garnigal (garnigal) wrote in seasonal_spuffy,
garnigal
garnigal
seasonal_spuffy

Happy Seasonal Spuffy!

This got... weird.

I got all hung up on the theme. First I tried time travel (it's been done, and much better), then I read a whole bunch of Harry Potter fanfic (surprisingly helped me not at all), and then I listened to the song, and looked for quotes... all the usual triggers.

Then I wrote half of three terrible stories and barely restrained myself from throwing my laptop across the room.

Eventually, I came up with something. It's Spuffy... if you squint? Either way, I'm happy to be kicking off this season of Spuffy with a look back in time. And hey, I'm doing everyone a favour - your contributions are going to look fantastic compared to this!

By the time he got to LA, the gym was burned to the ground and the Slayer was missing.


It made sense that he’d missed her; had to completely change directions when the new slayer was called, didn’t he? But he’d had two slayers, knew that the slayer blood would heal Drusilla. It’d done wonders for him after all, turning him from Angelus’ whipping boy to a master in his own right. Finally turned Drusilla’s attention away from Angelus’ tortures to Spike’s loving care.


“We’ll catch up, love. And once you’ve had a taste of that sweet slayer blood, you’ll be good
as gold.”


And so, since Prague, he’d chased whispers in the dark. Chased rumours of girls that were fast and strong and out in cemeteries late at night. Somehow, though he was always a step behind.


“I think we were close to the one in India. Though some demon told me her name was India.
How stupid is that, my princess? What kind of person names a kid after a country that’s been
conquered by a bunch of pasty blubbery men in red coats?”


But that was then; now he had to make his way to America’s west coast, home of sunshine and blondes, while caring for a weak and more barmy than usual Drusilla.


“I deserved a little break, didn’t I darling? Made the streets red with blood, and lit the town afire
with our passions. And I brought you a treat, love. I hope you like him.”


Eventually he calmed himself, calmed Dru, made the travel arrangements and sat back to enjoy a few moments of peace, watching the fires burn around town. Town’d rebuild. They always did. And in fifty years or so, maybe he and Dru would come back to see the changes their destruction had wrought.


The trip itself was uneventful, if painfully circuitous. Wonder of wonders, Dru didn’t wander off, but neither did she hunt, so he had to feed himself and bring a little nibble back for her. Much as she liked children, most kiddies shied away from men in leather jackets. He brought her what he could, but even weakened, Drusilla could make her disappointment known.


“Ah my sweetness, I know she isn’t what you’d hoped, not the choices cut around. But she’ll
keep your strength up until we get to LA. Don’t disappoint me now, love. Eat up, like a good girl.”


They’d been to the States before, of course. He’d gotten his second slayer in a dirty New York subway car. Gotten his coat there too. But for all that New York and LA were in the same country, they might as well have been opposites ends of the world.

New York was gritty and real, shaded in greys and blacks. The music was loud and angry, just like the people. Just like that slayer had been.


LA was clean, pink and sparkly. Fake and bright, with no dark corners for a respectable vampire or demon to hunt from. The colours were louder than the music, and everyone had smiles as bright as the sunshine. It was like it’s own little hell dimension.


“Can you even imagine a slayer in this cloud of frills and lace, Dru? She’ll be easy pickings for
us, a pink and pretty throat filled with rich red blood all for my princess. You’ll be back on your
feet in no time!”


He tucked Dru up with Miss Edith in a big empty house, chosen because the dust cloths on the furniture made it somewhat less pink and cheery than the rest of the place, then headed into the night to find the slayer.


“Dru love, don’t be so down-hearted. Bit late is all, but we’ve got her scent now and we’ll run
her to ground. She’s done a lovely bit of damage to the local school ground, and thinned out
the vampires so that we can have our pick of the pretty little boys and girls until she’s home.
You and Miss Edith can have a nice tea party with the snacks I’ve brought, can’t you? And
soon I’ll deliver her head on a platter for you.”


He loitered around her house, eavesdropping on her parents. Found she’d been packed off to Europe with her boyfriend for a ‘graduation trip’; lovely little distraction while Mummy and Daddy fought over who got the house in the divorce and packed up all her things to move to a new town. Spike chortled to Dru about knowing about the slayer’s impending move and broken home before the slayer herself did, though Dru simply muttered at Miss Edith and ignored him.


And then she was back, just long enough to say goodbye to everything she’d ever known, all the friends she used to have, the watcher she’d secretly buried in a quiet corner of the cemetery, and hopefully her calling too. New life, right?


“She’s just as we suspected, love. Untrained, foolish, too concerned with her nails and pretty
blonde hair to put up much of a fight for a real vampire. Last spring was nothing but a fluke -
bad luck for the vampires, but good luck for us. She might be the most pathetic slayer I’ve
ever seen, but she’s still got that blood in her veins. Rich and red, just what you need.”


Drusilla kept muttering to Miss Edith as he left, his attention wholly fixed on the bright blonde he didn’t realize he’d been waiting over 100 years for.


“All gold and bright around him, Miss Edith. I thought he was an angel, come to save me, that
his light was his lovely shiny soul and I took it, Miss Edith, took it away and turned it all dark
and red. But it’s gotten lighter and lighter, Miss Edith, brighter and brighter, until he’s almost an
angel again, not a dark one, not like my daddy. He’s hers and he doesn’t know it, but you know
don’t you, Miss Edith. Whatever shall we do?”


And alone in a darkened, empty house, she cried for the future that she’d always known, and always feared.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike:  I'd rather be fightin' you anyway.

Buffy:  Mutual.
- What's My Line, Part 2

Tags: creator: garnigal, era: pre-series, rating: other
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