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Entry tags:
Black Cloud of Power
Title: Black Cloud of Power
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Character/Pairing: Willow, Spike, could be seen as impending Spike/Willow
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
bad_swa Bingo: Leather Jacket
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 1,546
Date Written: 29 March, 2016
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.
It's laying there, when she walks into the Summers' kitchen, like a black cloud of danger. Xander doesn't appear to notice. He just keeps on talking and walks on into the next room, where the others are starting to gather, never realizing that his best friend has stopped and is staring at the leather jacket flung over a chair.
She wonders why he took it off. She's never seen the Vampire without his jacket. It's a part of him, like Angel's billowing, dark jacket is a part of him or Buffy's stake is of her or even Giles' glasses are of him. Her fingers tremble as she reaches out to it. A noise in the next room sends her jerking her hand swiftly back to her side. She looks apprehensively at the doorway, but no one's coming.
She waits, her heart beating so loudly in her small chest that she's quite certain the Big Bad can hear it from the next room. The jacket shouldn't mean anything to her. It shouldn't appeal to her. He shouldn't appeal to her, but there's something about the Vampire that she finds . . . puzzling. Yes, she'll go with puzzling for now.
He's a bad guy. He's a villain, but this isn't the first time he's helped Buffy save the world. She also knows about the hot cocoa he likes to share with Joyce, having stopped by once with homework for Buffy and found the two sharing a couple of cups. Joyce had invited her warmly, but Willow hadn't dared stay. She'd ran from her best friend's home as fast as she could go and then called Buffy to make sure she knew the Vamp was sharing chocolate with her mother. After all, he couldn't possibly have a good reason for being so close to Joyce, and Vampires only drank blood. They didn't need anything else, so that couldn't be the reason for his being so nice with Joyce.
He is a dangerous man, Willow reminds herself sternly. He might be saving the world to protect his lover, and that might be sweet and all, sweeter than any other Vampire they've met yet for sure except for, maybe, Angel. But he will not hesitate to kill her. He'll bite her neck in a second, she thinks, even as her trembling fingers touch his leather.
His jacket is definitely made of the finest cow hide. It's smooth and soft underneath her fingertips, but not too soft. She strokes the leather, seeing him in it, seeing that cheeky smile he so often flashes her friend. He is dangerous. This is dangerous. A chill spreads through her, but she doesn't stop stroking the leather.
She likes the way it feels beneath her fingers. That has nothing to do with him. Maybe she should ask for a leather jacket for her birthday, not that her parents will ever buy her one or even allow her to wear one. Cordelia was right. She may have seen the softer side of Sears, as the mean cheerleader put it, but she'll never be able to dress truly fashionably.
She wonders what it would feel like to wear one. Both Angel and Spike always have a dark, mysterious, and powerful air about them. They are Vampires, and that could explain all of that. But she's seen other Vampires who aren't nearly as strong or powerful. She has yet to meet another Vampire she'd put in the same league as the two she knows who wear leather jackets. The jackets can't be the reason for their power -- it's probably the centuries' experience they've had killing humans --, but still, she wonders if it might add to their air a small amount of mystery, power, and darkness.
Can it do that for her? she wonders. Can it at least make her look a little bit dangerous, a little bit powerful? She's so tired of just being the sweet girl next door. No one will ever take her as a threat, and she isn't. She likes to imagine herself training to become like Buffy, being able to kill Vampires and all, but that will never be her. She just isn't the physical type, but it would be so cool if she could have some power.
Willow is so lost in her thoughts that she doesn't realize she's picked up the jacket until she finds herself sliding one arm into it. The inside lining is even softer than the outside. It is heavy, but she can handle the weight. She has one arm all the way in when voices rise in the next room. She freezes again, panicked eyes flashing to the door, but they lower again and no one steps her way.
She slips the jacket on the rest of the way before she can change her mind or some one can barge in and interrupt her. It feels soft yet strong surrounding her. She closes her eyes, imagining herself wearing it out into the night, seeing herself walking down the halls of Sunnydale High. Maybe seeing her looking all powerful in this jacket would be enough to finally shut Cordelia and the other cheerleaders up. She is so weary of being constantly picked on, and even her friendship with the Slayer hasn't helped her in that regard. It's made Buffy an outcast, too.
Her eyes still closed, a scent strikes Willow's nose. She stills inside the big, warm, and comforting jacket that dwarfs her small frame. It's the odor of Spike's cigarettes. She's never liked the idea of smoking. She's always found it disgusting and knows well the dangers it brings. It isn't a good idea. It isn't a good thing, no more than he is a good man.
But right now, the smell of his smokes is alluring to her. She keeps her eyes closed, imagining him in his jacket, smoking one cigarette after another as she's seen him do. Then her mind slips, and he's no longer smoking. He's got his arms wrapped around her instead, bringing her softly against his hard front. She swallows hard, heartbeat racing, and, without thinking, licks her lips. The jacket pressing into her back feels so much like the mysterious, sexy Vampire in her mind that she almost moans aloud.
Almost. But they are coming from the living room now, and Willow hurries to shrug out of the Vampire's jacket. Quickly, she lays it back onto the chair, hoping she's putting it back just as he had tossed it, and scoots to the fridge. She's pouring a drink when they actually do enter the room.
"There you are, Wills!" Buffy exclaims, smiling at her friend. "Xander said you came with him."
"What happened to her?" her other best friend asks suspiciously.
The little redhead shrugs. "I was thirsty," she says, not daring to meet their eyes. "I knew Buffy and her mother wouldn't mind if I got something to drink."
"Of course not, Willow," interjects Joyce, smiling. "You're always welcome."
"I know, Missus Summers. Thank you." She smiles bashfully but still won't meet their eyes. Movement out of the corner of her eyes brings her gaze to the bleached Vampire as he's shrugging into his jacket. She watches him sniff as he flips his collar up, and then his eyes meet hers. He smiles directly at her, and something funny flutters deep inside of her stomach. She swiftly looks away. "Can I fix you guys something?"
"Only if you've got some blood you're willing to give -- "
"SPIKE!" Buffy flashes angry eyes on the Vampire, who shrugs and shoots her one of his cocky, teeth-filled grins.
"Can't blame a bloke for asking, Slayer. I'll meet you in an hour."
"Buffy," Giles calls from the doorway, still cleaning his spectacles, "I have to say I am still not quite certain I like this plan."
"You're w-working with Spike again?" Willow asks nervously. She'll let them think she's worried for her friend, not that she's scared because she can still feel the Vampire's hungry eyes boring into the back of her neck. She tries to shrink her neck deeper into her pink sweater.
"Just for tonight, bit," Spike answers, sliding by her. "Your friend needs my help saving the world again."
"You wish." Buffy glowers and doesn't notice Willow trembling as Spike slides by her, the sides of his billowing, leather jacket and the back of one pale hand brushing across her back as he moves. No one else notices the small gesture, but it freezes Willow to the spot. She knew she shouldn't have been so stupid as to try on his jacket. Now he's got her scent!
And he does, indeed, have her scent. He walks out into the hot night air, smiling broadly to himself. The Slayer and her little pets need him again. If they're not careful, they'll soon be welcoming him with open arms, but, perhaps best of all, is the scent of her scared, shy, little friend. It's inside of his jacket, wrapping around him now as he walks and making it easy to imagine what it would feel like to have her blood rushing inside of him. He flashes his fangs in his cocky, self-assured grin and walks off into the night, quietly growling with hunger he knows will one night be sated.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Character/Pairing: Willow, Spike, could be seen as impending Spike/Willow
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt:
bad_swa Bingo: Leather JacketWarning(s): None
Word Count: 1,546
Date Written: 29 March, 2016
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.
It's laying there, when she walks into the Summers' kitchen, like a black cloud of danger. Xander doesn't appear to notice. He just keeps on talking and walks on into the next room, where the others are starting to gather, never realizing that his best friend has stopped and is staring at the leather jacket flung over a chair.
She wonders why he took it off. She's never seen the Vampire without his jacket. It's a part of him, like Angel's billowing, dark jacket is a part of him or Buffy's stake is of her or even Giles' glasses are of him. Her fingers tremble as she reaches out to it. A noise in the next room sends her jerking her hand swiftly back to her side. She looks apprehensively at the doorway, but no one's coming.
She waits, her heart beating so loudly in her small chest that she's quite certain the Big Bad can hear it from the next room. The jacket shouldn't mean anything to her. It shouldn't appeal to her. He shouldn't appeal to her, but there's something about the Vampire that she finds . . . puzzling. Yes, she'll go with puzzling for now.
He's a bad guy. He's a villain, but this isn't the first time he's helped Buffy save the world. She also knows about the hot cocoa he likes to share with Joyce, having stopped by once with homework for Buffy and found the two sharing a couple of cups. Joyce had invited her warmly, but Willow hadn't dared stay. She'd ran from her best friend's home as fast as she could go and then called Buffy to make sure she knew the Vamp was sharing chocolate with her mother. After all, he couldn't possibly have a good reason for being so close to Joyce, and Vampires only drank blood. They didn't need anything else, so that couldn't be the reason for his being so nice with Joyce.
He is a dangerous man, Willow reminds herself sternly. He might be saving the world to protect his lover, and that might be sweet and all, sweeter than any other Vampire they've met yet for sure except for, maybe, Angel. But he will not hesitate to kill her. He'll bite her neck in a second, she thinks, even as her trembling fingers touch his leather.
His jacket is definitely made of the finest cow hide. It's smooth and soft underneath her fingertips, but not too soft. She strokes the leather, seeing him in it, seeing that cheeky smile he so often flashes her friend. He is dangerous. This is dangerous. A chill spreads through her, but she doesn't stop stroking the leather.
She likes the way it feels beneath her fingers. That has nothing to do with him. Maybe she should ask for a leather jacket for her birthday, not that her parents will ever buy her one or even allow her to wear one. Cordelia was right. She may have seen the softer side of Sears, as the mean cheerleader put it, but she'll never be able to dress truly fashionably.
She wonders what it would feel like to wear one. Both Angel and Spike always have a dark, mysterious, and powerful air about them. They are Vampires, and that could explain all of that. But she's seen other Vampires who aren't nearly as strong or powerful. She has yet to meet another Vampire she'd put in the same league as the two she knows who wear leather jackets. The jackets can't be the reason for their power -- it's probably the centuries' experience they've had killing humans --, but still, she wonders if it might add to their air a small amount of mystery, power, and darkness.
Can it do that for her? she wonders. Can it at least make her look a little bit dangerous, a little bit powerful? She's so tired of just being the sweet girl next door. No one will ever take her as a threat, and she isn't. She likes to imagine herself training to become like Buffy, being able to kill Vampires and all, but that will never be her. She just isn't the physical type, but it would be so cool if she could have some power.
Willow is so lost in her thoughts that she doesn't realize she's picked up the jacket until she finds herself sliding one arm into it. The inside lining is even softer than the outside. It is heavy, but she can handle the weight. She has one arm all the way in when voices rise in the next room. She freezes again, panicked eyes flashing to the door, but they lower again and no one steps her way.
She slips the jacket on the rest of the way before she can change her mind or some one can barge in and interrupt her. It feels soft yet strong surrounding her. She closes her eyes, imagining herself wearing it out into the night, seeing herself walking down the halls of Sunnydale High. Maybe seeing her looking all powerful in this jacket would be enough to finally shut Cordelia and the other cheerleaders up. She is so weary of being constantly picked on, and even her friendship with the Slayer hasn't helped her in that regard. It's made Buffy an outcast, too.
Her eyes still closed, a scent strikes Willow's nose. She stills inside the big, warm, and comforting jacket that dwarfs her small frame. It's the odor of Spike's cigarettes. She's never liked the idea of smoking. She's always found it disgusting and knows well the dangers it brings. It isn't a good idea. It isn't a good thing, no more than he is a good man.
But right now, the smell of his smokes is alluring to her. She keeps her eyes closed, imagining him in his jacket, smoking one cigarette after another as she's seen him do. Then her mind slips, and he's no longer smoking. He's got his arms wrapped around her instead, bringing her softly against his hard front. She swallows hard, heartbeat racing, and, without thinking, licks her lips. The jacket pressing into her back feels so much like the mysterious, sexy Vampire in her mind that she almost moans aloud.
Almost. But they are coming from the living room now, and Willow hurries to shrug out of the Vampire's jacket. Quickly, she lays it back onto the chair, hoping she's putting it back just as he had tossed it, and scoots to the fridge. She's pouring a drink when they actually do enter the room.
"There you are, Wills!" Buffy exclaims, smiling at her friend. "Xander said you came with him."
"What happened to her?" her other best friend asks suspiciously.
The little redhead shrugs. "I was thirsty," she says, not daring to meet their eyes. "I knew Buffy and her mother wouldn't mind if I got something to drink."
"Of course not, Willow," interjects Joyce, smiling. "You're always welcome."
"I know, Missus Summers. Thank you." She smiles bashfully but still won't meet their eyes. Movement out of the corner of her eyes brings her gaze to the bleached Vampire as he's shrugging into his jacket. She watches him sniff as he flips his collar up, and then his eyes meet hers. He smiles directly at her, and something funny flutters deep inside of her stomach. She swiftly looks away. "Can I fix you guys something?"
"Only if you've got some blood you're willing to give -- "
"SPIKE!" Buffy flashes angry eyes on the Vampire, who shrugs and shoots her one of his cocky, teeth-filled grins.
"Can't blame a bloke for asking, Slayer. I'll meet you in an hour."
"Buffy," Giles calls from the doorway, still cleaning his spectacles, "I have to say I am still not quite certain I like this plan."
"You're w-working with Spike again?" Willow asks nervously. She'll let them think she's worried for her friend, not that she's scared because she can still feel the Vampire's hungry eyes boring into the back of her neck. She tries to shrink her neck deeper into her pink sweater.
"Just for tonight, bit," Spike answers, sliding by her. "Your friend needs my help saving the world again."
"You wish." Buffy glowers and doesn't notice Willow trembling as Spike slides by her, the sides of his billowing, leather jacket and the back of one pale hand brushing across her back as he moves. No one else notices the small gesture, but it freezes Willow to the spot. She knew she shouldn't have been so stupid as to try on his jacket. Now he's got her scent!
And he does, indeed, have her scent. He walks out into the hot night air, smiling broadly to himself. The Slayer and her little pets need him again. If they're not careful, they'll soon be welcoming him with open arms, but, perhaps best of all, is the scent of her scared, shy, little friend. It's inside of his jacket, wrapping around him now as he walks and making it easy to imagine what it would feel like to have her blood rushing inside of him. He flashes his fangs in his cocky, self-assured grin and walks off into the night, quietly growling with hunger he knows will one night be sated.
The End
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