Sandy's Musings of the Moment

Buffyverse Bingo Card

sandy_s — Fri, 14 Jun 2019 02:45:27 GMT

Formidable	Honesty	Warm	Badass	Bribery
Bath	Fate	Eye contact	Nightmare	Domestic
Age difference	Exhaustion	FREE SPACE	Silhouette	Explode
Favorite	Vicious	Masks	Watching helplessly	Ancestor
Voiceless	Sanctuary	Good luck charm	Crime	Discover

New and finished fics...

sandy_s — Sat, 11 Nov 2017 03:33:55 GMT

So, I finished Taking Chances, which you can find here and here. This one has turned out to be my longest fic ever.

And I wrote two reunion fics for the Elysian Fields Reunion Challenge. The first is A Tale of the Summers Sisters and Their Vampyre, which you can find here and here.

And I'm working on A Small Boat on the Ocean, which is also a reunion fic, about Spuffy having a child in a realistic way based on swifthorse's challenge. It's a WIP: here.

Spuffy writing...

sandy_s — Thu, 01 Jun 2017 14:00:01 GMT

...I finished Finding the Way Home! After 14 years of WIP no man's land; it's done and posted on EF and AO3. I feel relief and am glad it's done. You know how you always feel a nagging bit of guilt at things undone? I can toss that bit aside! Yay! Sorry. lol It was super hard to come back to that one and finish it as the plot was so complicated. OffYourBird was super helpful and betaed it for me, so it's super shiny and polished. And there are new parts in the beginning and middle that made it much better.

And I started a new fic called Taking Chances. Now that I've put it out there in the ether, I have to finish it. I'm 71 pages in but only posting the beginning parts so far.

Seasonal Spuffy Stuff

sandy_s — Thu, 04 May 2017 15:02:15 GMT

So, yesterday, I subbed for megan_peta and posted stuff on seasonal_spuffy!

This was a fun year because it's the 20-year anniversary, and so, I wrote a bunch of stuff. What made this even more wonderful was that eyesthatslay collaborated with me on a very special project. We created a story-art project together, and it really was together as she and I discussed ideas and planned the plot. What made it more special is that some of you helped write it, too, by giving me ideas on locations/little details. Anyway...linkage follows!

Something Special, Coming Up with a Plan - Somewhere in Texas
Something Special, Day One of the Plan, Somewhere in Arkansas
Something Special, Day Two, Somewhere in Ohio
Something Special, Day Three, Somewhere in Japan
Something Special, Day Four, Somewhere in Michigan
Something Special, Day Five, Somewhere in England

If anything, check out eyesthatslay's beautiful artwork! The manips she created are just beautiful and amazing (and not easy to create).

I wrote a companion piece for Something Special called Regarding Grief, and while you don't have to read it first, I wanted to write a fic about the parallels of Spike grieving Buffy and Buffy grieving Spike with Dawn as the witness to both. eyesthatslay created a gorgeous banner for this piece as well.

Regarding Grief, Part One
Regarding Grief, Part Two

And last but not least, a little piece, perhaps a little too on point for the theme, but here it is nonetheless.

As Time Goes By

Hope you enjoy... :o)

Interesting article on Buffy and Spike...

sandy_s — Tue, 04 Apr 2017 01:38:59 GMT

Nice Little Spuffy Essay

I enjoyed reading this today and thought I'd share...

And golly people have really strong opinion about season six in that Facebook community. SMG may have felt uncomfortable with the direction her character went, but I thought season six was well done for what it was. Looking back, I even don't mind the addicted Willow storyline.

Fic question

sandy_s — Thu, 30 Mar 2017 20:44:30 GMT

Writing a fic about little moments between Buffy and Spike. Comment below with your fave small moments that meant a lot. Please? For example, when Spike brings Joyce flowers following her death but doesn't include a card... The big moments I remember but the little subtle ones are the ones I'm looking for! Thanks in advance! 😄

Fight scenes...

sandy_s — Thu, 23 Mar 2017 15:39:51 GMT

...are hard to write. That is all. 😜

And I'm praying for my friends in the U.K.... ❤so scary and sad.

Hello Goodbye, Epilogue...

sandy_s — Sat, 11 Mar 2017 18:18:01 GMT

Wrote this for the 20 year anniversary of BtVS (ironically the date that I chose as my cat, Meagan's birthday, which I never knew!). Decided the fic wasn't as bad or offensive as all that and it will only be posted on EF.

Epilogue

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

sandy_s — Fri, 15 Jan 2016 04:27:57 GMT

Happy birthday, velvetwhip!

There's a pressie for you here! I wrote it tonight...it was originally supposed to be a couple of hundred words, and it turned into well, 1400. Sorry it's unbetaed! But I wanted you to get it for your day! *HUGS*

Snowflake Challenge

sandy_s — Sun, 10 Jan 2016 20:04:52 GMT

Okay, I'm going to try this and do all the entries in one post!

Day 1

In your own space, talk about why you are doing the Fandom Snowflake Challenge? What drew you to it as a participant? What do you hope to accomplish by doing these challenges?

Mostly I want to do it so I can give kudos to some people on my flist who deserve kudos! I hope there are some kudos challenges... :o)

Day 2

In your own space, create a list of at least three fannish things you'd love to receive, something you've wanted but were afraid to ask for - a fannish wish-list of sorts. Leave a comment in this post saying you did it. Include a link to your wish-list if you feel comfortable doing so. Maybe someone will grant a wish.

Oh, man. This is tough because I don't like asking for things...lol. *sigh* Do I have to do this one? Hmmmm...well, I don't expect to receive any of these at all.

Well, I would maybe like a banner for one of my fics... my friends who used to spoil me with banners for my stories have left fandom.

Can that be all now? lol

Day 3

In your own space, post a rec for at least three fanworks that you have created. It can be your favorite fanworks that you've created, or fanworks you feel no one ever saw, or fanworks you say would define you as a creator.

This is a tough one, too. I don't really have favorite fanworks I've created because each story is special to me for one reason or another.

1. This year, I'm pretty proud of finishing Setting Up House because I got inspired to finish it after watching Season Six and Seven again while I was doing IVF treatments in Denver. I was determined to finish it for Seasonal Spuffy since it was the 10th anniversary round and I hadn't worked on it in 10 years. I think I hammered the the last 30,000 words or so in September and spent October reworking/editing the earlier chapters without changing them too much.

2. One of the fics that seems to have hit home emotionally for a lot of people (that told me anyway) was Peripheral Vision because it's from the POV of Buffy and Spike's daughter. I wrote it for ghostgirl13 for her birthday a long time ago, and I remember that she really liked it for personal reasons. And I also wrote this fic after my Oma passed away...it was sort of a sublimation of my own grief because we lost touch with her for several years when she developed dementia (for lots of reasons too personal to post). When she passed, I think there was a lot left unresolved for me, and writing this fic really helped me.

3. The final fic that's really special to me is Harnessing Sunlight, which was written for the reverse Artathon on watchersdiaries. I used one of my friend's banners to inspire the fic, and several of my fandom friends really helped beta the story and help me through it. It was an amazing experience! It also was a fic that sort of hit some of my kinks, too...post-apocalyptic and scifi-ish! (Yes, I'm a closet Star Trek fan and Star Wars, too, but everyone is a Star Wars fan these days.)

Day 4

In your own space, create a fanwork. Make a drabble, a ficlet, a podfic, or an icon, art or meta or a rec list. Arts and crafts. Draft a critical essay about a particular media. Put together a picspam or a fanmix. Write a review of a Broadway show, a movie, a concert, a poetry reading, a museum trip, a you-should-be-listening-to-this-band essay. Compose some limericks, haikus, free-form poetry, 5-word stories. Document a particular bit of real person canon. Take some pictures. Draw a stick-figure comic. Create something.

Hmm...I don't have anything new right now! But I'll post something here once I finish it!

Day 5

Leave feedback for a fanwork. Or multiple fanworks. It can be as simple as I liked this to a detailed list of all the things you loved about the fanwork. The key is to leave some sort of feedback.

If you've already left feedback in the course of a previous challenge, it totally counts. But you're free to leave more feedback.

Will do! I have some fics to catch up on today, namely one by the_moonmoth and velvetwhip! Yay! It will be my goal by the end of today.

Day 6

In your own space, create your own challenge. What’s something you want to see more people doing in fandom? Is there something you’ve tried that you think other people would enjoy if they gave it a go? Dare your friends to try it out, and have fun with it.

Hmmm... I'm not sure about this because I sorta still feel out of the loop on the way fandom is now.

I guess maybe one of my goals is to meet new people in fandom because most of my previous fandom friends have left fandom! Maybe that could be a good challenge, too...connecting old with new!

Day 7

In your own space, share a favorite piece of original canon (a TV episode, a song, a favorite interview, a book, a scene from a movie, etc) and explain why you love it so much.

Surprisingly, I'm not choosing a Buffy/Spike scene because there are too many to choose from.

I love the scene at the end of Graduation, Part Two where Giles tries to engage Buffy in conversation...

Giles puts a hand on her shoulder: "Are you all right?"
Buffy lays her head to one side: "I'm tired."
Giles smiles: "I should imagine so. It's been quite a couple of days."
Buffy tiredly: "I haven't processed everything yet. (with a small laugh) My brain isn't really functioning on the higher levels. (takes a deep breath) It's pretty much: fire bad; tree pretty."
Giles shakes his head: "Understandable. Well, when it's working again congratulate it on a good campaign. You did very well."
Buffy nods: "Thank you. I will."
Giles puts his glasses on: "I ah… I managed to ferret this out of the wreckage. Now, it may not interest you, but… (reaches into his jacket and pulls out a high school diploma) I'd say you earned it." Hands it to Buffy who looks at it and takes it.
Giles taking a deep breath and looking around: "There is a certain (takes off his glasses) dramatic irony that's attached to all this. A Synchronicity that borders on… on predestination, one might say."
Buffy looks at him: "Fire bad; tree pretty.'

I almost always think of this scene when I've gone through something big or after a long day with lots of stress at work, putting out fires on the inpatient unit where I work. It's so fitting and true!

Day 8

Comment to someone you haven't ever interacted with before or introduce yourself to someone you've interacted with and friend/follow them.

Done!

Day 9

In your own space, set some goals for the coming year. They can be fannish or not, public or private.

1. To read more fanfic... There's so much now and I feel intimidated about where to start with this. If anyone has any recs, I'm much more a plot-driven reader and love me some Buffy/Spike...although I'm open to other pairings, too, now thanks to velvetwhip. *hugs*

2. Finish maybe another series that I never finished.

3. Have my husband help me get Photoshop on my new computer so I can finish my website and make more art.

Day 10

In your own space, post a rec for fannish and/or creative resources and spaces. Tell us where you go to dig up canon facts for your fandom, or where you get all the juicy details about your favorite ship. Where do you like to hang out and squee like a squeeing thing?

Hmmm...I don't really have a resource place that I often use. Google is my friend if I want to look up something...that and I ask my flist! I used to know all sorts of resources but many of those places have shut down.

I must say that I'm so pleased that su_herald is still around after all these years! I've been using them a LOT lately to find stories to read and fun articles/meta to read, so huge thanks to everyone who runs that community and keeps it alive! So many kudos to you!

A fic nomination!

sandy_s — Sun, 10 Jan 2016 18:53:15 GMT

And I'm SO excited to be nominated at the Willowy Goodness Awards for Home is Where Your Heart Is! Thank you to whoever did that! *HUGS* I'm so excited and haven't been nominated for an award since well, in forever!

And I'm sure how to create a link on an image anymore...lol.

Operation Christmas (2/2)

sandy_s — Sun, 03 Jan 2016 03:08:31 GMT

Okay...sorry it's so late! I finally posted Part Two over at noel_of_spike! Happy New Year! :o)

Operation Christmas (1/2)

sandy_s — Sun, 20 Dec 2015 21:17:58 GMT

I just posted a fic to noel_of_spike! You can find it here... Merry Christmas! I'll be working on Part Two...

Home is Where Your Heart Is

sandy_s — Sun, 20 Dec 2015 15:56:11 GMT

I just posted my whichwillow fic on AO3! I hope you enjoy it.

Old Buffy Vids

sandy_s — Wed, 02 Dec 2015 17:49:03 GMT

Hat I Got for Christmas - petzipellepingo reminded me about this one!

Buffy Abridged - all of BtVS set to the William Tell Overture.

I can't believe these two were on You Tube!

I miss all the old vids that I had downloaded to my computer long ago. Anyone out there remember any of the old vids? I have images in my mind of old ones but no memory of the artists/titles.

ETA:
velvetwhip shared:
1. My West Hollywood Lifestyle - makes me laugh every time!
2. Buffy Vs. Edward - so perfect...heheh.

rebcake shared:
1. Song of the Count, which I forgot how R-rated it is...lol. So funny!
2. I Touch Myself - OMG...this one is a classic! :o)

And then, I found this old one, too by the same artist as the one who did Song of the Count:
Barbie Girl - about the Buffybot with some cheesy special effects but I forgot about it!

And another old Angel fave:
Boulevard of Broken Dreams

My Seasonal Spuffy Offerings

sandy_s — Mon, 23 Nov 2015 01:41:18 GMT

It was so much fun to get to participate again after so long and especially nice for the 10th Anniversary!

I finished two WIP's and wrote a new fic. Plus, there are a bunch of new icons and a wallie!

Setting Up House:
Chapters 1-15 can be found on here on AO3.
Sixteenth, Be Honest with Your Ex. . . and Yourself
Seventeenth, Be Civil to Uninvited Guests. . . Within Reason
Eighteenth, When Company Becomes Too Much, Strategize to Get Rid of Them
Nineteenth, Appreciate Coming Home After a Trip Away
Twentieth, Take Care of Each Other
Epilogue the First, Three Months Later
Epilogue the Second, Three More Months Later

Finding Spike:
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four

An Uncomplicated Christmas:
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four

Wallpaper

Icons

Old Spuffy Icons

sandy_s — Sun, 15 Nov 2015 00:37:37 GMT

Thanks to cordykitten, I have all my old Spuffy icons which were lost to the ether when I had my computers stolen. Please note that a lot of the brushes and textures used, I no longer have and do not know who created them. These are also in no particular order, so you will see the good, the bad, and the ugly as I learned Photoshop....

There are 256 Spuffy icons with a couple of doubles...I tried to catch them but didn't get them all. These are snag-able. :o) Just please credit if you do.

sandy_s — Sat, 07 Nov 2015 20:33:23 GMT

Posted chapter 15 of Setting Up House over on AO3. Now the seven remaining chapters are new and will be posted on seasonal_spuffy on free for all day and my posting day. :o)

sandy_s — Sat, 17 Oct 2015 20:49:13 GMT

At the Texas A&M/Alabama game...first game in the new stadium... Whoa... It's big!!!

What to Expect, Part Three of Three

sandy_s — Sun, 20 Sep 2015 03:47:29 GMT

This is totally unbetaed because none of my old betas are still around. :o) This is also an old unfinished fic that I found in hunting down my other fics to have on my computer (lost them all, you know).

Part One
Part Two

Title: What to Expect
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss owns all…
Summary: Set after “Intervention.” Buffy takes care of Spike after the kiss.
Dedication: This fic is for __tiana__!
Author's Note: The third and final part is back to Buffy POV.

Part Three
Xander, Willow, and Dawn overheard Spike’s question, and they’re witness to my ministrations. Bandages and medical supplies litter the carpet at my feet.

I expect Spike to smirk, posture, and probably brag about me kissing him.

But he doesn’t.

I’m not sure if it’s because he genuinely cares about my little sister or if he is really too physically hurt to think of a witty come back.

Somehow I doubt these are the reasons he stays silent.

I kind of wish he would say something because then, I don’t have to figure out what to say. My busy brain is darting from one thought and excuse to the next, and my heart is hammering furiously in my chest.

Stupid fight or flight reaction.

Somehow I latch onto a coherent thought and that thought exits my mouth, “Spike was a mess. . . ‘thrashed’ as you said.”

My eyes flick to Xander, and he won’t make eye contact at me. He stares with tangible hatred at the vampire balanced on the sofa next to me.

If hatred was a demon, Xander’s would be loud and dangerous with some sort of magical ability that I don’t know how to defeat and neither does he.

“I didn’t mean for you to bring him here.” Xander sounds like he does when he’s upset about my associations with Angel. “And he’s half naked. What’s that about? I mean, yeah, he didn’t cave in to Glory, but that doesn’t mean you should cater to his disgusting fantasies about you.”

Willow is more tentative, and she edges in front of Xander, tugging the long sleeve of her blouse over her hand. “Buffy, we just redid the threshold spell.”

Her unsure approach leaves me more speechless than Xander’s anger.

What do I say to them? I kissed Spike because he saved Dawn from being captured by Glory? That won’t make much sense to any of them.

The kiss hardly makes sense to me, and I’m the one who deliberately chose the action.

Spike glances from one person to the next, no doubt putting the pieces together as he always does.

Shakily rising to his feet, he winces but tries to hide the pain.

My treacherous heart skips in concern.

His voice is a touch hoarse. “Right. Well, I’ll just be going now.”

Straightening his shoulders and proudly jutting up his chin, he limps toward the trio blocking the doorway, not very successfully trying to put his usual swagger into his step. He wisely chooses to pass along Dawn’s side to avoid further confrontation with Xander.

“Wait.” Dawn puts a small hand on Spike’s purple and indigo-covered forearm.

Spike is startled at her touch. “What, pigeon?”

He’s always warm and less irritable with Dawn. Even when I got mad at him for helping Dawn break into the Magic Box, he defended himself, yes, but he protected her even then.

What does this mean about Spike? If he does care about my sister, I want to understand why.

Dawn continues, “You should stay. It’s too sunny out there and you’re all hurt and stuff. You might be more likely to go poof. And Buffy already got you here. You should rest and leave tomorrow.”

Spike’s whole body softens, and the emotion in his face lays wide open for her. He doesn’t look anywhere but into her eyes as he replies, “You’ll have to ask big sis.”

Xander clears his throat. “Leave Dawn alone. Don’t try any of your vampire thrall tactics on her.”

Spike snorts and manages to cover his grimace by bracing himself with the doorframe behind him. “’Thrall tactics?’ That’s a Dracula deal. . .”

Moving to lean heavily on the wall, he rolls his eyes thoughtfully to the ceiling, sticking out a finger to punctuate his addendum, “Well, and Dru, but Dru’s is different. . . less poncy. ‘Sides Dawn here wouldn’t fall for something like that. She’s too smart.”

My protest comes out louder than I want, “Hey!”

“Wasn’t talking about you. It’s different with Dracula and Slayers. Unlike with Bug Boy here.”

“Hey!” Xander echoes, but the effort is weak because he’s embarrassed.

Spike grins, and somehow I know he can’t help himself.

Aim, shoot, score.

Willow is ever the peacemaker and offers a compromise, “So he stays the night. We all stay here, too.”

Her voice skips when she sees Xander’s glare. “T-to make sure he doesn’t make a move on Buffy and to make sure that Glory doesn’t get Spike while he’s all injured. We can re-do the magicks tomorrow.”

Dawn pipes up, “I like that idea.”

“That’s because you have a crush on Buffy’s crazy stalker vampire,” Xander retorts.
As soon as he says it, I can tell he immediately regrets the words. . . doesn’t mean them. He’s reacting and not thinking. He probably wishes Dawn still had a moon-eyed crush on him. What he doesn’t know is that she probably does.

Spike and Dawn glare at him, and Willow’s mouth hangs open a little in astonishment at the line he’s crossed. She chews her lip.

My mind is coming back online now, so I find firm words to grasp onto, “Okay, okay. We’ll be fine for tonight. Dawn and I will sleep in the same room for tonight, and Spike’s in no condition to make a move on me, so he’ll stay in Mom’s room or downstairs. Xander, I love you, but I’m going to ask you and Will to go. We. . . I just don’t need the tension right now with everything going on with Glory. Spike will go back to his crypt tomorrow after he regains some of his strength back.”

A little breath escapes me, and I search the room for the aftermath of my speech.

Several emotions war in Xander’s eyes, and he purposefully unclenches the fist that had balled up at his side. Shoving his hands in his jacket pockets, his words are clipped, “Fine. Will, let’s go.”

I can tell he wants to say more, but he’s holding himself back.

Worry in her big green eyes, Willow tucks a strand of scarlet hair behind one ear and searches her purse for her car keys. They rattle against her palm. “Call me if you need anything.”

Relief washes over me. “I will.”

She and I exchange small apologetic smiles.

As soon as they are out the door, Dawn slumps her shoulders and heaves a sigh. “Thank goodness.”

She turns to Spike. “Thank you for. . .”

Spike interrupts her, dismissing the significance of his actions to protect her, “Anytime, love.”

“For the record, I don’t have a crush on you ‘cause you’re all old and stuff.”

He chuckles. “Got that, pet. We have an understanding.”

So is that all it is. . . tit for tat? He helps my sister in exchange for what? To get closer to me?

Not too long ago Spike was deliberately and awkwardly trying to make sure he earned points for not eating attack victims.

I have to remind myself of these things to keep my head clear.

Dawn derails my thinking by announcing, “I don’t know *what* is going on between the two of you, but Xander’s right. It’s more than just a little weird. First, you.” She gestures at Spike.

His surprised expression is tinged with vague amusement.

Dawn shoves a hip out and ticks off his transgressions with her fingers. “You have a huge crush on my sister and start following her around all the time to prove that you’re worthy. You steal her pictures and stuff, and then you tie her up and offer to kill Dru to profess your love. And then, you build a robot of her. . . to have sex with or something. By the way, that’s just eww. And you.”

Her fingers motion at me in a similar fashion. “Spike does all that bad stuff, and you keep letting him work with everyone. Then, when you finally magically kick him out of the house, you end up kssing him and bringing him back here when he gets all wounded and stuff. There are *way* too many mixed signals going on here. I care about you both, but I give up, and I’m going to go upstairs.”

My sister doesn’t give either of us a chance to respond, her feet already trudging up the stairs as she calls down, “Work it out.”

Well, my friends and sister were a nice distraction from Spike.

Now I’m left alone with him.

He remains leaning against the wall but sags to the ground, a soft moan escaping his lips and a deep cough rattling his chest as his behind reaches the floor. He must have been trying hard to hold it together. I comprehend that he can probably be himself around me.

Before I quite realize what I’m doing, I’m squatting at his side, careful not to touch him. The earlier ease between us is gone. Am I giving him mixed signals? “You okay?”

Spike’s eyes are closed, his head back, but he murmurs, “She’s right, you know. They all are. Don’t know why you’re being so. . . .” A wave of pain stops him for a moment, but he finishes, “Nice to me after everything I’ve done.”

Maybe I am as mixed up as Dawn alluded to. I don’t know how to answer his query.

So I find myself leaning on the wall next to him with my hands moving over the smooth baseboards and my eyes shutting to mirror him. My words are honest, “I don’t know.”

For some reason, my mind flashes to the night I found out about how serious things were for my mom. When I was crying on the porch, Spike refused to go away. Instead, he joined me on the back steps for until I cried out all my tears. . . he was there for me, more present and still than he’s ever been with me.

"Because you’ve shown compassion to me and to Dawn when we needed it the most.” I hesitate but ask, “Why?”

I hear Spike shift. “Why what?”

“Why are you caring toward us?” Is it because I’m the Slayer, and you’ve always gotten your rocks off on messing with Slayers?

I feel nervous when he doesn’t answer right away, so I continue, “It’s hard. . . to know what to expect from you sometimes. I mean, you’re predictable in a lot of ways, but in others. . . when you’re kind. . . when you do unselfish things, it’s confusing.”

You see, these things make you more than a soulless creature in my mind.

More silence and then, “I don’t mean to be confusing, pet. I’m just following my emotions. . . and I think I’ve always had that. . . compassion in me. . . for the ones I care about.”

This time the silence feels companionable. . . comforting.

His next words are thoughtful , “To be honest, you confuse me, too. The little bit, I get her, but you. . . I still don’t know why you kissed me. . . why you’re playing doctor. I get what you said about helping Dawn being real and all, but you didn’t have to kiss me.”

“I guess I wanted you to know that it meant something to me. . . that it wasn’t a farce like the time Willow spelled us or. . . with the robot. I wanted to reinforce the good that I see in you.”

His voice is rough and low when he asks, “Trying to convince yourself or me?”

I try to wrap my mind around what he’s asking. “Of what?”

“That what you see. . . what you feel is real?” His earnestness is palpable and free of snark or sarcasm.

I can’t answer his question, so I’m silent.

Then, his cool lips slide tenderly over mine as he returns my earlier kiss. He doesn’t press to deepen the gesture of affection, and almost before I comprehend what is happening and can open my eyes, his touch is gone, and he grunts as he pushes himself off the floor.

“Gonna lie down on the sofa if you don’t mind. Get some shut eye.”

Heat flows into my cheeks, and I scramble to stand and offer him assistance.

He ducks his head. “Nah. I got it.”

I watch as he hobbles to his destination and cautiously eases his bruised but bandaged body down. He closes his eyes again, and satisfied that he is settled, I head for the stairs to join my sister.

His voice barely reaches my ears as my foot touches the bottom step, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being real. . . not just when we talked but when you took care of me.”

Even though he can’t see me, I turn back with a smile on my face. “You’re welcome.”

My feet are silent on the stairs.

I’m still not sure what to expect from Spike and don’t think he knows how to handle things with me, but today, I feel like we made a good start.

Funny that we could be most honest with our eyes closed.

We might have to try that more often.

9-19-15

Yay! I finished part three of an unfinished fic...first thing to post in a long time. It feels so nice to write again. I've written 40 pages of my other series and just have Epilogue to write now, but I'm saving all that newness for seasonal_spuffy.

"Beneath You" fics of old

sandy_s — Sat, 15 Sep 2012 18:23:16 GMT

I'm feeling in a Spuffy mood lately and thought I'd share some really really old Spuffy fics on the fantas_magoria! Really sorry for the typos (am an English minor from long ago but these are un-betaed).

Wide Open
Title: Wide Open
Author: Sandy S.
Rating: PG-13 (I guess?)
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Joss owns all.
Summary: Set after "Beneath You" in season seven of BtVS. S/B. Response to "Eyes" challenge.

Been a while since I did one of these, and since I'm feeling restless...

* * *

She wants to close her eyes...is desperate to blink away the wide open soul before her...

She wants to scream at him, clinch her fists, and pound him until he bursts into whirlpools of dust.

Most of all, she wants to run from the scene before her.

But she can't do any of those things.

Her nose is filled with the sharp smoky smell of decay, regret, sacrifice, and...love...

...not the pity she expected.

Her body lurches forward without her usual Slayer's grace, and without turning her eyes, she helps him off the cross to burn no more.

Art by Aydin
Soul Fashion
Rating: PG-13, for mild language
Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss and UPN. I own nothing.
Spoilers: through the first two episodes of season 7 (written right after "Beneath You" aired)
Summary: Buffy takes Spike somewhere to help him out. Way AU and unlikely to happen on the show. . .
Author’s Note: This story is an answer to a challenge set forth by Laura, webmistress of Yummy Sushi Pajamas, to write a story in which Spike and Buffy go shopping for clothes.

* * *

“I don’t want to go here.” Spike ducks his head and attempts to turn away like a small child afraid I might hit him if he displeases me.

In response to his protest, I grab his arm, intent on dragging him in. “Well, we’re going in anyway. It must be done. Tonight’s my only night off; I have to go to work for the next six days and then slaying stuff takes up the evenings. So, tonight’s the night.”

He tries to pull away from my hold, but he is helpless to stop me. The only victory he wins is that I’m not touching his bare skin. Instead, I’m tugging him by the sleeve of the hideously garish blue shirt he used for a costume yesterday.

“Nooooo,” he whispers, his eyes wide and a look of terror painting his features. “Someone might see me with you.”

“So?” We manage to enter the building at least. The cool air from the air conditioning swirls around us like a welcoming blanket and the familiar scent of new objects fills my nose.

Spike plants his feet like a cat being forced to walk on a leash, his face a stubborn mask. At least, one thing hasn’t changed. “It would be bad.”

“Why would it be bad, Spike?” I am getting a bit impatient, not that I have much patience anyway. Letting go of his sleeve, I cross my arms.

He shuffles his feet, and I notice his shoes. . . even worse than the shirt. “Because they might think. . . “ He trails off.

I wait for more, but none comes. “They might think what?”

“Lots of things. That I’m with you. . .”

“I am with you.”

“That I might hurt you. . . again.” The last part is so soft that I almost cannot hear him. Still avoiding my gaze, he clears his throat awkwardly and adds, “There might be a fight. I might hurt someone else.”

I roll my eyes. “Spike, we’re in the *mall*. Who’s gonna know us here? And why would they think you would hurt me if I’m willingly with you?”

His blue eyes meet mine for the first time, and I have difficulty reading what I see in their depths. “Do you think I would hurt you?”

The couple passing us to exit the mall cast Spike a strange look when they overhear his words. For the moment, Spike is oblivious to their stares. He’s gazing at me, and I almost forget his insane behavior, forget he has a soul now.

I hesitate. “No. I don’t think you would purposefully hurt me.” Not after what you told me earlier. Instead of relief, his eyes go wide at something he sees over my shoulder. I peek back. “It’s just Dawn, Spike. I asked her to meet us here.”

He begins shaking his head and backing toward the exit. “She’s mad at me. She wants to set me on fire.”

“Only if you hurt me, and you’re not going to do that, are you?”

He’s so much like a child who has been abused. . . all edginess and hypersensitivity. At my words, he stops moving and seems to draw into himself. I’m surprised, but then, I realize that Dawn is right behind me, and he hasn’t shown his wounded side to her even though I told her about the soul. I’m actually rather relieved that he’s going to pull himself halfway together in front of Dawn.

“Hi!” Dawn greets us with a perky grin, and her ponytail still swishing. She’s putting on a show, too, which I suppose Spike needs right now. “How are you guys doing?” She slips her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and rocks slightly back on her heels. She and I are dressed similarly in faded jeans, tiny T-shirts, and white tennis shoes.

“Fine,” I say.

“Been better,” Spike responds, his voice somewhat casual like the Spike of old.

“Ready for shopping fun?”

Spike replies, “No” at the same time I respond with “Yes.”

Dawn raises an eyebrow. “You guys are decisive as usual.”

“We’re here to shop for Spike a new wardrobe,” I insist, glancing at the blank-faced vampire.

Dawn’s smile returns. “Love the shopping. Let’s get going.”

* * *

After thirty minutes of pulling teeth to get Spike to go into a clothing store, he’s finally relented and allowed us to take him by the arms. We enter one of the trendy but more affordable shops and are immediately pounced upon by a sales woman. Great, just what we need.

“Hello!” The young woman is a redhead with a nose ring. She’s dressed in a cutoff red top that shows off her belly button and a short black skirt. Her eyes rove over Spike from his dirty shoes to the top of his bleached blond hair. If Spike were human, he would be blushing. Instead, he just squirms under her scrutiny. “Hmmm. What happened to you?”

Spike looks to me with panic on his features. If his feelings weren’t so real, I’d have laughed at his expression. So, I speak for him, “Our friend here needs some new clothes.”

“Ahhh. I think we can help you. I’m Miranda.” She locks arms with him, and he stares at her arm around his, not quite certain what to make of her. I think that if Spike wasn’t in the state he’s in, I would probably be jealous of the way she was fawning over him. She continues chattering as they walk away. “Come with me, we’ll see what we can find.”

I immediately am relieved of my burden, so I begin to browse through the women’s clothing. Dawn follows, a question brimming from her body. Holding up a cherry-colored peasant blouse, I wonder, “Think I could wear this to work at the school?”

Dawn skims over what I said, “Yeah, it’s great. Buffy, is Spike like totally insane now? I mean, what’s wrong with him?”

“I think he’s going through a lot right now, what with all the people he killed running through his head, and he’s having to deal with his human half again.” I throw the blouse over my left arm and sweep through the remainder of the sale rack, trying to ignore my own feelings of guilt at what I said to him in the past. “Dawn, why don’t you try a couple of things on?”

Dawn seems despondent at my news about Spike. Still, she picks out a soft burgundy sweater and faded denim skirt to try on. “So, does that mean we have to forgive him for what he’s done? Like Angel with his soul?”

I pause to examine a hunter green polyester skirt and matching sheer lace blouse. Adding the outfit to my growing pile, I face my sister. “I honestly don’t know how I feel about it, yet, Dawnie.” We approach the jewelry section of the store, and I finger a few sets of earrings while Dawn studies a turquoise necklace.

“Me either. But I suppose we should try at least. He seems like he’s in so much pain.” Dawn shifts her stack of clothing from one arm to the other.

“Maybe, it’ll just take some time,” I speculate and then nod toward the dressing room. Adjusting to Spike the way he is now was going to take a lot of time. “Let’s try these things on.”

“Do you think this is how he was when he was human?”

I think back to what Spike had told me about his past in upper class England, and I realize I know very little about what Spike was like as a human. I just know he was not well accepted even then. My stomach jars again when I remember how deeply he internalized my barb about him being beneath me. “Maybe.”

Ever observant, Dawn states, “He was probably pretty awkward and lacking in social skills. I mean, look at the way he was with us just coming into a shop.”

“But the old Spike is still there, too,” I say, wondering vaguely whom I’m trying to reassure, me or Dawn.

“Yeah. I guess so. How long do you think it’ll take him to be normal again?” Dawn chooses a stall in the dressing room, and I take the one next to hers.

“Well, it took Angel one hundred years the first time he got his back.” I slip my tank top over my head and slide the peasant blouse onto my torso.

A thump comes from Dawn’s dressing room as she slips off her shoes. “One hundred years?! Somehow, I don’t see Spike taking that long.”

“I know.” I can’t picture Spike taking as long as Angel. Spike has something Angel didn’t. . . “He has us to take care of him.”

Dawn’s scuffles cease at my words.

Alarmed, my senses go on alert, and I call, “Dawn, you okay?”

“Yeah,” came the muffled response.

“You got real quiet.”

“What you said just surprised me, I guess. I mean, about us taking care of Spike.” Sounds of trying on clothing begin again.

Tension melts out of my shoulders, and I put on the hunter green flared skirt and lace, long-sleeved shirt. The green brings out the emerald in my hazel eyes, and I fluff my hair. I’m still me. “Yeah, I sorta surprised myself. It’s just that, he’s been there for me before. . . before. . .”

“When the rest of us weren’t,” Dawn says matter-of-factly. When I say nothing, she asks, “Buffy, could you come look at this and tell me what you think?”

“Sure, I need an opinion, too.” I swing open my dressing cubicle’s door and knock gently on Dawn’s.

The door parts to reveal my little sister, seemingly quite grown up with her hair twisted up in a French twist so that her blue eyes are bright with life. Her slim form is wrapped up in the tight, low-cut denim skirt and deep burgundy sweater-shirt with flair sleeves and small ribbons on the cuffs, and her feet are cased in a pair of burgundy-strapped high-heeled pumps. She towers over me like a model.

I try not to seem too mom-ish with my next words, “My little Dawnie is all adult now.”

She grins then, destroying the mirage of being a young professional. I feel relieved in a way. “And you, Buffy, look wonderful! Beautiful!”

I survey my outfit in the hall mirror. “You think?”

She bobs her head emphatically. “Oh, yes! Definitely a working outfit.”
“Let’s go see how Spike’s doing.”

* * *

Miranda is posing politely by the men’s dressing room, and I smile at her perkiness. She returns the gesture, mentioning, “He’s still in there. Won’t let me come in. Said he didn’t want me to see.” She leans toward me and whispers, “Is there something wrong with him? He seems sort of slow.”

Anger flashes through my muscles. “No. He’s just not feeling well,” I defend Spike. He simply didn’t want her to notice he has no reflection. “Let me go see what he’s doing. Dawn, wait here.”

“Okay. I may go back over and browse some more.”

I cautiously step into the men’s dressing room. “Spike?” I call softly. “You doing okay in here?”

“Buffy?” His voice is tentative.

“Yeah, it’s me. Where are you?” My ears perk, listening for his voice.

“Back here.”

I follow the sounds to the room in the very back. I expect to find him seated on the tiny bench, but as always, he does the opposite of what I expect.

Lounging in the doorway to his cubicle, he is dressed in dark black jeans, a hunter green button up shirt without a collar, and a black denim jacket. His feet are covered with a pair of casual black shoes with laces. I hope the shock and desire doesn’t show on my face. His blue eyes are watching me shyly and sweep from my face over the rest of my body.

“We match,” he murmurs deeply without sarcasm and full of. . . love.

I shiver, but I’m not sure why. “We do,” I agree. “Gonna get that?”

“How are you affording this, Buffy?” he asks gently.

“Ummm. Credit card?”

“Thought you weren’t going there.”

“Ah. Well, I sort of found out I needed to. Have to build a credit history to help Dawn in the future,” I explain.

“Why are you doing this for me?”

“I’m doing it because. . .” Because I feel guilty. Because you took care of me. Because I want to make up for hurting you. Because I don’t like to see you in so much pain, and I don’t know what else to do. “. . . I want to.”

He says nothing and then, bows his head, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Get dressed. And pass me what you want.”

“Okay.”

I notice the various-colored T-shirts strewn about the floor of the cubicle. I point at them. “Hand me the red one, the navy blue one, and the gray one.”
Spike passes them to me wordlessly and shuts the cubicle door without argument.

* * *

I wake at two in the morning on instinct. Throwing the sheets back, I tug on my terrycloth robe and fluffy blue house slippers. Padding down the hall, I peer into Dawn’s bedroom. She’s curled on her side with her long blond-streaked hair splayed in fan-shape over her pillow. Her eyes are closed tightly, and her breathing is deep and even. After verifying that she’s safe, I tiptoe down the stairs.

The living room is empty. The blanket Spike was using to sleep on the sofa is crumpled in a heap on the floor, and I spy the clothes I bought him tonight piled on the coffee table. I let Spike stay here for the night with the condition that he seek Clem tomorrow and find a new place to live besides the crypt and the high school basement.

“Spike,” I whisper into the shadows, knowing somehow that he’s not there.

Not sure what to expect, I cautiously make my way to the kitchen, finding that it, too, is empty. My leather jacket is slung over the top of a stool next to Dawn’s denim coat. Used ice cream bowls line the counter, and a mug from which Spike drank fresh pig’s blood tonight is balanced on the edge of the sink, looking every bit as if it might tumble to the ground and shatter.

Without thinking, I hurry to the sink to re-position the ceramic piece. That’s when I see him. He’s dragged our metal garbage can into the center of the yard. Yellow-orange flames lick the sides of the metal. What the hell is he doing? My temper flares bright as the fire he’s lit. Oddly enough, the anger is accompanied by fear and compassion. Wearing a white undershirt and boxers, Spike is standing awfully close to whatever he’s burning, and vampires are highly combustible.

My mind numb, I rush to the kitchen door, which is cracked open. In my haste, I stumble over Dawn’s leather boots and my garden flip-flops that line the floor next to the door. Spike doesn’t respond despite the racket I’m making. Picking myself up, I approach him slowly, alert for any move he might make.

His face is a mask of pain, and my feelings swirl, the anger fading. Worry takes the place of rage. “Spike? What are you doing out here?”

Still unmoving, he mumbles, “I’m burning it up.”

“What? What are you burning up?” I attempt to catch a glimpse of what’s in the garbage can.

“It isn’t me anymore.” His face is unchanging, the light playing across his skin.

“Spike, shouldn’t you back away from the fire? You are sort of flammable.” A breeze blows, and I wrap my arms around myself to shelter myself.

“It’s no problem. Soon it will be finished. I promise. I won’t hurt anything.”

I lay a hand on his bare arm, and he jumps as if startled. “Spike.” He allows me to guide him back from the heat and the danger. Then, I peer over at whatever’s burning.

Shock registers on my face at what’s there. . .

His leather duster. . . he’s burning his leather duster. My heart skips a beat, and I realize he must have searched for it in the house after Dawn and I fell asleep.

Without turning to him, I ask, “Why are you burning your coat, Spike? I’ve never seen you without it until you forgot it here.”

Silence fills the night air for a moment. The only sound is the crackle of the fire.

His tone is flat. “It doesn’t fit anymore.”

“You haven’t gained any weight, Spike.”

He sighs tiredly. “It’s not me anymore. I’m not that person anymore.”

I face him, brushing his arm with my fingertips. “Who are you, then? You certainly aren’t the clothes in the house. Who are you?”

Spike stands before me emotionally naked, his eyes filled with familiar life but also something else altogether. “I don’t know.”

The end.

Art by Aydin
What's Hair Got to Do with It?
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to Joss and UPN.
Spoilers: Everything up through the first two episodes of season 7.
Summary: Follow-up to “Soul Fashion.” Also related to the challenge from Laura at Yummy Sushi Pajamas to write a story about fashion in the Buffy-verse. Again, this is not quite a fluffy story. Buffy POV. Buffy washes Spike’s hair, and then, they get ready for the evening.

* * *

Testing the water with my fingertips, I note that the running fluid has just the right amount of warmth. Honestly, I don’t know why I’m attempting to make this the right temperature. As a vampire who’s not sensitive to temperature, he won’t be bothered either way. Bringing the hose to the other side of the sink, I let the water flow over the soft but dirty curls. I focus on the hair, moving my fingers through the strands, avoiding his face. . . his stare. I needn’t have bothered because soon I realize that he’s keeping his eyes closed.

“You have nice hair,” I comment before thinking about what I’m saying. “Why do you keep it full of gel all the time? The curls are nice.”

“Really? No one says that.” His voice is low and full of wonder that I rarely hear.

My heart feels a little better, knowing that I gave him a compliment. . . not that one kind word made up for. . . . The other day, I actually read somewhere that to make up for negative messages a person receives, he or she has to receive twice as many positive messages. Spike will need many, but I don’t know how I can give them all. . . or if I even want to try.

“Buffy?”

“Hmmm?”

“Where’d the water go?” He raises his eyebrows at me.

The fluid is pouring just beyond his hair. I move the stream back in place. “Oh. Sorry.”

He promptly closes his eyes again. . . like an obedient little boy. He’s so different that I don’t know what to make of him. Half the time, he’s talking gibberish, and the other half of the time, he’s there but quite childlike. I wonder vaguely if this is what Angel was like when he received his soul.

Then, I remember that I have a captive subject here. Apparently, his memory is intact even if he is off his rocker some of the time. “Spike. I have a question.”

His blue eyes are lucid when he re-opens them briefly. “Sure.”

“What was Angel like when he got his soul?” I hold my breath as soon as I ask the question, preparing myself for any possible reaction from the unpredictable vampire.

Spike tenses and is silent for several minutes. Not sure what to say next, I begin lathering up the shampoo and scrubbing his scalp. He relaxes slowly under my touch.

After what feels like an eternity, I ask, “How come we never did this when. . . you know? It would have been nice.”

Again, I receive no response from the unmoving vampire. Finally, he speaks, “Angel. He got really quiet. . . withdrew from all of us. . . even Darla. He never liked to talk about it.”

“Oh.” A twinge of disappointment flew through me.

“It was disconcerting because with no soul, he was. . . could be quite cruel with us. . . moody. So, when he withdrew, we didn’t quite know what to do with him. He became unpredictable in his predictability. . . like a, like a snake. But, he wasn’t. . . wasn’t like me.”

“Oh,” I repeat.

I turn the water back on to rinse his hair. As if transfixed, I watch the suds wash away from the curls, taking the dirt with them. A crazy thought appeared in my head out of nowhere. . . . One of my gifts is forgiveness. Can I forgive Spike? I don’t believe I’ve ever thought of doing that.

“So, he wasn’t. . .”

Even out of his mind, Spike is able to tell the truth. “He wasn’t insane. He didn’t hear the voices.”

I barely miss a beat. “Ready for conditioning?” I pick up the bottle and squirt a generous amount in my palm.

He wrinkles his nose. “Conditioning? Conditioner makes things soft, shiny. It’s not for people like me.”

I smirk. “Too bad.”

* * *

Perched on a stool across from me, Spike is watching me apply makeup as I get ready for the meeting with the gang. (Xander’s condition for having Spike present at the meeting was that he get cleaned up. . . not that he volunteered to help or anything.) Thankfully, I’m sitting at the at the kitchen breakfast bar, eating a sandwich at the same time. . . not in the bathroom or my bedroom. I’ve learned that if I eat something before the meeting, I eat fewer of the doughnuts that Xander inevitably brings.

“Buffy.”

I swallow the bite of food and set aside the makeup mirror and pressed powder compact to take a sip of lemonade. “Yeah?”

“Why do you wear makeup?”

If Spike of old had asked me that, I would have punched him. I wince at that realization. “I don’t know.”

“Sure you do. Everyone does what they do for a reason. . . like politicians and monkeys.” His face is earnest, and his words make some sort of sense.

“Yeah.” I think for a moment. “Well, I guess I want to look good. I mean, I want to look fresh and clean.”

“Why? You look pretty without makeup.” He leans onto the counter, and I’m just a little afraid of him coming closer.

I offer a small smile. “Thanks. But I still think I won’t leave home without it. I mean, people would run from scary Buffy without makeup. Even the vampires would be scared.”

“Why does it matter what they think?” He reaches out to steal a carrot from my plate and pops the mini-vegetable in his mouth. Chewing slowly, something crosses his face, something akin to pain. “Is it okay I took a carrot?”

Screwing the wand into the mascara, I laugh at his need for me to tell him what he can and cannot do. Has he always been this way? “Yes, silly. There’s a whole bag in the fridge.”

“Carrots are good for bunnies but not me.” He stands, glancing toward the refrigerator. “Got any blood?”

“Nope. Have some lemonade, though.”

Slouching back down, he asks, “Why does it matter what they think?”

“You aren’t going to leave this one alone, are you?”

He offers up a Spike-esque grin. “Do I ever?”

I shake my head. “Well, I guess I care what other people think of me. I mean, most people judge themselves by getting feedback from those around them, and I guess I do the same. I guess people were nicer to me when I wore makeup in junior high, so I kept wearing it.” I shrug.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, eyes downcast. “I get feedback, too. From lots of people. Some of them are dead.”

My heart skips a beat, and I bite my lip, glancing away. All the horrible names I called him come flooding back in a mad rush. “I know.” Thoughts race through my head as I search for something else to say. “Sometimes, you have to know when to listen to the feedback and when to ignore it. It’s a tricky thing like a balance, but you can do it.”

Spike inhales my words like oxygen. “Buffy?”

“Yes?” I am unrolling my lip-gloss to apply a layer to my lips, but at the last second, I decide to shove the stick in my pocket. I’ll put it on later.

He touches his hair, which is bleached solid but also soft and clean and curling against his forehead. I resist the impulse to reach out and stroke the locks. “Will you fix my hair for me? I mean, I’ve always just gelled it, and I thought. . . since you said. . . I would try it different.”

“Okay.” I grab my brush and round the kitchen island where he sits up straight in wait. I frown. Has he forgotten how short I am? “Spike, slouch.”

He slouches, and I brush his hair. An almost imperceptible but familiar purr rises out of his chest at my touch. Part of me wants to drop the brush and leave the house immediately. The other part of me wants me to hug him. I choose in between and continue to brush his hair so the curls loosen into soft waves that lay off his forehead.

“Buffy? How do you know which feedback to listen to?”

The knot in my stomach had eased but now reasserts itself. “Hmmm. I don’t know.”

“I mean, there’s all these people. . . these things telling me that I’m bad. And I understand why. I mean, wouldn’t you be mad at the lion who mauled your child even if the lion was sorry?”

“I-I guess so.” I set the brush aside. But isn’t there a time when a person has to put aside the things of the past and accept him or herself in the moment? Isn’t there a time when a person has to forgive him or herself to move on? I can’t say these things to Spike. I’m not the person who should be telling him these things. Hell, I’m not the person to be telling myself these things.

Unable to think straight anymore, I grab my stakes, keys, and small purse, slamming my dishes in the sink. Spike observes me without a word.

“Come on. Let’s go. The gang’s all waiting. Dawn’s already over there.” Exiting out the back door with Spike following, I turn the lock and make certain it’s secure.

“Where are we going?”

“Xander’s,” I reply nonchalantly, knowing he won’t like the answer.

“Oh, bugger,” comes his standard response, for which I’m actually quite grateful.

* * *

Pressing the doorbell, I straighten my shoulders and prepare for the rush of people. . . the rush of complaints because I brought Spike even though they know I might bring him. For his part, Spike stays far back against the wall opposite the door, appearing nonchalant.

To my surprise, only Xander is in the doorway after the door swings open. “Hey, Buff.”

“Hey. Where is everyone?” I make an attempt to peer into the apartment.

Suddenly, Xander frowns. “What did you bring the evil dead here for? *Insane* evil dead, on top of that, actually.”

After the discussion I had with Spike at the house, anger flashes white-hot at my friend’s words. “Xander, there’ll be no name-calling tonight. And we need Spike’s help.”

Xander meets my eyes with his dark brown ones because even though my decision is a small one, it’s definitely significant. Something triggers in his expression because he acquiesces, “All right. Come on, tall, dark, and. . . well, not so tall and not so dark.” He gestures at Spike to join us in the apartment.

Spike strides quietly forward and crosses the threshold. “Thanks.”

Xander nods stiffly but without sarcasm. “No problem. Welcome to my abode. Be she ever so humble. Dawn and Willow headed to the store for some snacks.” He glances at Spike. “Didn’t know you were coming for sure, or I’d have sent them after some blood, too.”

Spike sinks uneasily onto the sofa. “It’s okay.”

Xander wanders toward the kitchen. “Beer? Spike, Buffy?”

We both decline the alcohol, and I settle across from Spike on the recliner.

Xander fishes a can out of the freezer and returns. “Like them ice cold,” he explains at our raised eyebrows. “So, Spike, those the new clothes Buffy bought for you?”

Spike’s wearing the grey shirt and black jeans from our shopping expedition the other evening. “Yep.”

Crickets can be heard in the next several seconds of awkward silence. Spike is saying as little as possible because he doesn’t want to sound too insane. I’m not sure quite what to say to these two men who have made a hobby. . . no, a profession. . . out of hating one another, and Xander just doesn’t want to stick his foot in his mouth, which is no small feat in and of itself.

Then, the doorbell rings again. Xander hops up a little too eagerly. “I really have to give you people keys.”

Willow, Dawn,. . . and Anya appear in the doorway with their arms laden with grocery bags.

“Hey, guys!” Willow is her usual effervescent self as she deposits her burden onto the kitchen table.

Dawn is just as enthusiastic. “Hi, Buffy! Hello, Spike.” She takes out the plastic cups and begins filling them with ice and pouring diet soda.

Anya hesitates as Xander stares her down. “Hello, Xander. Would you please let me in before I drop these?”

“What are you doing here, Anya?”

She smiles and pushes past him. “Helping.”

Xander looks uncertain. “Okay.”

Anya bustles to the table, placing her bags near Willow’s. Beginning to help Willow empty bags, she pulls two bags of chips out of the bag. Xander comes us behind her and tries to open one of the bags. She slaps his hand.

“Hands off, Harris,” she scolds. “Wait for everyone else first. You’re the host. You’re supposed to do that.”

Willow grins at Xander and hands him a plate. “Dig in.”

He grants her a return smile. “Thanks.”

Anya calls to Spike and I like we are much further away than the living room. “You guys going to eat? Spike, what’s with your hair? It’s different!”

Spike rises and reluctantly accepts a plate from Anya. I’m right on Spike’s tail and also receive a plate.

“And Buffy!” Anya cocks her head to study me. “Something’s different.” She squints her eyes at me and scans over my body, finally settling on my face. “I got it. No lip-gloss.”

I start to reach for the makeup in my pocket but catch Spike scrutinizing me closely, so I take the diet soda he hands me instead.

The end.

Peanuts Christmas Icons

sandy_s — Sat, 13 Nov 2010 23:28:30 GMT

I felt like making icons!

Banners and icons for 10yearsofbtvs

sandy_s — Thu, 06 Sep 2007 00:54:05 GMT

Made these banners and icons for 10yearsofbtvs in July, but realized that I got my dates mixed up (thinking today was September 4), and the community is closed, so I'm posting them here!

The brushes I used are by inxsomniax and textures by creamuts...

(There's a sort of matching icon below...)

1. 2. 3.

4. 5. 6.

7. 8. 9.

10. 11. 12.

13. 14. 15.

16.

Feel free to take...no comments needed!

Coffee icons...

sandy_s — Thu, 05 Jul 2007 01:56:42 GMT

Since I'm a coffee addict... :o) I found all of these wonderful pics at Stock Xchng. :o)

Preview:

1. 2. 3.

4. 5. 6.

7. 8. 9.

10. 11. 12.

13. 14. 15.

16. 17. 18.

19. 20. 21.

22. 23. 24.

25. 26. 27.

28. 29. 30.

31. 32. 33.

34. 35. 36.

37. 38. 39.

40. 41.

So...there are a couple of tea icons, too... :o)

Comments are welcome! Hope you enjoy! Happy Fourth of July! :o) *HUGS*

Please credit if you snag...

Home from work...

sandy_s — Thu, 31 May 2007 13:26:03 GMT

I hate staying home from work. I always feel so guilty...but I still feel bad.

*HUGS* to everyone who sent me get well notes! You're such wonderful friends! :o)

And whoa...fandom_counts is up to 25,000 members!