?"
He scratched his head. Bleaching always made his scalp itchy. " Ahh…. Planned on putting an offer on this house — could get us a real bargain. Ascensions play merry hell with the resale value… We must have actually bought it. Or that sentence in some other tense."
"Oh Spike!"
Buffy had stars in her eyes, but didn't lose the grip on her axe for one second. Full mom mode had switched back on the moment the Theo had appeared on the scene. Spike filed the notion of a post-slay shag under "Unlikely".
Another infant ran across their vision, this time pursued by a Gurnenthar demon. Its wings and tail kept it balanced as it cornered sharply to follow the child's zigzag course.
Buffy's axe sailed through the air and neatly beheaded it.
The child was long gone.
Again a baby appeared in midair. A flying gurnenthar snatched it up and swooped up to the third floor with a triumphant cackle.
"Spike! Get the axe and follow me!" Buffy snapped.
Her shoes disappeared up the stairs in a blur of Christmassy red glitter.
TBC

Last Year's Christmas Story

db2305 — Mon, 25 Dec 2006 09:02:19 GMT

I'm working my ass off to get this year's offering finished, but first last year's installment. Or this one won't make any sense.

Hot Springs Eternal, by dutchbuffy2305

Story note: This takes place in the Spuffy Christmas Universe, like my other Christmas stories "Spiking the Christmas Punch", "Wolf, Reindeer & Heart", and "Merry Christmas, Mr. Bloody."

Rating: R-ish

Author's note: I'm not being completely accurate as to the internal locations of the Ice Hotel/Museum and Chena Hot Springs, but bear with me for the sake of fic, willya?

Betaed by: mommanerd

Feedback: *wags tail*

Riley Finn shifted carefully in his cold weather suit. The damn thing creaked with every minute movement and he wished he was back in the Amazon forest. He might even prefer candiru fish swimming up through his piss into his urinary tract to having frozen fingertips. Well, no. Divorce was hell, but at some point he'd find another use for his poor lonely dick. He sighed and wiggled his ears to be sure he still could. His communications man sat crouched over the great grandchild of the portable radio, carefully wrapped up in its own little heated suit, like a pampered lapdog. At last, he held up his hand to show he was done and Riley waved him over.

“Sir! The other unit is stranded in Fairbanks; they're having a bad storm down there."

Riley couldn’t help looking south, although he knew fifty miles was much too far away to see anything. “We’re to proceed to target as planned. Reinforcements will come as soon as the weather permits.”

Riley would have liked to utter a few well-chosen epithets and kick something, but a commanding officer just did not have that luxury. He took a deep breath, and then regretted that. The cold air burned his lungs. It had to be subzero weather. He didn’t ask. His men had been stationed here for six months, and he was the only newcomer to the arctic, straight from the steaming jungles. They'd see it as a weakness if he complained about the weather or even noticed it.

“We’re go, men. Team A, deploy from the south. Use the back entrance. Team B, deploy from the North; check the garages. Team C is with me, we go in from the front. Chief, I want from you the temperature, the time, time of sunrise, and a rendez vous time.”

“Sir, yes sir. It’s 2 degrees, 08:45, sunrise at 09:58. Rendez vous in the lobby at 09:45,” Jonesy said.

Riley nodded at him. "Maintain radio silence unless attacked, men."

He was just about to give the signal to go when their southern lookout lifted a hand for silence.

He listened, and he heard something that he couldn’t place at first, but then recognized as skis, or a sleigh, crunching the fresh snow.

“Bloody hell, woman,” a loud voice cursed. “Who the bloody hell had the bloody stupid idea to do it in the middle of bloody winter in the bloody Arctic?"

Wanted: very fast beta

db2305 — Sun, 24 Dec 2006 21:15:40 GMT

Dear flist,

who of you has time for a very quick beta of the first half of my Christmas story? You'll get my eternal gratitude!

Happy Holidays!

db2305 — Sun, 24 Dec 2006 20:31:27 GMT

Happy Holidays, dear, dear flist! I love all of you even if I don't
a. Post as much as I should
b. Comment as much as I should
c. Write as much fanfiction as you think I ough to.

It matters not, love is all....

With special hugs and sloppy kisses for jonesiexxx, who sent me a Chanukkah card, and gamiila, who sent me a Christmas card. I am of course Lamey McLame-o, because I never get around to sending Christmas Cards. I sent three last years, two of which were to you guys. Out of sheer guilt. This year I was too lame to even manage that, and yet I love you. How can that be? I know it not, and yet love is all...

Tiptoes away to start on completely un-finished Christmas fic, that really should be finished tomorrow morning. The joy is in the striving, is that not what they say?

Pre-Christmas Oldie Repost

db2305 — Tue, 19 Dec 2006 21:49:20 GMT

Since Semagic is giving me the cold shoulder, I'm posting this the old-fashioned way. Take that, Semagic!

As I said before, my Holiday contribution fic isn't ready by a long shot, (cue for mild panic) so I'll try to tide you over by offering my series of Christmas fics, one each week until the new one is ready...

This was/is the 2004 offering:

Merry Christmas, Mr. Bloody (1/2) by dutchbuffy2305

Rating: PG-13, perhaps the mildest of R's for smutty thoughts. More schmoop than schmut, though. Christmas is not a very smutty kind of day, after all... Insert any holiday of your preference if you don't do Christmas.

Timeline: Christmas 2004; a sequel to my other Christmas stories with Spike

Author's note: Hug to my betas Spikejones, Ladyanne, meko and mommanerd!

Author's website: http://home.planet.nl/~dutchbuffy2305;

Feedback: Yes, please, loads of it, to dutchbuffy2305@yahoo.co.uk

"The rain cuts his face with knives and swords, blinding him, distorting all sound and making his clothes so wet they drag at him like lead. Spike wipes his face with his sleeve but that makes the world turn a transparent red and he sees even less.

"Angel!" he bellows. "Blue! Charlie! You still there?"

There is no answer but the drumming sound of the relentless, driving rain. He cries out in anger and grief.

"Bastards!"

Then there's a blast of warm air and abruptly everything around him is shrouded in hot white mist. After the bitterly cold onslaught of the rain, it's like a smile against his face, and he runs forward, sword in hand. This is an intervention of the gods, granted to give him a chance to revenge his fallen friends."

Click here to read more "Merry Christmas, Mr. Bloody!"

Old Christmas stories, part two

db2305 — Wed, 13 Dec 2006 15:02:19 GMT

As I said in the first installment, my Holiday contribution fic isn't ready by a long shot, so I'll try to tide you over by offering my series of Christmas fics, one each week until the new one is ready...

Enjoy!

Wolf, Reindeer & Heart by dutchbuffy2305

Starring: Spike

Pairing: none

Rating: R

Author's note: Written for TeaattheFord Christmas Challenge, December 2003

Author's website:http://home.planet.nl/~dutchbuffy2305

Feedback: Yes, please, todutchbuffy2305@yahoo.co.uk

"Spike catches a whiff of a familiar scent. It conjures up white-hatted forests and tall fair maidens full of blood, with side orders of raw fish. He once spent a winter above the pole circle; the amounts of alcohol and depressed Swedish blood he consumed were life-changing, and he will never forget that one time with Angel and the troll…He holds the phone against his chest and walks out of Angel's office to see what's causing it. A green, conic object tightly wadded up in fluorescent orange netting is being thrust jerkily into the great hall of Wolfram and Hart, like a troll penetrating the back entrance of his loved one without lube. Spike identifies the smell as spruce and goes back to the automatic dial up of the phone num

Click here to read more "Wolf, Reindeer & Heart"!

Noveling again

db2305 — Wed, 13 Dec 2006 13:30:58 GMT

Progress report: I hit a 100,000 words today!

101253 / 140,000
(72.%)

This was followed by the realization that the chapter I was working on has expanded from a projected 5000 words first into 6000 words, because all my chapters in this book seem to turn out that long, and then that they were three chapters altogether, massing 20,000 words in toto. Which means I'm still going to have to do seven more chapters (or eight), and the novel needs to be 140,000 words long and I might get more lovely surprises just like this.

I never really expected it to turn out below 120,000 words, to be honest, in spite of my neat 20 chapter ouline. But stil, 20,000 + more is a lot. I so wanted to be done by January so I can start editing Single White Werewolf. I think I have discovered (one of the) thing(s) that's wrong with it. The first three or four chapters don't match the rest of the novel. They promise the reader the wrong thing.
This is something I pointed out to my critique buddy, sylviavolk2000, lately, but it took me another three months to figure it out for my own novel! Mote, meet beam...

So I just have to scratch those first chapters, start at the place the first scene of that novel started, two years ago (see? Never second guess yourself) and reintroduce the things I introduced in the original first chapters only in a different way and a different spot.

Novel Title: Still No Title
Typos: too many to recount here. Hubby's fixing them for me, the darling.
Darling du jour: The Bridge Troll's voice fell on him like an avalanche of bricks.
New novel bunnies: Two
Still searching for: the cool thing that makes humanity unique in this universe

Meta novel thoughts

db2305 — Wed, 06 Dec 2006 21:53:55 GMT

Progress today: 2000+ words
Total: 89,500
Title: No Title yet

I was thinking about a realization I had recently; that so far my novels have been about protagonists who are new to their power and who have to discover the limits of that, and a whole new world as well.
I checked out my plot-bunnies, and Number One Plotbunny (the one who's about to become New Novel) was again one of those newbie protagonists. Werewolves, vampires, whatevers.

But a lot of authors write about protagonists who live in a world that is strange to us, but normal to them. What they encounter is not the shock of a new power or inheritance, but a case, or a murder, or a new love.

Do you have a preference for one of the other, either in writing or in readinag? I have the feeling I ought to spread my novels over these two categories, but I don't know why I feel that, since I think these categories are neither good nor bad, they just are.

Thoughts, please? For those who don't generally have those, a hug or grope will do fine, thank you....

Rejection sucks

db2305 — Mon, 04 Dec 2006 18:05:45 GMT

I got another novel rejection in the mail today. From the agent who wanted an exclusive on my partial.

*cries*

I guess I write a pretty good query, and them my first three chapters don't measure up...

*slinks away*