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buffyfic-digest       Tuesday, October 20 1998       Volume 02 : Number 356



In this issue:

       BUFFYFIC: SpikeFic: Sister of Night (1/1)
       BUFFYFIC: "Samhain Intermission" 1/1

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Date: Mon, 19 Oct 1998 00:55:50 -0400
From: ~Ripe Wicked Plum~ <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: SpikeFic: Sister of Night (1/1)

Title: Sister of Night (1/1)
Author: ~Ripe Wicked Plum~ a.k.a. Goth Spike
E-mail: [e-mail]
Feedback: "Fancy it, Pet?"
Distribution: Spike's Spike (if sandycat wants it) and Spike Girls.
All others please ask first.
Rating: PG
Summary: Spike/Drusilla song fic.
Disclaimer: Spike, Dru, and Angel are all Joss' creatures. I'm just
borrowing them to amuse myself. "Sister of Night" is all the work of
M.L. Gore. I'm just borrowing his beautiful words to help tell a tale.
It can be found on Depeche Mode's Ultra album.
Notes: My first Spike/Dru fic. I never thought I'd do one, but this song
just spoke to me. Takes place during "What's My Line?" Part two, before
Spike wakes Dru up. Told from Spike's point of view, similar to a stream
of consciousness.

        I can hear the radio playing as I walk down the stairs. I drop
my
captive on the landing and cross over to the bed where she lays. She
looks
so peaceful. I love to watch her sleep. Her dark hair fanned out on her
pillow. My princess. My frail, sick princess.
        It's been so hard for me to see her like this. I watched her
grow
weaker and weaker. First she stopped hunting, then she stopped feeding
altogether.

"Sister of night
when the hunger descends
and your body's a fire
an inferno that never ends
an eternal flame
that burns in desire's name"

        She's dreaming, I can tell. Her hands are grabbing at something.
Sometimes I try to guess what it is. Maybe she's picking flowers, or
catching bubbles, or snowflakes. Dru always loved to catch them on her
tongue. Maybe when this is all over we'll go back to England for winter.
She'll like that. We'll go back to the old house and forget about
SunnyHell or whatever this blasted place is called.
        The Hellmouth was supposed to help her get strong again, but so
far
it's only made things worse. It's that bloody Slayer. She's been taking
my attention away from Dru. Instead of staying home and taking care of
her like I should, I've been fighting that blonde bitch constantly. It's
time to put her in the ground and get back to taking care of Dru.

"Sister of night
when the longing returns
giving voice to the flame
calling you through flesh that burns
breaking down your will
to move in for the kill"

        I can hear her whispering something. Probably bits of an old
song or a
nursery rhyme. She does that a lot. She might be talking to her family.
I've overheard her talk to her mother several times. She usually wakes
up crying. She does that a lot, too. Not too much lately, though. She
hasn't had the energy to waste on tears.
        Every now and then I see a bit of the old Dru. That glimmer in
her
eyes. I know she's still in there somewhere. This ritual has got to
work. It's her last hope. I can't lose her. Not now. She's all I've got.

"Oh sister
come for me
embrace me
assure me
hey sister
I feel it too
sweet sister
just feel me
I'm trembling
you heal me
hey sister
I feel it too"

        I look over at Miss Edith, Dru's favorite doll. I've always
hated the damn thing, but I'd never tell her that. No matter how much
hair she loses or how cracked her porcelain features become, Dru doesn't
seem to mind. She takes better care of that bloody doll than she does
herself. Not a day goes by that Miss Edith doesn't have a tea party with
cake and scones. Yet, Dru will go weeks without eating. She acts like it
doesn't matter whether she lives or dies.
        She just keeps getting worse. The slightest breeze knocks her
over. She
can scarcely hold her head up anymore; she's so weak. She has so many
bruises on her arms that I'm almost afraid to touch her these days. I'm
scared I might break her.

"Sister of night
in your saddest dress
as you walk through the light
you're desperate to impress
so you slide to the floor
feeling insecure"

        There he sits on the stairs. Angelus the beautiful. Her kind and
loving
sire. Bastard. Drove her insane before he turned her. It's all his fault
she's the way she is.
        Dru just hasn't been the same since he left us. She's so
different
now. Her eyes, so sad. Sometimes, when she doesn't know I'm watching, I
see her looking at it. The portrait we had painted before he left. The
three of us, in our prime. I wanted to burn it, but Dru wouldn't let me.
She still loves him. She still loves him more than me.
        If I didn't need him to cure her, I'd kill him. I'd stake him
and dance
on his ashes. How dare he make us and then leave us? He just tossed us
aside like we were trash. We were his children, not his toys. Did
Angelus really think that he could turn his back on us and never pay the
consequences? He's going to die and I'm going to be the one to make it
happen. It's going to be better than bloody Christmas!

"Sister of night
with the loneliest eyes
tell yourself it's alright
he'll make such a perfect prize
but the cold light of day
will give the game away"

        Then I'll have her back. My beautiful princess. With her pale
skin and
dark hair. With those eyes. Oh, those eyes. I swear sometimes I lose
myself in them. Then there's the way she touches me. No matter how
furious I am
she calms me with the slightest touch. Sometimes I wish I could stay
mad. Sometimes I wish she didn't affect me so. Sometimes I wish I didn't
need her so much.
        I've never been dependent on anything before. Even my need for
blood
doesn't control me like she does. One glance and I melt like butter. I
know I shouldn't let her have that kind of control, but I can't help it.
She is the one shred of humanity left untouched by the demon inside me.
The one thing that keeps me from being like the rest of my kind.
        I just wish that she could make this uncertainty go away. For
the first
time in my life I'm scared. I don't know what I'll do if the ritual
doesn't work. I can't lose Dru. She's my princess. She's my world.

"Oh sister
come for me
embrace me
assure me
hey sister
I feel it too
sweet sister
just feel me
I'm trembling
you heal me
hey sister
I feel it too"

        I turn the radio off and sit down on the edge of the bed. She's
starting to stir. I touch her hair, wanting to let her sleep, but
knowing she needs to wake.
        Dru wakes, moaning a weak, "I was dreaming."
        "Of what, Pet?" I ask, genuinely curious.
        "We were in Paris. You 'ad a branding iron."
        Not feeling very nostalgic, I call her attention to present
times, "I
brought you something."
        I cross the room and pick Angelus up, dragging him into the room
as Dru
mumbles something about worms and a baguette.
        "Your sire, my sweet," I say, dumping him onto the floor.
        With some sadness, I see her perk up, "My Angel?"
        I come back over to the bed, saying, "The one and only. Now all
we
need's the full moon tonight, and he will die, and you will be fully
restored." I take the hand she offers, continuing, "My black goddess." I
kiss her hand and work up her arm, tempted to bite her. "My ripe, wicked
plum."
        I want her so bad I can almost taste it. Even after all these
years,
she still lights a flame in me like no one else ever could.
        I raise my head and look into those eyes, "It's been--"
        "Forever," she finishes, kissing me.
        Every inch of my body is on fire. It always reacts to her touch.
It's
like a drug. When I get a little taste of it I want more. I have to have
more. Every thought that rushes through my brain now tells me to take
her.
Take her right there on the bed in front of Angelus. Make him watch. We
break apart and I start to go back for more, but she stops me.
        "Spike, let me have him."
        She's been kissing me and thinking of him? I try to hide my
disappointment, but she sees it. She pushes further, making her point
clearer.
        "Hmm? Until the moon."
        She wants to torture him. I understand now. I suppose I should
let her
have her fun. She'll be happy, Angelus will be miserable, and it'll give
me time to get some sleep.
        I smile at the thought of Angelus suffering, "Alright, you can
play,
but don't kill him. He mustn't die 'til the ritual."
        "Bring him to me," she says, standing up.
        I go over to the father who abandoned us and yank him off of the
floor.
He struggles a bit as I drag him over to her. I see that twinkle in her
eye. My princess is back, if only for the moment. She grabs hold of his
chin, forcing him to look at her. To see the girl that he drove insane.
To see the monster he made.
        "You've been a very bad daddy," she says before slapping him
across the
face.
        I smile, quite pleased with her. I wasn't expecting her to want
to make
him suffer. Maybe this is a good sign. Perhaps she'll be back to her old
self after tonight. Then we can hunt together all night and play all
day. Like old times. Except this time, no Angelus to spoil the fun. Just
the two of us. Like it should be.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

~Ripe Wicked Plum~ <---who feels really nervous about this fic...it's
different from my normal work. Don't know if that's a good thing or a
bad thing.
- --
Goth Spike/ICQ=2607806/Member:Spike Girls/Spike4Sexiest/Spike's
Minions/Spuffy/Spike's Sweeties (#2)/SOOA[Major General (#5)]/I'm
Spike's Ducks/Pres. and founder of the Leo is a Bloody Whelp Club/Keeper
of Spike's terms of endearment and his gloves/Guardian of Spike's
humanity, his amusement at Buffy's Hallowe'en costume, and his ability
to swallow his pride and help Buffy/Keeper of Dru's spiffy wardrobe and
her bruises/ Guardian of Dru's gothness and her fondness for Rasputina.

------------------------------

Date: Tue, 20 Oct 1998 11:47:27 EDT
From: "The Mistress" <[e-mail]>
Subject: BUFFYFIC: "Samhain Intermission" 1/1

Title: "Samhain Intermission"
Author: EA Karras
Feedback: I live for it.
Distribution: Slayerfanfic, but I'll stick it in the submission box.
All others, ask.
Rating: PG
Summary: Whistler meets a psychic teacher, and brings him to Sunnydale.
Disclaimer:Whistler is Joss' creature of demonic beauty.  Tom Grissom is
mine, and is usually found in my Homicide fic.
Notes: There's a fic that comes after this, but it's a Homicide fic.  So
if you want to read it, email me.  It's entitled "Samhain Rain".
There's spoilers for Becoming in here, I think.  This is part of a
series, entitled: "External POV".  This is occuring during Buffy's
Halloween ep. This fic is also part of a series entitled: "Alt Six", and
takes place after two other fics.  If you want to know what happened to
Tom before this, but don't want to wait for the sequel, email me.
Thanks.

- -----

October 31, 1997

Catherine Dulgar shook her head, smiling at her brother in a semi-amused
manner. She was ten years older than him and never
gave up a chance to let him know it. "You look like hell, Tom." She had
been out of town when he was shot, and had thrown a fit when
she'd come home.

"I feel it." Tom had spent most of his sick leave working at his
sister's bar. He was due back at Loch Raven after the weekend, and
dreading every minute of it. Some might call it fear, he called it
progressive paranoia. "But, I'll be fine. I always am."

"I worry about you, little brother." She squeezed his shoulder,
lovingly. "Would you mind closing up tonight? I know it's short notice,
but..."

He took her order book, and nodded. "No, it's ok. Mike's working late."
The truth was, he had been avoiding Mike, and Mike had been avoiding
him. "Taking Julie trick or treating?"

She nodded, and hated herself when she saw the sad look in his eyes.
"You sure you'll be ok?" He smiled, and nodded. She gave him a peck
on the cheek. "Call me when you get home. Ok?"

"Yeah."

***

He closed up at midnight, not having the energy to stay open any later.
Cathy hadn't minded, as she'd said: she worried about him. Checking the
lock, he turned around to find someone standing right behind him. His
heart practically leapt into his heart. "We're closed..." he blurted
out.

"The Oracle...huh. I knew one of those once..." The man resembled Brodie
in a way, and sounded a lot like him. "Referring to any particular one?"

"Um..." Tom was unnerved. "No. It's sort of a family joke...Don't I know
you?"

"Not yet. You want to?"

Grinning, the psychic laughed. "You use that line often?"

The man thought. "Hm...not since the '30s..."

"You look a little young for the 1930s. What're you, a vampire or
something?"

The conversationalist's turn to laugh. "No, I'm not a vampire." He
looked serious now. "But, my best friend is..." He took a step
towards Grissom, who backed up.

Tom felt a chill go through him. Something told him this guy was for
real. "Yeah? Well, mine's a cop..."

Following him out of the entrance, the guy tried to smooth things over.
"Relax, guy. Look, I'm not going to hurt you..."

"Right."

"I need your help." He looked frustrated when Tom wouldn't stop walking.
"As a psychic and as a teacher, Mr. Grissom."

That got Grissom's attention. He froze to the spot. "How'd you know
my name?" He still didn't turn to the other man.

"I know a lot about you. Failed marriage. Dead daughter. Love affairs
gone horribly wrong. You could be an Shakespearean tragedy. Believe me,
I knew the guy. He'd love you..."

"You..."

"And I know you're dying. And I can help."

"You...Who are you?"

"Whistler. Call me Whistler..."

"Why do you need my help?"

"Let me show you..."

***

"I did not 'stand him up'," Kellerman said over his beer. Munch and
Lewis both stood behind the bar, each had a different degree of
annoyance on their face. "I didn't."

Lewis rolled his eyes. "You lied to him, then. You told him you were
working to avoid seeing him."

"Sounds like a stand up to me.." Munch polished a glass. "What'd he do,
throw another potato at you?"

"He didn't do anything..."

Lewis looked at Munch, and grinned. "Uh huh."

***

Tom closed his apartment door behind him. "So show me..." Whistler
grabbed his hand. "What...?" Maybe he'd been wrong about this guy.

"I want you to look into my mind."

"I can't..."

Whistler shook his head. "You can, I know you can. Do it."

Closing his eyes, Tom took in a deep breath.

He could see fire...flames...creation...everything...

"Oh my God..."

He could see everything. Usually the things he saw when connected to
someone mind, on the rare occasion he did it, were little snippets. The
little things, or bits of the big picture. With Whistler, he could see
everything. Everything he'd done, and been. Everyone Whistler had ever
known. Creatures he'd never even dreamed existed.

When he came out of it, he was being supported by Whistler. His legs
threatened to collapse. "Oh my God..."

"I think you may have gone a bit overboard..." Whistler helped the
psychic to a chair.

"Why do you need my help?" Tom whispered, hoarsely. Whistler was
obviously a very capable person. Or whatever he was.

Whistler pulled over another chair, and sat in front of Tom. "You're
a good teacher, and you could be a great psychic if you could always do
what you just did. I want you to help me help the Slayer, and I'll help
you with your cancer..."

"How can you help me?"

"The hellmouth has...healing properties..."

"The hellmouth?"

"Boca de Infierno, baby." Whistler grinned, teasingly. "Come with
me to Sunnydale. I'll show you what I mean."

Tom shook his head. "I've got obligations..."

"Some obligations. A lover who avoids you, and a school you're
afraid to go back to..." He grinned, even more sillier. "Nice."

***

Mike felt guilty about avoiding Tom, though he was aware Tom had been
doing the same to him. He stopped by Tom's apartment to find it
almost completely empty.

His clothes, and several boxes of junk were gone. There were three notes
on the fridge, one for Cathy, one for him, the third a letter
of resignation.

"Mike,

Love you much. Call you soon. Job opened up in Calif., grabbed it up.
I'll be back, I promise.

Tom"

Kellerman stared at the note, unsure of what he was supposed to do, or
how he was supposed to feel.

- ----

I know...pretty bad...




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