Angel/BtVS Drabbles and Ficlets
Sep. 10th, 2013 09:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katleeptSpike/Buffy with mentions of Spike/Dru in
He couldn't lose her in alcohol, blood, or massacre. He couldn't lose her by going halfway around the world. Even Drusilla could not make him forget her; instead, his dark Princess forgot him. Spike snarled, cursing, as he watched Dru leave with another lesser Demon.
He couldn't win. He couldn't live this way. He wasn't even existing. He'd forgotten how. He'd forgotten everything because of one bitch. He knew what he had to do. He had to return to Sunnydale and either finally kill the Slayer or claim her as his forever. "Bugger!" Even he didn't know what he wanted.
The End
, rated PG/K+
Angel/Cordy and Lorne in
Every day without his love's light shining through his darkness was Angel's own personal Hell. He missed her beautiful, smiling face every night. He yearned for her every moment. Yet, sometimes, it was the simplest things he missed the most.
He couldn't even drink his blood without thinking of her. No one else had ever cared enough for him to try to make blood actually taste good. The crimson fluid had lost its appeal to him when he had become ensouled, but she had found a reason to make him like it again. It wasn't just the cinnamon with which she tinted it; it was her loving care, her hands caressing each cup as she brought it to him every evening.
Angel sighed deeply as he slipped away from all of his people's prying eyes and into his office. He walked to his desk in the dark and flung himself into his chair. It wheeled around with him, and he found himself looking at Cordelia's picture on his desk . . . Cordelia's picture and the coffee cup she'd always used to bring him his blood.
His pale brow furrowed. He hadn't seen that cup in quite some time. He lifted and sniffed it. The cinnamon was there, but of course, it hadn't been carried by his cherished Cordelia. Lorne had brought this cup, and Angel understood his friend's meaning too well, although he wondered how he'd known exactly what cup Cordelia had always used.
Perhaps he could still smell her scent on it, as could Angel. Perhaps he'd seen her use it enough times to remember it was the one, or perhaps he had simply chosen it because, since her death, it had set unused in their various kitchens, a place of reverence even being held for it here in the Wolfram and Hart offices.
Angel smelled the cinnamon-tinted blood and thought he might should tell Lorne not to worry. He wasn't going to completely lose touch with the world without his beloved Seer. He wasn't going to become Angelus again; Cordelia's death ensured he'd never get that moment of pure happiness in this existence. He wasn't going to go completely over the dark end, because he could still sometimes see a glimmer of her light waiting for him in whatever lay beyond this unlife.
He had to hold to that light, and he would, for he had to be with her again. Every moment spent in this world knowing he'd never see her beauty shining in it again felt like he was standing in sunlight, slowly turning to ash although his skin remained in tact. Actually, it felt worse than that. He had no words for what it truly felt like. He had to hold on to what he could still see of her light so that this pain could stop and they finally be together again.
He would hold to her memory and to that last vestige of her light until he was in her arms again, even if they were nothing more than spirits. Perhaps he should tell Lorne. Perhaps, Angel thought, drinking his blood and feeling its cinnamon-hued warmth curling familiar, welcomed fingers in his stomach. Perhaps, but he wouldn't for maybe, as long as Lorne thought he was in danger of forgetting Cordelia, all she had meant to him, and all she had wanted for him in this world, he'd keep getting these little reminders and his cinnamon blood again.
The End, rated PG/K+
Angel/Cordy in
He slipped back into the welcoming darkness of his room as the sun rose over Los Angeles and knew instantly he was not alone. He turned, knowing what he would find and yet still feeling the breath he didn't need catch in his undead throat upon the sight. His lips trembled upwards into a smile. He'd never seen anything more beautiful.
His longing, loving gaze made Cordelia's entire being warm. She tried not to worry about him as he fought each night, but it was an impossibility. A girl couldn't help worrying about the hunk she loved, even when she knew said hunk could take on the world and kick the butt of every Demon in it.
"Morning." He watched her as she walked to him, took the offered blood, and drank it silently. When he was done, she was waiting for him in bed. He laid beside her, took her in his arms, and held her there. They exchanged no kisses for they knew to what they would lead, only caresses, but for Angel, just holding his Princess, loving her without words or passion's embrace, and knowing she loved him was enough to make every night worth the fight.
The End, rated G/K
BtVS' Giles in
He stared down at the inevitable outcome he could feel looming down upon him. He had tried so hard to be cunning and smooth, to use the right weapon in every battle, to outwit the hand of Death which never stopped reaching for him. But it had come at last. There was no way out. Rupert Giles sighed deeply and pushed his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. "Very well," he intoned. "Just do it."
"You're dead," Andrew called gleefully.
"Bloody game," Rupert muttered, withdrawing from the game and swearing, once more, never to play with children.
The End, rated PG/K+
Willow/Kennedy in
She doesn't tell her she can't kill her as she sits back and watches her begin the spell that will change the world. She knows she needs to believe that right now, that she would never try the spell if she thought, for one moment, that Kennedy couldn't do what she believes might be needed. Kenn can only guess at just how bad Willow was when she lost control before, but she knows a few things for certain even now.
She knows that, if Willow fails, they are all sitting ducks. Not a one of them will survive this fight. She knows, too, that all of them, from Buffy all the way down to the newest potential, has loads of courage to be on this day, and she realizes it isn't just courage keeping her pinned to this post. It takes courage to fight when you don't really think you can win.
It takes courage, too, to love. She thought it was hard tricking Willow into going out on a date with her, but Willow was the one who really had to have the courage to love again. Kennedy's willing to thank whatever God or Goddess helped her to do it, if only she knew Which One to thank. She never believed in more than one God before meeting Willow, but her Witch does. She'll share that belief and any others she needs her to believe.
Belief is as important as their courage in this moment, Kennedy realizes as she watches Willow begin to glow. Will believes she can kill her. Buffy believes in Willow; the other potentials and her friends believe in Buffy. As for Kennedy, she believes in the woman sitting in front of her. She believes she can do this. She can save the world through this spell, and when she comes back to herself, Kennedy believes, too, that they'll get out of this battle alive. They have to, because she wants a lifetime to love her Witchy woman and she always gets what she wants.
The End, rated PG/K+
Angel/Cordy in
Come as you are. Come as you are into my dreams, into my heart, my arms, my home, into me. Come as you are, and love me as you will. Forget the Slayer, or don't. Just love me more. Love me as I love you, or at least, love me as you can. I don't care how dark you become, how mean you may be to me when you think you've lost it all. You'll never lose me. I'll always love you. Just come as you are to me, now, before it's too late.
Those are the words she should have whispered to him long ago. They are the words she ached to scream that night on the bridge, and they are the ones she'll tell her Angel whenever he finally gets to her in Heaven.
The End
Buffy and Ensemble in
She awoke to eerie silence and slipped out of bed. On socked feet, she crept across the floor. She didn't want to wake her mother or her sister. The first several times this happened, Buffy should have wondered why she thought of a sister didn't have, but everything seemed normal. It was just another sleepless night for the world's only Vampire Slayer.
Only it wasn't. The hairs on her arms stood on end as she left her bedroom behind. The entire house was quiet, as deathly quiet as a tomb, she thought, although having always thought the saying overused before. She moved on, walking through the halls that were longer than any in any house she'd ever lived or visited, until she at last reached the living room. She screamed at the sight of her mother laying still on their couch, her eyes glazed over by Death's cold hand.
Then she opened a door and looked in on her little sister. The atmosphere was suddenly as cold as ice, and so was her sister's body. Her big, brown eyes stared at her, wide, innocent, and completely lifeless. Buffy screamed again, and her world spun and changed.
She was now in her high school, but the entire school seemed as deathly quiet as her home had been previously. Once more, she walked the halls for what seemed like endless hours until they did end. She peered in at a classroom and found all the students and the teacher sitting at their desks, all still from the affects of Death. Cordelia was there in that room, as lifeless as all the rest.
She turned and ran, threw open double doors, and stopped inside the library. This was her home away from home. This was her safe haven. She and Giles might not always see eye to eye, but her Watcher would stop Death from coming to her. She wouldn't be like all the other Slayers and die too young. Giles would save her.
Only it was too late to save Giles. He, Willow, Xander, and Oz all sat at the table, ancient textbooks pied all around them. Their eyes were all turned toward her, as though they had been waiting for her and she had not arrived in time. The books spilled over the table, poured over their bodies, tripping them to the floor. The onslaught of rippling pages silenced Buffy's screams as they washed over her.
The books suddenly gave way. A body pressed down upon hers. She reached out to push it away and stopped, her hands freezing on a familiar black leather duster, as she saw the face of this most recent corpse. "Angel!"
"We tried, Buffy. We all tried to love you, but it wasn't enough, was it, pet? In the end, we couldn't keep you from it. We can't keep you."
It wasn't Angel who spoke. She looked wildly around until her eyes locked with a piercing, blue gaze. The blonde Vampire who spoke turned to dust before her very eyes. At the same time, Angel's body became dust raining down on her. The dust quickly became like a sea, and she was swept under.
Buffy blinked. She was no longer drowning, not in Vampire dust or in books. The school had vanished along with her friends' corpses. She was alone again, not even Angel for company. She had just seen him turn to dust, and yet, somehow, she knew he was alive.
He was alive, or undead, but where was she? A bright white . . . thing surrounded her. She could not tell if it was light or solid, if the whiteness belonged to walls or clouds or something else entirely. It was just . . . white all around her.
She sensed movement behind her and whirled to meet her opponent. The first Slayer was there, but she did not want to fight. She only looked at her, piercing her with a deep, wild gaze that seemed to penetrate her very soul, and then she was gone again and Buffy was finally awake.
She was awake and looking into the panicked eyes of the young girl who should never have become a girl, the sister she'd not had when those prophetic dreams had started but was nonetheless her sister. It didn't matter that she was the Key. It didn't matter that she hadn't really grown up with Buffy or that their mother was not truly the same. Dawn didn't even have a mother really, but none of that mattered.
Buffy knew what she had to do. She'd have had to do it even if she didn't love Dawn, but she did. She loved Dawn and Angel and Spike and Giles and Willow and Xander, and every one of them would die if she didn't do this. She made her move, understanding her dreams at last, hearing her sister cry for her, knowing each of her friends, who were really more of a family to her, would feel a piece of them die when she died, and knowing she was doing the right thing. She was giving them the gift that was the only thing she could give them now and had always been the most important thing.
She didn't die for the world. She didn't die just for Dawn. She died for her world, and with that knowledge and her last breath, Buffy smiled. She smiled and whispered words she knew they would all come to understand though they couldn't hear her, "I love you all."
The End, rated PG-13/T
Buffy in
She knows it heralds trouble the moment she sees the heart-shaped box laying on her pillow. It tries twice before finally managing to lift the box; her fingers shake as she raises the lid. She stares at the small box's contents, unable to scream, too tired to release the sounds of terror bubbling inside her throat.
Finally, she drops it. She grimaces, shaking all over, as the bloody fingers pop out of the box and onto her bed. The ring on one confirms their identity. Slowly, Buffy slides to the floor. Her favorite singer will never play her guitar again.
The End, rated PG/K+
Angel/Cordy with mentions of Angel/Buffy and Angel(us)/Darla in
When he was young, he was always chasing one skirt after another. He thought life was all about women and the pleasure they brought. Then Darla came to him, bringing him new life and more power and pleasure than he had ever before imagined. It was a female Gypsy who cursed him so that he no longer wanted to live until he saw Buffy. Now, though Buffy lives, because Cordelia does not, he again does not want to live. Angel smirks as he reminisces and realizes that he was right all those centuries ago: It is always about a girl.
The End, rated PG-13/T
He couldn't lose her in alcohol, blood, or massacre. He couldn't lose her by going halfway around the world. Even Drusilla could not make him forget her; instead, his dark Princess forgot him. Spike snarled, cursing, as he watched Dru leave with another lesser Demon.
He couldn't win. He couldn't live this way. He wasn't even existing. He'd forgotten how. He'd forgotten everything because of one bitch. He knew what he had to do. He had to return to Sunnydale and either finally kill the Slayer or claim her as his forever. "Bugger!" Even he didn't know what he wanted.
The End
, rated PG/K+
Angel/Cordy and Lorne in
Every day without his love's light shining through his darkness was Angel's own personal Hell. He missed her beautiful, smiling face every night. He yearned for her every moment. Yet, sometimes, it was the simplest things he missed the most.
He couldn't even drink his blood without thinking of her. No one else had ever cared enough for him to try to make blood actually taste good. The crimson fluid had lost its appeal to him when he had become ensouled, but she had found a reason to make him like it again. It wasn't just the cinnamon with which she tinted it; it was her loving care, her hands caressing each cup as she brought it to him every evening.
Angel sighed deeply as he slipped away from all of his people's prying eyes and into his office. He walked to his desk in the dark and flung himself into his chair. It wheeled around with him, and he found himself looking at Cordelia's picture on his desk . . . Cordelia's picture and the coffee cup she'd always used to bring him his blood.
His pale brow furrowed. He hadn't seen that cup in quite some time. He lifted and sniffed it. The cinnamon was there, but of course, it hadn't been carried by his cherished Cordelia. Lorne had brought this cup, and Angel understood his friend's meaning too well, although he wondered how he'd known exactly what cup Cordelia had always used.
Perhaps he could still smell her scent on it, as could Angel. Perhaps he'd seen her use it enough times to remember it was the one, or perhaps he had simply chosen it because, since her death, it had set unused in their various kitchens, a place of reverence even being held for it here in the Wolfram and Hart offices.
Angel smelled the cinnamon-tinted blood and thought he might should tell Lorne not to worry. He wasn't going to completely lose touch with the world without his beloved Seer. He wasn't going to become Angelus again; Cordelia's death ensured he'd never get that moment of pure happiness in this existence. He wasn't going to go completely over the dark end, because he could still sometimes see a glimmer of her light waiting for him in whatever lay beyond this unlife.
He had to hold to that light, and he would, for he had to be with her again. Every moment spent in this world knowing he'd never see her beauty shining in it again felt like he was standing in sunlight, slowly turning to ash although his skin remained in tact. Actually, it felt worse than that. He had no words for what it truly felt like. He had to hold on to what he could still see of her light so that this pain could stop and they finally be together again.
He would hold to her memory and to that last vestige of her light until he was in her arms again, even if they were nothing more than spirits. Perhaps he should tell Lorne. Perhaps, Angel thought, drinking his blood and feeling its cinnamon-hued warmth curling familiar, welcomed fingers in his stomach. Perhaps, but he wouldn't for maybe, as long as Lorne thought he was in danger of forgetting Cordelia, all she had meant to him, and all she had wanted for him in this world, he'd keep getting these little reminders and his cinnamon blood again.
The End, rated PG/K+
Angel/Cordy in
He slipped back into the welcoming darkness of his room as the sun rose over Los Angeles and knew instantly he was not alone. He turned, knowing what he would find and yet still feeling the breath he didn't need catch in his undead throat upon the sight. His lips trembled upwards into a smile. He'd never seen anything more beautiful.
His longing, loving gaze made Cordelia's entire being warm. She tried not to worry about him as he fought each night, but it was an impossibility. A girl couldn't help worrying about the hunk she loved, even when she knew said hunk could take on the world and kick the butt of every Demon in it.
"Morning." He watched her as she walked to him, took the offered blood, and drank it silently. When he was done, she was waiting for him in bed. He laid beside her, took her in his arms, and held her there. They exchanged no kisses for they knew to what they would lead, only caresses, but for Angel, just holding his Princess, loving her without words or passion's embrace, and knowing she loved him was enough to make every night worth the fight.
The End, rated G/K
BtVS' Giles in
He stared down at the inevitable outcome he could feel looming down upon him. He had tried so hard to be cunning and smooth, to use the right weapon in every battle, to outwit the hand of Death which never stopped reaching for him. But it had come at last. There was no way out. Rupert Giles sighed deeply and pushed his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. "Very well," he intoned. "Just do it."
"You're dead," Andrew called gleefully.
"Bloody game," Rupert muttered, withdrawing from the game and swearing, once more, never to play with children.
The End, rated PG/K+
Willow/Kennedy in
She doesn't tell her she can't kill her as she sits back and watches her begin the spell that will change the world. She knows she needs to believe that right now, that she would never try the spell if she thought, for one moment, that Kennedy couldn't do what she believes might be needed. Kenn can only guess at just how bad Willow was when she lost control before, but she knows a few things for certain even now.
She knows that, if Willow fails, they are all sitting ducks. Not a one of them will survive this fight. She knows, too, that all of them, from Buffy all the way down to the newest potential, has loads of courage to be on this day, and she realizes it isn't just courage keeping her pinned to this post. It takes courage to fight when you don't really think you can win.
It takes courage, too, to love. She thought it was hard tricking Willow into going out on a date with her, but Willow was the one who really had to have the courage to love again. Kennedy's willing to thank whatever God or Goddess helped her to do it, if only she knew Which One to thank. She never believed in more than one God before meeting Willow, but her Witch does. She'll share that belief and any others she needs her to believe.
Belief is as important as their courage in this moment, Kennedy realizes as she watches Willow begin to glow. Will believes she can kill her. Buffy believes in Willow; the other potentials and her friends believe in Buffy. As for Kennedy, she believes in the woman sitting in front of her. She believes she can do this. She can save the world through this spell, and when she comes back to herself, Kennedy believes, too, that they'll get out of this battle alive. They have to, because she wants a lifetime to love her Witchy woman and she always gets what she wants.
The End, rated PG/K+
Angel/Cordy in
Come as you are. Come as you are into my dreams, into my heart, my arms, my home, into me. Come as you are, and love me as you will. Forget the Slayer, or don't. Just love me more. Love me as I love you, or at least, love me as you can. I don't care how dark you become, how mean you may be to me when you think you've lost it all. You'll never lose me. I'll always love you. Just come as you are to me, now, before it's too late.
Those are the words she should have whispered to him long ago. They are the words she ached to scream that night on the bridge, and they are the ones she'll tell her Angel whenever he finally gets to her in Heaven.
The End
Buffy and Ensemble in
She awoke to eerie silence and slipped out of bed. On socked feet, she crept across the floor. She didn't want to wake her mother or her sister. The first several times this happened, Buffy should have wondered why she thought of a sister didn't have, but everything seemed normal. It was just another sleepless night for the world's only Vampire Slayer.
Only it wasn't. The hairs on her arms stood on end as she left her bedroom behind. The entire house was quiet, as deathly quiet as a tomb, she thought, although having always thought the saying overused before. She moved on, walking through the halls that were longer than any in any house she'd ever lived or visited, until she at last reached the living room. She screamed at the sight of her mother laying still on their couch, her eyes glazed over by Death's cold hand.
Then she opened a door and looked in on her little sister. The atmosphere was suddenly as cold as ice, and so was her sister's body. Her big, brown eyes stared at her, wide, innocent, and completely lifeless. Buffy screamed again, and her world spun and changed.
She was now in her high school, but the entire school seemed as deathly quiet as her home had been previously. Once more, she walked the halls for what seemed like endless hours until they did end. She peered in at a classroom and found all the students and the teacher sitting at their desks, all still from the affects of Death. Cordelia was there in that room, as lifeless as all the rest.
She turned and ran, threw open double doors, and stopped inside the library. This was her home away from home. This was her safe haven. She and Giles might not always see eye to eye, but her Watcher would stop Death from coming to her. She wouldn't be like all the other Slayers and die too young. Giles would save her.
Only it was too late to save Giles. He, Willow, Xander, and Oz all sat at the table, ancient textbooks pied all around them. Their eyes were all turned toward her, as though they had been waiting for her and she had not arrived in time. The books spilled over the table, poured over their bodies, tripping them to the floor. The onslaught of rippling pages silenced Buffy's screams as they washed over her.
The books suddenly gave way. A body pressed down upon hers. She reached out to push it away and stopped, her hands freezing on a familiar black leather duster, as she saw the face of this most recent corpse. "Angel!"
"We tried, Buffy. We all tried to love you, but it wasn't enough, was it, pet? In the end, we couldn't keep you from it. We can't keep you."
It wasn't Angel who spoke. She looked wildly around until her eyes locked with a piercing, blue gaze. The blonde Vampire who spoke turned to dust before her very eyes. At the same time, Angel's body became dust raining down on her. The dust quickly became like a sea, and she was swept under.
Buffy blinked. She was no longer drowning, not in Vampire dust or in books. The school had vanished along with her friends' corpses. She was alone again, not even Angel for company. She had just seen him turn to dust, and yet, somehow, she knew he was alive.
He was alive, or undead, but where was she? A bright white . . . thing surrounded her. She could not tell if it was light or solid, if the whiteness belonged to walls or clouds or something else entirely. It was just . . . white all around her.
She sensed movement behind her and whirled to meet her opponent. The first Slayer was there, but she did not want to fight. She only looked at her, piercing her with a deep, wild gaze that seemed to penetrate her very soul, and then she was gone again and Buffy was finally awake.
She was awake and looking into the panicked eyes of the young girl who should never have become a girl, the sister she'd not had when those prophetic dreams had started but was nonetheless her sister. It didn't matter that she was the Key. It didn't matter that she hadn't really grown up with Buffy or that their mother was not truly the same. Dawn didn't even have a mother really, but none of that mattered.
Buffy knew what she had to do. She'd have had to do it even if she didn't love Dawn, but she did. She loved Dawn and Angel and Spike and Giles and Willow and Xander, and every one of them would die if she didn't do this. She made her move, understanding her dreams at last, hearing her sister cry for her, knowing each of her friends, who were really more of a family to her, would feel a piece of them die when she died, and knowing she was doing the right thing. She was giving them the gift that was the only thing she could give them now and had always been the most important thing.
She didn't die for the world. She didn't die just for Dawn. She died for her world, and with that knowledge and her last breath, Buffy smiled. She smiled and whispered words she knew they would all come to understand though they couldn't hear her, "I love you all."
The End, rated PG-13/T
Buffy in
She knows it heralds trouble the moment she sees the heart-shaped box laying on her pillow. It tries twice before finally managing to lift the box; her fingers shake as she raises the lid. She stares at the small box's contents, unable to scream, too tired to release the sounds of terror bubbling inside her throat.
Finally, she drops it. She grimaces, shaking all over, as the bloody fingers pop out of the box and onto her bed. The ring on one confirms their identity. Slowly, Buffy slides to the floor. Her favorite singer will never play her guitar again.
The End, rated PG/K+
Angel/Cordy with mentions of Angel/Buffy and Angel(us)/Darla in
When he was young, he was always chasing one skirt after another. He thought life was all about women and the pleasure they brought. Then Darla came to him, bringing him new life and more power and pleasure than he had ever before imagined. It was a female Gypsy who cursed him so that he no longer wanted to live until he saw Buffy. Now, though Buffy lives, because Cordelia does not, he again does not want to live. Angel smirks as he reminisces and realizes that he was right all those centuries ago: It is always about a girl.
The End, rated PG-13/T
