Two rosebuds for prompts over at
ba_rosebuds. I wrote the first one and then it screamed for a sequel where the Scoobies discover the truth. The style isn't one I've ever tried, but it was fun to write.
Title: The Wrong Kind
Prompt: Private Life
Author: Dralf
Wordcount: 679
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.
What kind of Slayer does this make you?
You ponder the question as you lay in the arms of your lover. He’s asleep right now, his body wrapped around yours.
You could’ve - should’ve - staked him long ago. That’s what a responsible Slayer would do. That’s what a good Slayer would do.
You’re not responsible or good. Not anymore, at least.
When he killed Ms. Calendar, you thought you were ready to kill him. You promised Giles that you would. You promised Willow and Xander that you would. You promised yourself, or you’d fooled yourself into believing it. Now you’re not sure if you were ever ready to kill him.
You didn’t find him immediately. Maybe if you had, this would be over and he’d be dust. Where would that have left you? You don’t want to think about that.
You managed life without your Angel. Things were hard. He, not Angel but the demon sporting his face, sent you presents constantly. One night, out patrolling, he grabbed you and kissed you soundly. Then he disappeared.
As more bodies piled up, your friends watched you with wariness. You know Xander blamed you for their deaths, for letting the monster continue stalking this world. You tried to tell them that Angelus was hard to find, but that didn’t blunt the accusations in their eyes.
Your mother was worried. She encouraged you to find someone else. You tried that, but he turned up dead a day later. After that, no one said anything about dating.
Then you found yourself in the middle of an ambush. You don’t remember how many of them there were, but it was an overwhelming number of demons. Too many to face alone, even for the Slayer. You thought you were going to die.
He came like your dark knight in leather. He came and joined the fray. In moments, between the two of you, you massacred the demons. You watched him and he smiled, vowing that nobody would have the pleasure of killing you.
Past that, you don’t know how it happened. He started joining in your battles more frequently. You didn’t breathe a word of this behavior to any of the Scoobies. They wouldn’t have understood. They would’ve asked why you hadn’t staked him already and that was a question you couldn’t answer.
At first, you thought it was like having Angel back. You thought that maybe the soul had left an imprint behind on the demon.
That wasn’t true. This demon wasn’t your Angel and you’d never forget that. He was selfish and rough and evil. But he protected you and made you feel wonderful and you couldn’t live without that.
You don’t remember how much time passed between him helping you fight and your first night of passion with him. You just remember a brutal battle, nearly losing him as he saved you and your heart beating frantically at the thought of him dusted.
You remember helping him back to Angel’s old apartment because you wouldn’t go near the mansion and he wasn’t welcome anywhere else. You remember bandaging him up. You remember the heat in his eyes and the all-consuming fire within. You remember kissing him and him tearing off your clothes and you doing the same to his.
You don’t remember how many times you’ve done it now.
After the first time, you felt like a traitor to your friends and Angel. You wondered how you could’ve let this happen. You cried and felt dirty. He yelled at you before gathering you into his arms and kissing you roughly.
Now it’s not like that. You can’t explain why except that you need this. You need the passion he offers, you crave it. You want to continue fighting with him, saving more people than you’ve ever saved before (and so what if he kills a few every now and then to eat). You want the way he doesn’t judge you and the way the two of you fit together perfectly.
So the ultimate question remains: what kind of Slayer does this make you?
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Title: Games We Play
Prompt: Tethered
Wordcount: 637
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Sequel to “The Wrong Kind”.
It doesn’t last forever. Nothing does.
You knew the dangers of continuing your game; you knew that secrets are impossible to hide. But you thought that maybe you could do it.
They saw. Well, Xander and Cordelia saw when they were driving by Restfield Cemetery. Angelus and you were fighting some scaly-purple demons. You didn’t see them, so when you finished, you kissed him.
The next day, at school, you found them all assembled in the library with grim faces. You smile and ask what was up, already feeling a cold seed of dread in your gut.
“We saw you with Angelus last night!” Xander yells, pointing his finger at you. “What the hell were you doing sucking face with the enemy like that?”
You feel shame and anger. You’re not sure which is stronger.
“Xander, we promised we wouldn’t point fingers.” Willow murmurs, but you can see the fear mixed in with the confusion. You hope that your friendship isn’t beyond repair, but doubt it.
Xander doesn’t hear. “Were you really so desperate to have your boyfriend back that you’d turn a blind eye to the people he’s killing? That you can ignore it was a soulless demon you were making out with?”
“You don’t understand!” You yell back at him.
“You’re right, I don’t. I don’t get how you can let Ms. Calendar’s murderer walk around. I don’t get how you can let all these people die. And I don’t get how you can say you loved Angel when you’re sleeping with his evil alter ego now. Or does it just not make a difference anymore?”
“Xander…” Willow tries intervening again, but you’re too angry now to let her speak.
“You don’t know what it’s been like. How hard it’s been to pretend everything’s okay when it just continues to spin out of control. He’s helping. He’s saved me so many times now.” You don’t tell them that you’ve saved him multiple times too. “I would never have taken out that Kalvari nest without him.” You also don’t tell them that you want Angelus.
“So what? He’s saved a few lives and he’s a good bedmate. Does that make his murders okay?”
You know it’s not okay, but you can’t kill him. A flimsy excuse passes your lips. “He saves more than he kills.”
Giles has been watching the entire time with agony in his eyes. He speaks now. “That doesn’t make it okay. There are families out there who are missing their loved ones because he’s killed them.” His voice chokes. “How can you let him live, Buffy?”
“Because I can’t kill him.” Your confession is soft, your eyes growing teary.
“We can kill him.” Willow. Still trying to make amends. You don’t deserve a friend like that. “We can torch the mansion during the day and then you won’t have to kill him.”
Your eyes narrow. “No.” You feel guilty at the hurt on her face, but you don’t regret your words. “I won’t let him die.”
Their eyes are fast on you. You can see the names in their heads: whore, traitor, murderer. You know there will be no going back unless you kill him. And you can’t kill him. You’re tethered to him and you know it’ll kill you to kill him.
They can’t see that. They won’t try to understand what binds you to him or him to you. They’ll assume it’s sex or an inability to separate Angel from Angelus. But it’s not.
“Don’t do this, Buffy.” Xander says. “We’re giving you a chance.”
A chance to return to them.
You take a deep breath, sorrow settling on your shoulders. You don’t want to lose your friends, but they’ve given you no choice. “I’m sorry.”
You turn your back on them and head to the apartment where Angelus rests.