the bright day is done and we are for the dark.

simon tam ficathon

joshy — Mon, 12 Jul 2004 04:22:46 GMT

Written for sathinks, who wanted Simon to take Kaylee out on the town. Due to crazy school stuff, I wrote this all very late on Saturday night, and it's therefore unbetad, and I'm really not sure if it sucks. So a tentative apology in advance.

Title: High Society
Pairing: Simon/Kaylee
Rating: PG
Summary: Simon's just too shy. Inara plays matchmaker.

“I…uh…I don’t really know where to start,” he stammered. “I’ve got two tickets to this ball…well,they aren’t really mine, Inara gave them to me…because she can’t go to it and I was…I was, uh, wondering if you’d like to go. With me. As, you know, just friends. If you want. Or don’t know. I mean, if you want to.” He paused awkwardly, looked down, afraid to meet her eyes.

“How could I ever resist such persuasiveness and determination?” she giggled, sympathy detectable in her voice.

“That was awful, wasn’t it?” Simon asked.

Inara shrugged. “I’ve heard worse. You just have to be more forceful. You sound like you’d prefer it if she said no. Let her know you want to be with her.”

Simon nodded. “Right. Forceful. I can do that. But what if I’m all forceful and she still says no? Surely that’d be worse.”

Inara raised her eyebrows at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. She won’t say no. She wants this as much as you do.”

Simon furrowed his brow, and Inara smiled. “Your utter lack of perception is forgivable, Simon, due to the fact that you’re a male, but trust me. I know what I’m talking about.”

“Right, because you had that all that Guild training. You know about body language and stuff?”

“And stuff,” Inara muttered. Outside of Inara’s shuttle, the thundering of combat boots began to approach. “I think Kaylee’s coming. Remember, don’t be too shy. Moderate shyness is alright, though. She told me she thinks you’re cute when you blush.”

Simon looked at her, eyes wide, as she got up to leave the shuttle. “You arranged for her to come here?” Inara grinned. “Perhaps. You’re going to ask her now, or I will have to tie you two together.”

Simon breathed deeply as Kaylee entered the shuttle, an expression of anticipation on her face. “You wanted to talk to me?”

Simon looked at her and attempted a confident smile.. But not too confident, his brain told his mouth.

“Uh…hey, Kaylee…I was just…I was wondering…well, I have these, these tickets for this, uh, this…”

Kaylee’s face broke into a warm beam and Simon stopped talking, worrying that she was making fun of him. He felt himself blush.

“Are you asking me to come to a ball on Aphra? On a date?”

Simon sputtered in relief. “Uh…yeah. Yes, I was. Would you…”

“Of course!” Kaylee giggled. “I would love to.”

Simon laughed in relief. “Great. That’s great. How did you know?”

Kaylee winked at him. “It was a lucky guess.”

*

Simon shifted uncomfortably in the decadently expensive suit that Inara had hired out for him, breathing in their luxuriously perfumed surroundings as he moved down the thickly carpeted hallway, Kaylee holding on to his arm.

“You look…gorgeous,” he’d told her, and meant it. Inara had done something fancy to her hair that reminded Simon of watching his mother leave for high society functions on Osiris, and had lent Kaylee a dress made of shimmering blue material. Simon smiled at her open-mouthed wonder upon entering the ballroom, wistfully basking in her innocence.

“It’s so gorram pretty!” Kaylee squealed, gesturing at the lavish decorations which adorned the huge room. Simon beamed at her and took her gloved hand gently. “You wanna find our seats?” He led her to the seating plan, all the tables named after different core planets, and they found their names. “Hey, we’re on Osiris,” Kaylee told him.

They sat down, somewhat awkwardly, Kaylee smiling at the beautiful, affluent people surrounding them, swathed in elegant clothing, indulging in elegant conversation. “I feel awfully outta place!” she whispered. Simon put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t. You’re a million times more beautiful than any other woman in this room.” Kaylee put her hand on top of his. “You’re so sweet, Simon. A girl’s lucky if she’s got friends like you.”

Simon blushed and looked down. Kaylee grimaced, and moved her hand to his cheek. He looked up at her, breathing heavily. “Simon,” she whispered. “I know how you feel. ‘Cause I feel it too, only you’re too shy and sweet to say, and I…I ain’t never had a problem with sayin’ how I feel till you came along and made me all nervous and…I just wish we could stop with the hesitating and just do what we want, because what are we worrying about? We ain’t worrying about other people, just about each other, and it’s stupid!” She broke off, panting. He looked at her with admiration and confusion. She frowned, looked away.

They were silent. She looked back at him. He had his eyes downcast, was miserably stirring the multicoloured cocktail that had been placed in front of him. She sighed, moved forward and took hold of his face. He looked at her, eyes wide, and smiled as she gently pressed her mouth to his, and they kissed deeply, softly. When they broke apart, she grinned at him. “That was all it needed. Someone to take hold of the situation.” Simon’s stomach felt as if it was about to take flight as he smiled back at her.

“I..” he started. “Just say it,” she urged softly. “Worst that could happen is I slap ya.” He gulped and looked into her eyes, overcome with emotion. “I adore you, Kaylee.” She laughed, and seized him tight into a warm embrace.

After feasting on the food, which was so expensive and beautiful that Kaylee almost fell off her chair in wonder, and eating as many strawberries as it is possible for a mechanic’s stomach to hold, Simon plucked up the courage to ask Kaylee to dance with him. She agreed (“as if I could say no when you asked so politely”) and he led her by the hand to the dancefloor, full of couples swaying to the slow, wistful music being played by the immense group of musicians playing towards the back of the ballroom. Simon started awkwardly, unsure of just what to do with his feet, but Kaylee firmly helped him, giggling at his fumbling. “You’re not awful graceful, Simon,” she winked at him. “Oh, you make up for the both of us.” Her eyes shone as they danced close together, gently entwined, her head resting on his chest. He smiled and kissed her head, holding back the tears of relief and joy that he felt sparkling in his eyes.

*

“How was it?” Inara asked eagerly the next morning, as Kaylee stumbled, bleary-eyed, from her room. “It was…” Kaylee paused, thought, before breaking into a smile that lit up the room. Inara hugged her, laughing. “Oh, Kaylee. See, this goes to show that I am always right,” Inara teased. “Tell me everything! How was he? How was the food? Did you see Juliet DeMarque? Is she still married to Myllon?” Kaylee giggled. “He was so sweet and gorram wonderful, and the food was great, and no, I didn’t see her.” Inara hugged her tightly again. “You two have something special, I can just tell.” Kaylee nodded. “I really think we do.” They descended into girlish squeals, before Inara regained her composure, clearing her throat. “Now. Tell me EVERYTHING. With details.”

Simon stepped into the kitchen and found Jayne sitting at the table, with a mug. Simon eyed him warily. “I suppose you want to know what happened in indecent detail?” Jayne shrugged. “Maybe.” Simon busied himself in the kitchen. Jayne followed, moving in close to Simon. “Did you get any?” he hissed, conspiratorily. Simon stared at him, incredulous. Jayne laughed, and shrugged. “Gorram borin’ fool. Must be sly.” And he walked away, leaving Simon there, open-mouthed.

Apocalypse Ficathon

joshy — Sat, 22 May 2004 14:16:16 GMT

Title: Lethe's Dream
Written for: somefairytale in the Apocalypse Ficathon run by buffyx.
Requested: Buffy/Angel
Post some apocalyptic type event.
Angst, the ocean.
Notes:Biig hugs and thanks to ailsa_clare for the beta and title help!
I'm extreeemely nervous about this as it's pretty weird and different from anything I've ever written before. I reeally hope you like it (or at least don't hate it) Emily :)

In Greek mythology, the Lethe is one of the rivers that flow through the realm of Hades. Called the River of Oblivion, the shades of the dead had to drink from this river to forget about their past lives on earth. Their memories are not destroyed, but sent to another place. The pool of all these forgotten joys and sorrows forms a collective consciousness, called Lethe’s Dream.

Buffy watched the world drift away.

She’d lost. She’d failed.

But at least it was over.

The waters continued to swirl around her as she moved closer and closer to the end of the world.

“Buffy, behind you!” he’d yelled, his last words to her, his last words, as he exploded in a shower of dust, and Buffy, soaked and sobbing, sweat and blood drenched, continued to hack away hopelessly, knowing that it was lost, knowing that she had failed.

Fragments of flaming rock fell from the sky; landing in the water with a mighty crash aboard, let the water take her.

The night before. Imprinted on her mind forever. “I can’t do this,” she whispered. “It’s hopeless.” All her courage lost.
“You can do this.” Defiantly. Holding her. “I’m here. I’ll be with you, the whole time...”
Trembling, they lay together as storms battered the bleeding sky, as the roads started to crumble away. He felt her warmth and life, and he pressed them into himself, never wanting to lose them, never wanting to let her go. He could see the gushing falls sweeping her away from him, could see her slipping into the deep. He knew she had lost, he knew she had failed. But he’d stay with her, the whole time .

The ocean was freezing, bottomless, vast beyond belief. Buffy closed her eyes and thought of him.

The roof was ripped away by the storms. Rain spattered them, and Buffy looked up to see the sky aflame with red and gold sparks that ripped through it, cutting the earth’s flesh, tearing people away from each other like scabs. Angel held onto her, pressed her face into his chest, as the house crumbled around them. Grateful for him muffling her sobs, hiding her weakness to stop it from existing. She pulled away from him; he let her out from his grip. She crawled over the dust and stone covered bed, pulled the weapons out from under it. The last stand. She knew you have to make one, even if it’s hopeless. She’d rather die with a sword in her hand than trembling in a man’s arms.

Buffy survives longer than most people could underwater. She can survive a surprisingly long time in its depths . I’ve built up a resistance to drowning, her flickering mind laughs. Bubbles in her brain. I’m 17 again. The morning after is just as rain-soaked, but there’s no one left to help me now. The ability to move fingers, long forgotten.

She turns away from him, breathes deeply, preparing. Above them, the sun fails to rise. It has crumbled into fragments of burning rock, which plummet to Earth like unholy birds swooping down on unsuspecting rice fields in Calcutta and television studios in Hollywood and cracking mountains in Tibet. The night continues to reign, the absent moon rendering the sky utterly lightless. She’s grateful that Angel’s allowed to stay with her, just a little while longer.

Gasping. Endless shimmering, high above. So cold. His hands on her are so cold. She doesn’t remember what it’s like to sleep with someone warm. It’s been so long. So many years with no one but her and Angel, so many years of fighting. All for nothing. They had lost anyway.

Willow, she remembers. I’d almost forgotten her name.

They rise from the bed together. Buffy has a sword, an axe, and a crossbow slung around her shoulders. Angel is armed with a sword and fighting knives. They look at each other. The ground ripples in tiny earthquakes. They stay silent. Buffy moves to him, and closes her eyes as she kisses him, deep and slow. When she breaks the kiss, she squeezes his hand, shaking, and looks into his eyes. They stare back at her, full of anguish and desperation. She smiles weakly, and whispers, “I have to.” He nods, knows she’s right.

She can’t stop blinking. Fighting to keep her eyes open, even though there’s nothing left to see. Hop on a one-way bus to Deadbeat City, you sure as hell don’t need to be pretty. Bad poetry flashes in her mind, things to think. The situation is oddly familiar. Whenever Angel dies, it repeats itself. She buys a one-way ticket, tells the attendant to keep the change.

He doesn’t show up, of course he doesn’t. He’s too busy ending the world to show up and fight these two fallen heroes. He can see them, though, as they march towards an army of his servants, courageous to the last. He laughs, and tells them to leave the girl alive. She’s just so pretty.

“A welcoming party. How sweet,” Buffy says, softly, as they approach the mass of demons gathered in the spacious, dark courtyard. It was the centre of the town, full of bustling people, less than a day ago. Now it’s corpse-strewn, cracking apart , full of monsters. They smile at the scent of Buffy’s warm flesh.

Buffy glances at Angel, the fear and worry in her heart settling. It’s okay, now. Failing is okay. There’s honour in this escape route. She touches his hand lightly, whispers “Thank you.” He touches her cheek, and they stare at each other, memorizing the moment. Their connection breaks , remaining there forever. They run at the demons, yelling a battle cry as they dive into the fray.

Almost over. You’re almost there. Just relax. She can’t move her arms anymore, can’t move anything. No more bubbles. No more breathing. No more gasping. Limp, flat, still, cold.

Buffy screams in pain as a demon tears into her arm. She swings the axe and slices off his head. She hacks away at the creatures. Limbs fly, blood spurts, guts spatter the ground. They keep coming. She is glorious, triumphant, so powerful, and so beautiful. Angel watches her in awe in between kills. She’s so fragile and yet so strong.

“Buffy, behind you!” he yells. She swings her sword around and stabs the demon through the heart. She hears the knife shoot through Angel’s chest and gasps. He looks at her, wide-eyed, his mouth open. She thinks a word escapes his mouth as he disappears into dust, but she can’t make out what it is. The demons scatter, laughing.

She’s soon standing alone in the deserted courtyard, shaking. She can see, in the distance, the land falling apart in chunks, letting the water flood the world. They’d always known this was how it would be.

She’s always known she’d be alone at the end.

Firefly Ficathon

joshy — Wed, 28 Apr 2004 12:39:51 GMT

Title: Sugar High
Author: joshy
Written for the Firefly ficathon for raebird.
Not beta'd. Therefore nervous.

Kaylee giggled in anticipation as Inara led her by the hand to the dining area.

Inara smiled and gently nudged Kaylee into the room. Kaylee gasped in astonishment, and then squealed in delight. Inara burst into elegant laughter.

Kaylee ran to the table and picked up what lay on it, looking from what she held in her hand to Inara with an expression of utter disbelief.

“Is this…is this…”
“Real chocolate?” Inara completed the sentence for Kaylee, who was trembling in excitement. “It is. The client I was with on Redwing was the son of the owner of an enormous pharmaceutical corporation. He showered me in gifts, and as I can’t eat it… and I know how rarely you get real chocolate…”

Kaylee giggled in glee, and broke off a small chunk of chocolate. She nibbled it like a squirrel, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, a sheer sugared orgasm. Inara’s face was lit up with a beam, watching Kaylee’s innocent face delight in this simple pleasure.

Kaylee sat at the table, and began to slowly eat her bar of chocolate. She grinned at the sight of five more bars lying on the table, and looked up at Inara.

“I’m gonna save them for later.” Inara sat down next to Kaylee, stroking her hair as Kaylee daintily munched her chocolate.

“You are such an adorable creature, Kaylee.” Kaylee turned to Inara, her mouth covered in chocolate, and poked her tongue out. Inara laughed and leaned on Kaylee’s shoulder. Kaylee rested her head on top of Inara’s, and they sat in comfortable stillness, the only sounds Kaylee’s jaws softly munching and the hum of Serenity’s mighty engine.

“So, has anything happened with Simon?” Inara asked, softly. Kaylee shrugged sadly.

“Nothin’ at all. It’s not like I aint been trying! It’s just hard… We talk, and then it just…falls apart.” Inara stroked Kaylee’s hair.

“He adores you. It’s quite obvious. You just have to give him the confidence to move your relationship forward.”

“I’d like to!” said Kaylee, exasperatedly. “I just don’t know whether it’s the right time or place…I mean, he’s got to look after River an’ all…” Kaylee trailed off miserably.

Inara lifted her head and held Kaylee’s chin, looking directly into Kaylee’s wide, thoughtful eyes.

“If you spend all your time worrying about whether it’s the right circumstances, nothing will happen.” Inara stroked Kaylee’s cheek. “The only way you’ll get what you want is if you reach for it.” Kaylee nodded, a smiling blooming on her face.

“You’re right! I never been like this about anything before…I ain’t ever been shy, or nervous…but he makes me feel different.” Kaylee looked at Inara, grinning widely, and Inara felt as if her heart would burst with affection. “He’s special. When I’m around him, it’s like…everythin’ else stops…frozen in place…and there’s just us, and his dimples…”

Kaylee suddenly stopped speaking as Simon appeared in the doorway. Inara turned and looked at him, and Simon felt extremely nervous, as he was obviously intruding on a private moment. He gave them a little cautious smile, and walked past the table into the kitchen. Inara gave Kaylee a knowing look, as Kaylee watched Simon’s careful movements, watched him pour exact amounts of water from a jug into bottles. He was as precise in everything he did as he was in his work, Kaylee noticed.

“Best doctor in the ‘verse,” Kaylee muttered under her breath.

Among her excitement at the possibility of what Kaylee and Simon could share, Inara felt a twinge of sadness at what she could not have, at the world which created the illusion her life was based around, the world she was forbidden to touch. But her mask prevented this feeling from become noticeable, and she quickly brushed it aside, having become quite expert in hiding her lingering sadness.

“What are ya doin’ with all that water?” Kaylee asked Simon as he walked past them, carrying a plethora of bottles. His expression of sincere concern let through cracks of happiness, Inara noticed, as he talked to Kaylee.

“River’s not feeling too good. The drugs she’s taking…there are some side effects, like dehydration, that I’m just unable to prevent.” Kaylee nodded.

“You want me to come bring that water to her with you? If you think she’d like to talk to me…” Simon nodded happily.

“She would. She really likes you.” Kaylee giggled, and effortlessly took some of the water bottles that were weighing Simon down into her arms.

“Talk to you later,” Kaylee said to Inara, who winked at her. They turned away and began walking out of the room.

“Wait!” Kaylee turned back to Inara. “Take River some chocolate.” Kaylee laughed and took the bar that Inara was holding out for her.

Inara’s smile faded as Kaylee and Simon departed the room. She breathed deeply, and got up from the table, watching Simon and Kaylee walk together. Once they had disappeared from her view, she returned to her shuttle, pausing as she floated through Serenity’s long, deep, metallic corridor to breathe in the ship’s wondrous air of melancholy and energy. Inara sighed, loving the ship with all her soul, and yet hating it at the same time, for it seemed to her to be a symbol for all the aspects of her life she most adored and despised. Hopeful, brave and strong but world-weary, battle-worn, restless, and trapped in an endlessly repetitive cycle of events. Kaylee’s unfailing hope lit Inara’s mind with a warm glow, and she carried it all the way to her shuttle, where her next client was waiting on the Cortex to speak with her.

Kaylee peered around the corner of the sliding door, watching Simon gently pour water down River’s throat. River’s sweat-soaked hair hung in her face, and Simon pushed it away and kissed her forehead. River whimpered in pain.

“Simon, it hurts…”

“Shhhh, meimei,” Simon soothed, dabbing at her cheeks with a wet cloth. “You just need to sleep.” He gently lay her down on her bed, covering her with a thin blanket, leaving the damp cloth on her glistening cheeks.

“I’m going to stay with her, just sit there. In case she wakes up, or needs me,” Simon told Kaylee quietly as he slipped out of the room. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?” Kaylee nodded sadly, disappointment, mixed with anger at herself, rose in her stomach. Simon looked at her gratefully, and turned to go back in the room. Kaylee remembered Inara’s advice and jerked herself from her reverie of self-pity. She softly grabbed Simon’s arms.

“I’m going to sit with you.”

Simon’s face lit up with joy, slightly masked by his sadness, and his eyes were filled with silent but palpable thankfulness. Kaylee followed him into the room, and sat down next to him on the bench opposite the bed. She watched as he gazed mournfully at River, filled with admiration. Gently, she brought his head down onto her shoulder, her body buzzing with emotion, and they sat there, connected, warm, comforted, watching as River tossed and turned in uneasy sleep.

Spuffy Ficathon

joshy — Sat, 24 Apr 2004 08:16:41 GMT

Title: Communal Loneliness
Author: joshy
Written for: ooglymoogly, for the Spuffy ficathon
Rated: PG, for the word "crap". Omg hardcore.
The request was: One or Two Things You Want to See in the Fic: a very parental type discussion regarding Dawn, them realizing and acknowledging it (awkwardly, comfortably or both it's your choice!)
One or Two Things You Don't Want to See in the Fic: straying too far from canon (ie: sex, death, bad characterization *g*).
Note: I'm very nervous about this. I've never written Spuffy before. I don't really like Spuffy, mainly because I don't really like post-S5 Spike. I hope this is okay.

She cautiously walked through the dark, rain-soaked alley, clutching the stake in her back pocket with a sweaty hand.

From behind her came the noise of a snapping twig. “Great,” she thought, “I’m stuck in a lame horror movie.” Her fingers squeezed the stake tighter still.

The vampire lunged out of nowhere, a dark menacing shape erupting from the black night.

She gasped, and pulled out the stake. And ran away.

“Run faster, you sacks of crap!” Dawn squealed at her legs as she ran away from the demon, who was practically slavering in anticipation of devouring her.

She slipped on a patch of wet grass, and fell to the ground. The shape of the vampire towered over her. Dawn tried desperately to back away, but the vampire grabbed her arms and pinned them to the ground. His fangs began their typically slow descent to her neck. She flailed in his grip, but could not escape. Just before his fangs pricked her skin, the vampire exploded into a cloud of dust. Dawn looked up, grateful.

“Spike?”

“Hello poppet. What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Spike asked, not unkindly.

“I was just…out.” Spike arched his eyebrow.

“Out? At 3 a-bloody-m?”

She looked at him defiantly as she got up from the ground. “It’s none of your business. Anyway, I’m going home right now.”

He sighed. “Fine, don’t thank me for saving your life then.” She glared at him.

“You didn’t save me. I totally had that under control.”

“Right. Of course,” Spike smirked. She considered her answer, before poking her tongue out at him and turning to leave.

She suddenly turned back. “You wanna walk me home?” He grinned. She looked extremely relieved.

*

“So, I don’t suppose you’d wanna tell me what you’re doing wandering around at this time o’ the night. I mean, we all know what happened on your last little adventure.” Dawn fixed her stare on the ground. Spike didn’t press. Then she answered, quietly.

“I just needed to be alone. Away from there.” She looked at him with a piercing expression that made her look much older than 15. “They’re all trying to act so normal, it’s weird.”
“They’re just trying to look after you, niblet.”

Spike delicately opened the door, and Dawn entered cautiously. She smiled softly at him.

“Thanks.” He nodded.

“Go and sleep now, alright?” She nodded, and carefully ascended the stairs.

“Dawn?” Buffy’s voice made Dawn start. Buffy stood at the top of the stairs, clutching a blanket, her eyes wild and her face pale.

Dawn stuttered “I was…I was…” Spike attempted to save her.

“It’s alright, Dawn, go to sleep. I’ll talk to Buffy.” Buffy looked annoyed, but let Dawn pass her and go up the stairs. Buffy made sure Dawn had entered her room before she approached Spike.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Hey! No need to be so confrontational, love! I didn’t do anything. Just didn’t want you to give her a hard time is all.” Buffy put her hands on her hips and glared at him.
“So tell me what’s going on.” He smiled sweetly, just to annoy her. Her perfect face twisted into a scowl.

“I was out. I saw her getting attacked by a vampire. She was wandering around, alone.” To his utter surprise, Buffy suddenly fell down to the couch, rubbing her forehead, almost in tears.

“I don’t know what to do. It’s so hard. I’m trying…so hard. To keep everything normal. But it’s hard. Mom’s in Chicago for the week, and I just feel like she doesn’t know how much I…” Buffy broke off, staring at her feet. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” Spike’s heart broke a little. All he wanted was to touch her skin, to hold her in his arms and gently take off her clothes. He forced himself back to reality.

“It’s okay. You can tell me. I care about her too.” She looked at him warily. He noticed a change in her face, a softening.

“I know you do.”

“She’s gone through a lot. And she’s still just a kid. She’s gonna need you, Buffy. You are so strong. You’ll be able to help her, but only if you stay strong.” Buffy looked up, as if to the heavens.

“I love her so much. I can’t explain it…the bond between us. It’s visceral. I feel it.” He gulped, and watched her move. The way she so elegantly moved those immensely strong arms, rubbing her sides to keep herself warm.

“I know what that’s like,” he said.

Buffy fidgeted with her hands.

“When she found out she was The Key, I was so…scared, that we’d never be able to go back. That things would never be the same. That we’d lose her.”

Spike reached out and took her hand, and found, to his surprise, she didn’t throw him off her in disgust, rather she looked at him with mild surprise, and interpreted the act as one of friendship, and appreciated it.

“That won’t happen. You’ve both got so many people around you who love you both.” She smiled at him, and his heart soared: for this was a true smile, it was warm, and meaningful, and for a second, a beautiful second, he thought that maybe, one day, she could.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For bringing Dawn back.” she continued in her regular voice. The moment had faded. Her hand slipped out of Spike’s. She stood up, still clutching the blanket. “I should go to sleep.” For one of the few times in his entire existence as a vampire, Spike felt awkward. He had an image of himself and Buffy, curled up on the couch together, entwined in each other’s arms.

“If you want, I could stay…keep you company.” He reached out a hand to touch her side. She jumped back, looking at him strangely.

And he saw what he was in her eyes. A murderer. Just a killer. Nothing more.

She didn’t love him. She didn’t even like him.

She just tolerated him.

He was useful to her, sometimes. He gave information, and saved her sister from miscellaneous dangers. But he didn’t mean anything to her.

He suddenly knew, in that moment, with vivid intensity, that if he ever got his chip out, she would dust him in a second.

He looked at her, stunned, as the knowledge that he loved her with all his might and that she could never love him flooded through his body.

“I’ll…” he gestured towards the door, and gave up on the rest of the sentence. Spike walked out quickly, his coat flowing behind him. Buffy watched him go, confused, before she shrugged her shoulders, and went upstairs to sleep, alone.

Buffy ficathon

joshy — Thu, 01 Apr 2004 02:30:04 GMT

Title: Made Up
Pairing: Buffy/Cordelia
Rating: PG13
Timeline: Mid-season 3
Notes: Written for topazangel in the Buffy ficathon. The request was for snarkiness and make-up advice. Hope it's okay!

She was bleeding again.

She sighed, and pulled up her skirt slightly to look at the wound. She heard Percy, jock jackass extraordinaire, moan softly behind her. Buffy ignored him, and slightly cringed at the blood spattering from her leg onto the floor. She put up her hand, asked to be excused, and walked out of the classroom, ignoring the concerned and confused looks of her classmates, who watched a red trail follow her out of the room.

Buffy opened the door to the bathroom, and sat down on the beat-up old chair which, Sunnydale High legend told, had been the location of the first ever birth in the school. Her leg didn’t really hurt, but the fact that it wouldn’t stop bleeding was really annoying her. The demon she had faced the night before, while fairly easy to dispatch (his neck was as easy to snap in half as a cucumber), had been gifted with some nasty knives sprouting out of its arms, one of which found its way into Buffy’s ankle. Giles had bandaged it up, but blood still leaked from the wound.

“Shit.”

Blood stained Buffy’s new boots.

“I knew I should have waited until these were on sale.”

She inelegantly walked over to the sink, grabbed a wad of paper towels, and pressed them to the wound. She made a mental note to see if Giles’ research had turned up anything about the knife having mystical properties. As she sat, with blood soaking up into the tissues, the door to the bathroom opened. Cordelia walked in, an impatient, frustrated look on her face.

She regarded Buffy with disdain as she marched over to the sink, placed her purse down and daintily began to empty it of many pink and purple objects. Buffy tried to cover her leg with her arm.

Cordy began to coat her lips in lipgloss, pausing to look at Buffy. “What are you doing, just sitting there like some kind of homeless person with a plumbing fetish?”

Buffy attempted a scornful smile, but a sharp jab of pain in her leg forced a moan out of her mouth. Cordelia looked at her in shock and moved back.

“Ew! I thought only boys and lesbos did that in school! At least have the decency to do it in one of the cubicles, Pamela.”

Buffy furrowed her brow. “Pamela? There’s no gay icon called Pamela.”

Cordy looked at her incredulously. “Fine. Martha?”

Buffy shook her head. “There’s no Martha either…That’s really not the issue. I’m not…(she whispered the next word) masturbating in school. And I’m not a lesbian either.”

Cordy raised an eyebrow.

“Sure, you and Willow keep sneaking off during class because you’re growing marijuana behind the gym.”

Buffy nearly laughed. Cordelia gave Buffy a smile that was almost warm.

“You know, you should smile more often,” Cordy said, in a tone of mock-helpfulness. “It makes you at least 7 per cent more attractive. And for a girl like you, that 7 per cent will make all the difference.”

Cordy flashed her gleaming teeth at Buffy, before whipping out her eyeshadow and beginning to lay it on.

“So, what are you doing in here? I can tell you’re not reapplying your make-up, because…”

Cordy glanced at her, and grinned.

“Oh, I just…I…”

Buffy’s search for an explanation was in vain, as blood seeped from the tissues hidden behind her arm, and began spattering on to the floor.

Cordy jumped.

“Ewwwww! Don’t you use tampons?”

Buffy looked up at her, disgusted, and moved her arm from her leg, revealing the wound.

“Oh,” said Cordy. “What happened?”

Buffy shrugged. “Got stabbed.”

Cordy gasped. “Was it that creepy janitor guy who hangs out in the parking lot?” Buffy frowned.

“No. It was a demon.”

Cordy looked vaguely disappointed. “Oh. I’ve been trying to get him arrested ever since he squeezed my ass.”

Buffy held back a giggle. Cordy finished applying her eye shadow and walked over to Buffy.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to go and tell someone to go and get the nurse or something?”

Buffy shook her head.

“I’m fine. In a minute, I’ll be able to get up again. Just…it’s just started hurting really badly.”

Cordy looked thoughtful.

“I know what’ll make you feel better!”

Buffy looked up at her, a bad feeling growing in her chest.

“What?” she asked slowly, cautiously.

“If you don’t feel pretty, you’ll feel shitty,” Cordy replied, sing-song. “It’s a well-known fact. Can you stand?”

“Huh?”

Without waiting for an answer, Cordy hauled Buffy to her feet and dragged her over to the mirror, the paper tissues falling to the ground.

“Look at yourself!”

Buffy looked.

Black bags under her eyes. Tangled, dirty hair. Pale skin.

“Wow. I really do look like crap,” Buffy said quietly.

Cordy nodded vigorously. “Did you even moisturize this morning?”

Buffy looked down. Cordelia shook her head, her heart full of pity for this lost soul.

“Here,” Cordy said, softly.

She patted concealer under Buffy’s eyes, and covered Buffy’s face in thick M.A.C. foundation.

“There. You look a little better already. And I’ll bet your leg’s feeling better.”

Buffy looked down in disbelief. Blood was no longer seeping from the wound. The pain had lessened.

“Well…uhhh...” Cordy giggled. “Don’t worry. You don’t need to give me the satisfaction of being right.”

Cordy looked down, her voice quieter.

“I don’t really need any more ego boosts.”

She brightened up again.

“Now the finishing touches!”

She pulled out her eyeshadow and carefully applied it.

“This had to be imported from Italy…I hope you feel honored.”

After the eyeshadow, Cordy pulled out a small blue bag, filled with a dizzying variety of different colored lipglosses. Cordy looked at Buffy thoughtfully.

“I think we’ll go with something subtle. You don’t wanna be drawing too much attention to yourself.”

Cordy coated Buffy’s lips with a soft pink, and then began to pack away all her make-up, carefully sorting them by price.

Buffy looked at herself in the mirror, and felt a genuine smile creep up on her.

“That’s what I wanted to see. You might even go up to nine per cent when you’re all shiny.”

Buffy laughed.

“I don’t get why you’re being so nice to me.”

Cordy bit her lip.

“I don’t get it either.”

She moved a tiny bit closer to Buffy. Buffy gulped, and breathed heavily. Cordy’s scent filled her nose, the scent of imported perfume on this All-American girl.

“I’m feeling kinda…strange…today”, Cordy said slowly, her dark eyes fixed on Buffy.

“Tense,” Cordy continued.

Buffy was filled with an unfamiliar urge, as she gazed into Cordy’s eyes and felt desire fill her.

“Maybe I can help.” She moved in to kiss Cordelia.

Their lips almost met, but in the last second, an endless, sweat-soaked moment, before they did Cordelia pulled away and stepped back. Buffy looked down, confused at what had happened, lost for words. Cordy looked at Buffy sadly.

“We don’t wanna smudge your lipgloss.”

She walked out of the bathroom, leaving Buffy shaking, and alone.