"The Little Death" - a BtVS Season Eight story, part 1 of 4
This story takes place shortly after the events of the “Time of Your Life” story arc in the Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Season Eight comics series, concluding with issue #19. Prequels to this story are my earlier stories, “Don’t Fall” and (especially) “But We Know Pleasure Is Not That Simple.” These stories introduce variations to the established canon of the official series.
“The Little Death” is rated NC-17 and includes tasteful but explicit descriptions of sex between female characters.
Pairings: Buffy/Satsu, Willow/Kennedy, Amy Madison/...
I claim no ownership of these characters, make no money off these writings, and no infringement is intended.
Part One
Buffy started awake for what seemed like the twentieth time, seconds away from doing a faceplant onto the keyboard of her laptop computer. Jumping 200 years into the future and back, it seemed, had left her with a bit of jet lag. Major time zone issues.
What had especially not been helpful was to come back to find the castle she’d been using as a command base destroyed, and several more of her girls dead. From one flavor of badness to another, and no time to go somewhere alone and cry for a while. She wondered if eventually, she’d stop wanting to.
This abandoned nuclear bunker they’d broken into was a temporary stopgap at best. They’d managed to jury-rig a tap into a nearby trunk line for electricity, but most of their tech had been left behind in the ruins of the old place. There were useable food and water supplies stockpiled in the bunker - most of it older than Buffy - but no running water and damned little privacy.
And it was only a matter of time before they were discovered.
“Buffy-chan? Are you coming to bed?”
Buffy closed her eyes and smiled. There are finally some good things showing up in the world too, though, she reminded herself. There’s Satsu.
“Just doing a little real-estate search,” Buffy said with a yawn. “We’re a little short on funds at the mo, but I’m thinking something in a secret island lair in the South Seas. With an active volcano, a doomsday death ray, and a nice missile defense system.”
“With or without shark-based perimeter defenses? I think I know a tiki god who can offer you a deal.”
Buffy looked over at Satsu, who stood in the doorway of the concrete cubicle-with-a-camp-bed that was serving as their “bedroom.” She was wearing a size-XL white Pixies t-shirt, a pair of powder-blue ankle socks, and that was about all.
Buffy swallowed hard. “On second thought, I’m… I’m totally coming to bed.”
Satsu beamed at her. “Want me to put you to sleep?”
Buffy let Satsu lead her by the hand to the bed. “If you’re thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’, I don’t know if sleep is a big part of the agenda.”
Satsu put her hand under Buffy’s chin and raised up her sleepy head. “Let me show you,” she whispered, and kissed her tenderly. Buffy felt herself falling backwards onto the bed.
* * * * *
More than a hundred miles away, Amy Madison started with a gasp as an alarm went off in her head. She smiled triumphantly. “Finally! What the hell took them so long?”
“What’s that, sugar pants?” asked Warren absently, not looking up from whatever damned thing it was he was tinkering with tonight.
“Buffy and her little Harajuku girl are finally going at it again. I thought maybe I’d have to do something more to push them together. I guess the hornies crawling around in her Victoria’s Secrets must finally be too much for her.”
Warren looked at her with what probably would have been a disgusted look, if he’d had any skin at all on his face (or indeed, anywhere on his body). “Tell me again why you’re so interested in helping Buffy Summers with her sex life?”
“Because, Warren, sweetie, a Slayer without passion is nothing but a dyke with a pointy stick in her hand. With my new toy I can rob her of her fight. I can take away her fire. I can make her wonder why she even gets up in the morning.”
“And not just Buffy. All of them. I can turn all the Slayers on earth into a bunch of hollow-eyed losers in trashy skirts.”
Warren had already seemed to lose interest. “Well, good,” he said, barely even bothering with sarcasm. “Try not to underestimate that bunch this time. Your last few efforts haven’t exactly been highlight reel material.”
Amy made a dismissive sound. “You should talk, Mr. Limp Missile,” she called. But she was already scampering off toward her room. Time was wasting.
On the sideboard in her bedroom stood a most unusual statuette. Carved from some iron-hard type of wood, it depicted a miniature tree trunk, rising about ten inches from its base. Spiralling around the length of the trunk was a scaly serpent. Its head, pointing straight up, formed the uppermost tip of the whole piece, which in its entirely was about as thick around as Amy’s forearm. The whole thing was wreathed in an eerie blue-green cold flame, like the aurora borealis.
Oh, yes. Buffy and Satsu were definitely active, somewhere.
Amy took down the carving, set it on the stone floor, and quickly slid off her jeans and shirt and underpants. A little scared thrill coursed through her, as it always did. This was going to hurt. Quite a lot, at first. But it would be worth it. Well worth it.
She straddled the fiery carving, holding it in place with one hand, and, gritting her teeth, sank down slowly around it.
* * * * *
On her back, on the bed, in the dark, quiet room, Buffy smiled as her head swam with exhaustion and pleasure. Satsu’s fingertips tickled her up and down her sides, her hips, her legs… enough to make her smile and shiver, but gentle enough not to jar her with laughter. Between her thighs, her lover did wonderful things to her. Dreamy-soft wonderful, moreso than the usual tangy-sharp wonderful.
Can’t tell her how much I love her, thought Buffy as she slid deeper into bliss. They haven’t invented good enough words yet. She took a deep, sighing breath as she felt herself soar past the point of no return. There were stars flashing in her head, and a vision of soft brown almond eyes. The stars, and the eyes, seemed to go on forever and ever and ever…
Satsu crept quietly up alongside Buffy, who breathed softly and regularly, sound asleep. For a long time she just gazed at Buffy’s dreaming face. She looked so beautiful in slumber, her fears and worries forgotten for a little while. Sighing with contentment, Satsu snuggled up, her face buried in sweet-scented honey-golden hair, and let her own dreams claim her.
* * * * *
Amy lay curled up, naked, on the floor of her bedchamber, next to the now-glistening serpent-sculpture. Its fiery halo had been extinguished, for the moment. She shivered, her body covered in a sheen of sweat as she lay on the cold flagstones. A few minutes in a fetal position would help her stop shaking, and the soreness would go away by morning. Eyes closed, she gulped and smiled as she felt the warm power roiling around in her empty womb, like a belly full of brandy on a winter’s night.
Continued in Part Two
“The Little Death” is rated NC-17 and includes tasteful but explicit descriptions of sex between female characters.
Pairings: Buffy/Satsu, Willow/Kennedy, Amy Madison/...
I claim no ownership of these characters, make no money off these writings, and no infringement is intended.
Part One
Buffy started awake for what seemed like the twentieth time, seconds away from doing a faceplant onto the keyboard of her laptop computer. Jumping 200 years into the future and back, it seemed, had left her with a bit of jet lag. Major time zone issues.
What had especially not been helpful was to come back to find the castle she’d been using as a command base destroyed, and several more of her girls dead. From one flavor of badness to another, and no time to go somewhere alone and cry for a while. She wondered if eventually, she’d stop wanting to.
This abandoned nuclear bunker they’d broken into was a temporary stopgap at best. They’d managed to jury-rig a tap into a nearby trunk line for electricity, but most of their tech had been left behind in the ruins of the old place. There were useable food and water supplies stockpiled in the bunker - most of it older than Buffy - but no running water and damned little privacy.
And it was only a matter of time before they were discovered.
“Buffy-chan? Are you coming to bed?”
Buffy closed her eyes and smiled. There are finally some good things showing up in the world too, though, she reminded herself. There’s Satsu.
“Just doing a little real-estate search,” Buffy said with a yawn. “We’re a little short on funds at the mo, but I’m thinking something in a secret island lair in the South Seas. With an active volcano, a doomsday death ray, and a nice missile defense system.”
“With or without shark-based perimeter defenses? I think I know a tiki god who can offer you a deal.”
Buffy looked over at Satsu, who stood in the doorway of the concrete cubicle-with-a-camp-bed that was serving as their “bedroom.” She was wearing a size-XL white Pixies t-shirt, a pair of powder-blue ankle socks, and that was about all.
Buffy swallowed hard. “On second thought, I’m… I’m totally coming to bed.”
Satsu beamed at her. “Want me to put you to sleep?”
Buffy let Satsu lead her by the hand to the bed. “If you’re thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’, I don’t know if sleep is a big part of the agenda.”
Satsu put her hand under Buffy’s chin and raised up her sleepy head. “Let me show you,” she whispered, and kissed her tenderly. Buffy felt herself falling backwards onto the bed.
* * * * *
More than a hundred miles away, Amy Madison started with a gasp as an alarm went off in her head. She smiled triumphantly. “Finally! What the hell took them so long?”
“What’s that, sugar pants?” asked Warren absently, not looking up from whatever damned thing it was he was tinkering with tonight.
“Buffy and her little Harajuku girl are finally going at it again. I thought maybe I’d have to do something more to push them together. I guess the hornies crawling around in her Victoria’s Secrets must finally be too much for her.”
Warren looked at her with what probably would have been a disgusted look, if he’d had any skin at all on his face (or indeed, anywhere on his body). “Tell me again why you’re so interested in helping Buffy Summers with her sex life?”
“Because, Warren, sweetie, a Slayer without passion is nothing but a dyke with a pointy stick in her hand. With my new toy I can rob her of her fight. I can take away her fire. I can make her wonder why she even gets up in the morning.”
“And not just Buffy. All of them. I can turn all the Slayers on earth into a bunch of hollow-eyed losers in trashy skirts.”
Warren had already seemed to lose interest. “Well, good,” he said, barely even bothering with sarcasm. “Try not to underestimate that bunch this time. Your last few efforts haven’t exactly been highlight reel material.”
Amy made a dismissive sound. “You should talk, Mr. Limp Missile,” she called. But she was already scampering off toward her room. Time was wasting.
On the sideboard in her bedroom stood a most unusual statuette. Carved from some iron-hard type of wood, it depicted a miniature tree trunk, rising about ten inches from its base. Spiralling around the length of the trunk was a scaly serpent. Its head, pointing straight up, formed the uppermost tip of the whole piece, which in its entirely was about as thick around as Amy’s forearm. The whole thing was wreathed in an eerie blue-green cold flame, like the aurora borealis.
Oh, yes. Buffy and Satsu were definitely active, somewhere.
Amy took down the carving, set it on the stone floor, and quickly slid off her jeans and shirt and underpants. A little scared thrill coursed through her, as it always did. This was going to hurt. Quite a lot, at first. But it would be worth it. Well worth it.
She straddled the fiery carving, holding it in place with one hand, and, gritting her teeth, sank down slowly around it.
* * * * *
On her back, on the bed, in the dark, quiet room, Buffy smiled as her head swam with exhaustion and pleasure. Satsu’s fingertips tickled her up and down her sides, her hips, her legs… enough to make her smile and shiver, but gentle enough not to jar her with laughter. Between her thighs, her lover did wonderful things to her. Dreamy-soft wonderful, moreso than the usual tangy-sharp wonderful.
Can’t tell her how much I love her, thought Buffy as she slid deeper into bliss. They haven’t invented good enough words yet. She took a deep, sighing breath as she felt herself soar past the point of no return. There were stars flashing in her head, and a vision of soft brown almond eyes. The stars, and the eyes, seemed to go on forever and ever and ever…
Satsu crept quietly up alongside Buffy, who breathed softly and regularly, sound asleep. For a long time she just gazed at Buffy’s dreaming face. She looked so beautiful in slumber, her fears and worries forgotten for a little while. Sighing with contentment, Satsu snuggled up, her face buried in sweet-scented honey-golden hair, and let her own dreams claim her.
* * * * *
Amy lay curled up, naked, on the floor of her bedchamber, next to the now-glistening serpent-sculpture. Its fiery halo had been extinguished, for the moment. She shivered, her body covered in a sheen of sweat as she lay on the cold flagstones. A few minutes in a fetal position would help her stop shaking, and the soreness would go away by morning. Eyes closed, she gulped and smiled as she felt the warm power roiling around in her empty womb, like a belly full of brandy on a winter’s night.
Continued in Part Two