2010 Fic Roundup Part 1: jossverse_las
Here's Part 1 in what should prove to be a multi-part summary of my fic for the year. Funny, I only started writing fic perhaps 6 months ago, little drabbles here and there for whedonland competitions. A mere 2 months ago, I started writing longer fic for myself, and now I've caught the bug.
But enough reflection. For the past few months, I've participated in a Last Author Standing competition at jossverse_las. It gave me a chance to stretch my gen muscles. The most amazing part is that I made it to the last round! All stories are 300 - 1000 words. Most are new to my journal.
Challenge 1: Habits
Story Title: Night Sounds
Show: Buffy
Character/Relationships: Buffy, Joyce, Dawn
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Joyce’s nightly routine never varied. She made her rounds starting at the front door, to the back door, checking all of the downstairs windows in between, making sure the house was closed up tight. Next, a quick check-in on Buffy, then Dawn, seeing that neither was up late reading, in Dawn’s case, nor on the phone, in Buffy’s. Finally, assured that everything was in order, she would get herself off to bed. Even after she learned about her older daughter’s special abilities, she continued this ritual, wanting to assure herself that everything was safe for her girls.
Lying in her bed, Buffy would listen to the patter of her mother’s feet travelling from room to room. Sometimes she pretended to be asleep when her mother opened her door. Sometimes, when she needed it, she grabbed an extra goodnight kiss.
The first night she lay in her own bed after the funeral, Buffy listened to the silence. Even with Dawn down the hall, the house felt cavernously empty. Unable to take the absence any longer, she rose out of bed. Down the stairs she went, to the front door, the back door, the windows. When she reached Dawn’s room, she paused. It was such a motherly act, to open a door and look in on a sleeping child. Was that who Buffy was now? Dawn’s mother? She sighed, gently closed Dawn’s door, and continued on to her own empty room.
The habit never stuck for Buffy. Besides, what did it matter? If disaster wanted to enter the Summers home, it always found a way in.
Challenge 2: Write an alternate ending to a season finale episode.
Story Title: Holding On
Character/Relationships: Buffy
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: character death
She always knew it would end like this. From the moment she had been called, an expiration date had been stamped on her life. She just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. Somehow, despite all she knew, she still had that adolescent impulse to feel invincible. Invincible, a girl destined for an early, brutal death. But she supposed that all Slayers before her had clung to that hope. They needed it to face their daily battles.
Strange, she had always wondered what death would feel like. Not like this, for sure. No memories flashing before her eyes, no white light, no fade to black. Instead, she seemed suspended in an endless moment, trapped in her body with her swirling thoughts. And it hurt. Oh, god, it hurt! At least part of her imaginings had come true, but why did it have to be that one?
Now, she could feel her life slipping away as her blood slipped out of her body. Desperately, she struggled to stay in the moment, to stay with the pain. But it was too late. Her short time was over. She had failed. Then she was falling, falling. She didn’t even feel the cold splash of the water. She was already gone.
Challenge 3: Pick a character, and write about their past, something we don't know in canon.
Story Title: The Keeper of Secrets
Character/Relationships: Dawn
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
She knows. She knows so much. She knows they underestimate her, the baby, the brat. It grants her an invisibility that allows her to gather her information. Dawn Summers: keeper of secrets.
She knows her sister has a secret. One moment, she's regular, old Buffy, giggling on the phone with her friends about boys. Boys! Dawn swears she will never waste her time on those annoying creatures. Then, one night Buffy comes home a different person, quiet, contemplative. She begins to sneak out at night. From her window, Dawn can watch her slip quietly across the backyard, over the fence. Since when did her sister become so athletic?
She knows when her parents start fighting that the end is near. She can see it in the slump of her mother’s shoulders, in the hard line of her father’s jaw. Crouched in the shadows at the top of the stairs, peering through the bars of the banister, she listens to the nasty words they fling at each other. She is surprised that two people who are supposed to love each other can be so mean. They fight mostly about Buffy. Leave it to her sister to ruin everything.
A Slayer. Dawn isn’t quite sure what that is, but she knows what it means. It means they have to leave home. It means they have to move to a tiny town hours from her friends, hours from her father. It means no more father-daughter outings. No more new dolls. Mom can’t afford them. Mom had never even spoken to her about money before they moved to this awful house, with her tiny room that is half the size of Buffy’s.
A vague scratching sound alerts Dawn to look out her window. There is Buffy, clamoring down the roof. But, wait, is that someone waiting for her? A guy? In the dark, Dawn can barely make out his features. His black coat blends into the night. Buffy doesn’t pause to say hello as she and this mystery man melt into the dark.
With a sigh, Dawn turns on her bedside lamp. She reaches under her mattress to pull out her latest diary, her repository of secrets. Here is one more to add the pile. She sees everything, keeps all of their secrets for them. If they only knew.
Challenge 4: "I haven't failed, I just found another way that doesn't work."
Story Title: If At First You Don't Succeed...
Character/Relationships: Willow, Xander
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Willow closed her eyes. Opening her mind, she reached out with her senses. The incense flowed around her, permeating her being. The candles created a soft, reddish glow behind her eyelids. Slowly, she could feel that spark of power begin to glow inside of her, lifting her to a higher plane. She spoke the words.
“Willow, fire! Fire!” She opened her eyes, and crashed back to Earth. The altar was on fire, and Xander was desperately trying to stomp out the flames, destroying the carefully constructed tower of offerings in his haste. Willow picked up the tea she had been attempting to bless and poured it over the few remaining embers, extinguishing them.
She leaned back against the wall with a sigh. This was why she had insisted that they do the spell in Xander’s basement. She had run out of plausible explanations for her burnt carpet and bedspreads. Here, no one would notice a few scorch marks.
Xander was pacing around the room, more agitated than when they began. “Willow, that was the third spell! You have to get this reversal charm before tomorrow!”
“Xander, I told you, your face will return to normal in about a week on its own.”
Pointing at his pimple covered chin, he yelled, “I can’t go into school looking like this! Can you imagine what Cordelia will say? She hardly speaks to me in public as it is.” His desperation was palpable.
Willow countered calmly, “Well, then you should have come to me before trying that concealer charm. How did you get that one tiny pimple to grow into fifty?”
Chastened, he lowered his voice to a more conciliatory tone. “Willow. That’s three failed spells. Do you really think you can do this?”
The whole venture had left her ego a little bruised. Squaring up her shoulders, she said, “I haven’t failed. I just found another way that doesn’t work.” Xander slumped, obviously losing hope. “Besides, you can always tell them you caught the plague.”
(Challenge 5 skipped)
Challenge 6: [character] needs a lawyer
Story Title: What's in a Name?
Character/Relationships: Angel, refers to B/A
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Angel shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Sweating, he tugged at his collar for the tenth time. His tie seemed to get tighter with each passing minute. It was strange, these new sensations. From his hazy memory of his first human life, he had concluded that vampires felt more than humans. Now, he knew they only felt differently. Instead of reveling in its sensuous texture, he found the wool of his suit unbearably itchy. He swore to only buy silk from now on.
He looked at his watch. Only five minutes had passed since his arrival. Time moved differently now, too. His shortened years should race by; instead, he felt every second of his newly mortal life. He forced a calming breath in and out.
“Mr. Angel?” Finally. He stood and let the young secretary lead him into the lawyer’s office. She noted how stiffly he moved into the chair and smiled kindly. “There’s no need to be nervous, Mr. Angel. Mr. Jones can help you with anything you need.”
He forced a smile back at her. “I’ve just had some…mixed…experiences with lawyers.” The woman held her smile and walked out. Working in a law office, she was used to hearing people malign her employers.
After a short but interminable wait, the lawyer himself finally appeared. A balding, middle-aged man, he wore an ill-fitting off-the-rack suit and gave Angel’s hand a firm but welcoming grasp. He was about as far from Wolfram and Hart as you could get. After settling into his seat, he asked, “So, Mr. Angel, what can I help you with today?”
Angel cleared his throat. “If you’ve had a chance to look over my papers, you can see that I’ve had some problems with my identity.”
The man nodded. “It was hard to miss that you have only one name. Are you planning to start a music career?”
Angel’s mouth formed into a half-smile. “An affectation from my youth. Unfortunately, I was orphaned at a young age and raised in foster care. If you know our current welfare system, you won’t be surprised that all of the records of my birth were lost.”
“It’s a new identity you’re seeking, then.” The lawyer appraised him thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t be trying to run from anything, would you, Mr. Angel?”
Angel gave a genuine smile. “I’m done with running.”
The lawyer leaned back in his chair. “In that case, you’re in the uncommon position of being able to pick your own name. Do you have one in mind?” Angel pulled a slip of paper out of his breast pocket and handed it across the desk. The other man read it carefully. “Angel Liam Summers. That’s quite a conglomeration.” Angel simply smiled. “Alright, I’ll have the papers drawn up.”
Challenge 7: Apologies
Story Title: All That Remains
Character/Relationships: Willow
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: one swear word
Willow had never been very good at apologies. Maybe if she were, she wouldn't have lost so much. Or so many people. Or really, one person. The only person who mattered when it came right down to it. The rest of the world could go to Hell. As long as she had Tara, nothing else mattered.
But she didn't have Tara, and she never would again. Her fault. If she hadn't driven Tara away, they would never have had to make up. Tara never would have been standing in front of the bedroom window on that bright, sunny morning. She never would have been in the path of that errant bullet. She never would have died.
Then, Willow would never have tried to destroy the world. She never would have been sent to this rainy country where it was gray and cold all of the time. So far from the people she loved, who couldn't possibly love her anymore, not after she tried to kill every last one of them.
It had made so much sense at the time. If Tara was no longer in the world, then why should the world continue to exist? What was the point? Even as Willow cringed at the memory of her supreme selfishness, she longed for that clarity.
It was a damp day in England, as most had been. She sat brooding under a large oak tree at the top of a grassy rise. Staring out over the foggy hills, she felt insignificant and alone.
Giles had said to start small. Baby steps, creeping her way back to humanity. It hardly seemed worth it. Maybe if she refused to engage with the world, the world would forget her. She could just fade away into nothingness, no pain, no loss, just nothing.
No, she had to go on, if only to try to repent for all the harm she had done. She could never undo her crimes, but even a small gesture would be worth something, wouldn't it?
Small. Turning her eyes to the ground in front of her, she reached out with her senses. She felt the roots of the grass twining with other roots, deeper and deeper into the soil, until she could see the whole of the planet woven into a continuous stream of life. She focused on that web, seeking out the most fragile of creatures.
She opened her eyes. It was an orchid, blooming out of the ground into an alien landscape. The tiny, white petals rimmed yellow stamens. It was so beautiful that it was almost painful to look at. What right had she to wipe this being from existence? Settling down on her stomach on the wet grass, she got as close to eye level with the flower as she could. At this distance, she could make out tiny hairs on the plant's shining leaves.
The words began to form. They bubbled up through the aching chasm in her chest, reaching her throat, where they almost stuck. Taking a deep breath, she forced them out.
"I'm sorry." It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Challenge 8: It Takes A Village To Raise A Child
Show: BtVS
Story Title: Cities and Villages
Character/Relationships: Nicky and Robin Wood (the 70's New York City slayer and her son)
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
“Robin, get back here!” Nicky screamed. In horror, she watched her young son disappear into the Times Square crowd. Training all of her enhanced senses on him, she weaved and dashed through the mass of people, keeping her eye on the small, bobbing head.
A nighttime walk home from her Watcher’s apartment had turned into a game of hide-and-seek with a trio of vampires. Nicky knew she couldn’t afford to face them with Robin in tow, so she'd opted for evasion, trying to blend into the throngs of people who filled the streets on the warm Saturday night.
Now, she gave no mind to stealth, desperately yelling her son’s name and pushing people out of the way to reach him. How could a four-year-old move so fast?
Suddenly, something swept him up into the air. “Whoa there, little buddy. Where are you rushing off to?” A police officer. He had snatched Robin up just as the boy was about to run into the middle of midtown traffic.
Nicky came to a halt, her heart hammering in her chest. “Thank you, officer. I don’t know how he got away from me so fast.” The officer passed the boy back to her, and she clutched him tightly in her arms.
The officer straightened up, appraising her sternly. “Lady, this isn’t a place for kids. Shouldn’t that boy be at home, in bed?”
Chagrined, she lowered Robin to the ground, keeping a firm grip on his hand. “I work nights, sir. We were just on our way home.”
“I’m going to find the demons,” the boy piped up. “I’m going to help my mom kill them.”
The officer cocked an eyebrow. Nicky gave an embarrassed smile. “An overactive imagination. I think he might have seen something on TV.”
He gave a grim nod. “Just try to keep a closer eye on him next time.” Nicky flushed. The officer knelt down so he was eye level with Robin. “You take care of those demons, but don’t let your mom out of sight, either.”
Nicky led her son home. Eventhough the vamps no longer followed, a sense of doom lay over her. This wasn’t the first time she had put Robin in harm’s way. How long could she keep this up? Even her Watcher couldn’t play babysitter all of the time. If Robin ever got hurt because of her calling, she was through. She would quit. Run away to some quiet town that had never heard of demons. Maybe California. It was sunny there, a good deterrent against vampires.
This was the best life she could give her son. Always on the run, always trying to stay one step ahead, never getting to know the neighbors' kids, never getting to play like a normal boy. She kept him couped up in apartments, too fearful of discovery to let him out free.
It takes a village to raise a child. Nicky had heard that somewhere once. But she didn’t live in a village. She lived in a city, and there was no one to help her. She was all Robin had, and no power in the universe could make her leave him.
Challenge 9: [character] meets themselves from an alternate universe
Shows: BtVS
Story Title: If We Never Met
Character/Relationships: Buffy
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Buffy didn’t know what happened. One minute, she was picking up a statue in the Magic Box to get a closer look at it. The next, she was staring into her reflection. And her reflection had brunette hair. Her hand flew up to her hair, and she was relieved to find her blond locks intact. At the same time, her reflection grabbed at her own do and seemed equally relieved to find her hair still dyed. But wait, if her hair was still blond, why, wasn’t that reflected in the mirror?
The Buffys reached towards each other. Instead of hitting glass, their fingertips lightly touched. They both jumped back with a gasp.
“Who are you?” Brunette Buffy demanded. “How the hell did I get here?”
Regaining her composure, Blond Buffy responded. “You’re in the Magic Shop. Don’t worry. That statue I touched must have brought you here. I’ll just call Willow, and we’ll get this whole thing straightened out.”
Brunette Buffy showed no signs of calming down. “Magic Shop? What are you talking about? And where do trees come into this?”
Blond Buffy wasn’t quite prepared for that response. Perhaps her doppelganger was in shock from her trans-dimensional travel. “Willow’s not a tree. She’s our best friend. And we deal with magic every day. It’s no big.”
Brunette Buffy covered her face with her hands. “This is a dream. I must be dreaming. Magic’s not real. Oh, God, I knew I should never have let Brian talk me into watching that stupid sci fi movie.”
Blond Buffy grabbed her doubles wrists and pulled her hands away from her face. “What do you mean magic’s not real? We’re the Slayer. Our whole existence is magic!”
Brunette Buffy stared at her, stunned. “We’re the what? And there’s no ‘we,’ anyway. You’re not me. I would never wear something that tacky out of the house.”
Blond Buffy glanced down. She was in training clothes, not the height of fashion, but practical. She took in the other Buffy’s outfit, stylish leather boots leading up to a designer skirt and halter combination. She hadn’t been able to afford anything with that label since her parents split. Her heart started to race. “Where are you from?”
Brunette Buffy answered, “Duh, I’m from Los Angeles. I was born there, I grew up there, and now I go to UCLA. Why? Where are you from?”
Blond Buffy responded, “I’m from LA, too, but I don’t live there anymore. I live here, Sunnydale. You mean no one ever talked to you before about sacred birthrights or chosenness, or Hellmouths?”
Brunette Buffy shook her head. “All I know is, I was at a party at Brian’s frat house. I was looking at some weirdo statue on the mantle, and the next thing I know, poof! I’m looking at version of myself with last year’s hair.”
Blond Buffy grabbed at her curls defensively. “This is not last year’s hair! This cut is timeless. And anyway, I can’t believe I would ever get such a shoddy dye job. It’s obvious that you’re not a natural brunette, and not just because I’ve seen you…wait, did you say statue?” At her double’s nod, she grabbed the figurine she had been holding off the shelf and held it up for inspection. “Was it this?”
Brunette Buffy squinted at the statue. It was a deceptive piece of artwork. Held one way, it appeared to be a figure of a smiling girl, but when turned around, but when turned to the side, it looked like a dagger. Brunette Buffy’s eyes widened in recognition. “Yes, that’s it!” she exclaimed. “I wondered what that creepy thing was doing in a frat house. Those boys, their idea of artwork is more along the lines of a Guinness poster.”
Blond Buffy regarded the statue. This had to be the key. She walked over the phone behind the cashier’s desk, called Willow, and gave a brief explanation of the situation. After hanging up, she turned back to the other girl. “Willow’s on her way. We’ll have you home in no time.”
Brunette Buffy smiled. “Good. I thought I saw Brian flirting with Katy, the girl who almost beat me out for cheerleading this year. I can’t leave him alone too long.”
Blond Buffy gave a tight smile back. “You still do cheerleading?”
“Of course!” Brunette Buffy exclaimed. “Don’t you?”
Chewing on her lower lip, Blond Buffy considered how much to tell her double. Imagine it, a life where she had never been called, where she never had to leave LA, or drop out of college. It was reassuring that think that a more innocent version of herself existed somewhere out there. She wanted to leave it that way. “I’ve gotten into other things.” Brunette Buffy smiled politely, but didn’t press. Maybe she didn’t want to know.
An awkward silence fell over the duo. Finally Willow arrived, and once again made it so that there was only one Chosen One in the world.
But enough reflection. For the past few months, I've participated in a Last Author Standing competition at jossverse_las. It gave me a chance to stretch my gen muscles. The most amazing part is that I made it to the last round! All stories are 300 - 1000 words. Most are new to my journal.
Challenge 1: Habits
Story Title: Night Sounds
Show: Buffy
Character/Relationships: Buffy, Joyce, Dawn
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Joyce’s nightly routine never varied. She made her rounds starting at the front door, to the back door, checking all of the downstairs windows in between, making sure the house was closed up tight. Next, a quick check-in on Buffy, then Dawn, seeing that neither was up late reading, in Dawn’s case, nor on the phone, in Buffy’s. Finally, assured that everything was in order, she would get herself off to bed. Even after she learned about her older daughter’s special abilities, she continued this ritual, wanting to assure herself that everything was safe for her girls.
Lying in her bed, Buffy would listen to the patter of her mother’s feet travelling from room to room. Sometimes she pretended to be asleep when her mother opened her door. Sometimes, when she needed it, she grabbed an extra goodnight kiss.
The first night she lay in her own bed after the funeral, Buffy listened to the silence. Even with Dawn down the hall, the house felt cavernously empty. Unable to take the absence any longer, she rose out of bed. Down the stairs she went, to the front door, the back door, the windows. When she reached Dawn’s room, she paused. It was such a motherly act, to open a door and look in on a sleeping child. Was that who Buffy was now? Dawn’s mother? She sighed, gently closed Dawn’s door, and continued on to her own empty room.
The habit never stuck for Buffy. Besides, what did it matter? If disaster wanted to enter the Summers home, it always found a way in.
Challenge 2: Write an alternate ending to a season finale episode.
Story Title: Holding On
Character/Relationships: Buffy
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: character death
She always knew it would end like this. From the moment she had been called, an expiration date had been stamped on her life. She just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. Somehow, despite all she knew, she still had that adolescent impulse to feel invincible. Invincible, a girl destined for an early, brutal death. But she supposed that all Slayers before her had clung to that hope. They needed it to face their daily battles.
Strange, she had always wondered what death would feel like. Not like this, for sure. No memories flashing before her eyes, no white light, no fade to black. Instead, she seemed suspended in an endless moment, trapped in her body with her swirling thoughts. And it hurt. Oh, god, it hurt! At least part of her imaginings had come true, but why did it have to be that one?
Now, she could feel her life slipping away as her blood slipped out of her body. Desperately, she struggled to stay in the moment, to stay with the pain. But it was too late. Her short time was over. She had failed. Then she was falling, falling. She didn’t even feel the cold splash of the water. She was already gone.
Challenge 3: Pick a character, and write about their past, something we don't know in canon.
Story Title: The Keeper of Secrets
Character/Relationships: Dawn
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
She knows. She knows so much. She knows they underestimate her, the baby, the brat. It grants her an invisibility that allows her to gather her information. Dawn Summers: keeper of secrets.
She knows her sister has a secret. One moment, she's regular, old Buffy, giggling on the phone with her friends about boys. Boys! Dawn swears she will never waste her time on those annoying creatures. Then, one night Buffy comes home a different person, quiet, contemplative. She begins to sneak out at night. From her window, Dawn can watch her slip quietly across the backyard, over the fence. Since when did her sister become so athletic?
She knows when her parents start fighting that the end is near. She can see it in the slump of her mother’s shoulders, in the hard line of her father’s jaw. Crouched in the shadows at the top of the stairs, peering through the bars of the banister, she listens to the nasty words they fling at each other. She is surprised that two people who are supposed to love each other can be so mean. They fight mostly about Buffy. Leave it to her sister to ruin everything.
A Slayer. Dawn isn’t quite sure what that is, but she knows what it means. It means they have to leave home. It means they have to move to a tiny town hours from her friends, hours from her father. It means no more father-daughter outings. No more new dolls. Mom can’t afford them. Mom had never even spoken to her about money before they moved to this awful house, with her tiny room that is half the size of Buffy’s.
A vague scratching sound alerts Dawn to look out her window. There is Buffy, clamoring down the roof. But, wait, is that someone waiting for her? A guy? In the dark, Dawn can barely make out his features. His black coat blends into the night. Buffy doesn’t pause to say hello as she and this mystery man melt into the dark.
With a sigh, Dawn turns on her bedside lamp. She reaches under her mattress to pull out her latest diary, her repository of secrets. Here is one more to add the pile. She sees everything, keeps all of their secrets for them. If they only knew.
Challenge 4: "I haven't failed, I just found another way that doesn't work."
Story Title: If At First You Don't Succeed...
Character/Relationships: Willow, Xander
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Willow closed her eyes. Opening her mind, she reached out with her senses. The incense flowed around her, permeating her being. The candles created a soft, reddish glow behind her eyelids. Slowly, she could feel that spark of power begin to glow inside of her, lifting her to a higher plane. She spoke the words.
“Willow, fire! Fire!” She opened her eyes, and crashed back to Earth. The altar was on fire, and Xander was desperately trying to stomp out the flames, destroying the carefully constructed tower of offerings in his haste. Willow picked up the tea she had been attempting to bless and poured it over the few remaining embers, extinguishing them.
She leaned back against the wall with a sigh. This was why she had insisted that they do the spell in Xander’s basement. She had run out of plausible explanations for her burnt carpet and bedspreads. Here, no one would notice a few scorch marks.
Xander was pacing around the room, more agitated than when they began. “Willow, that was the third spell! You have to get this reversal charm before tomorrow!”
“Xander, I told you, your face will return to normal in about a week on its own.”
Pointing at his pimple covered chin, he yelled, “I can’t go into school looking like this! Can you imagine what Cordelia will say? She hardly speaks to me in public as it is.” His desperation was palpable.
Willow countered calmly, “Well, then you should have come to me before trying that concealer charm. How did you get that one tiny pimple to grow into fifty?”
Chastened, he lowered his voice to a more conciliatory tone. “Willow. That’s three failed spells. Do you really think you can do this?”
The whole venture had left her ego a little bruised. Squaring up her shoulders, she said, “I haven’t failed. I just found another way that doesn’t work.” Xander slumped, obviously losing hope. “Besides, you can always tell them you caught the plague.”
(Challenge 5 skipped)
Challenge 6: [character] needs a lawyer
Story Title: What's in a Name?
Character/Relationships: Angel, refers to B/A
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Angel shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Sweating, he tugged at his collar for the tenth time. His tie seemed to get tighter with each passing minute. It was strange, these new sensations. From his hazy memory of his first human life, he had concluded that vampires felt more than humans. Now, he knew they only felt differently. Instead of reveling in its sensuous texture, he found the wool of his suit unbearably itchy. He swore to only buy silk from now on.
He looked at his watch. Only five minutes had passed since his arrival. Time moved differently now, too. His shortened years should race by; instead, he felt every second of his newly mortal life. He forced a calming breath in and out.
“Mr. Angel?” Finally. He stood and let the young secretary lead him into the lawyer’s office. She noted how stiffly he moved into the chair and smiled kindly. “There’s no need to be nervous, Mr. Angel. Mr. Jones can help you with anything you need.”
He forced a smile back at her. “I’ve just had some…mixed…experiences with lawyers.” The woman held her smile and walked out. Working in a law office, she was used to hearing people malign her employers.
After a short but interminable wait, the lawyer himself finally appeared. A balding, middle-aged man, he wore an ill-fitting off-the-rack suit and gave Angel’s hand a firm but welcoming grasp. He was about as far from Wolfram and Hart as you could get. After settling into his seat, he asked, “So, Mr. Angel, what can I help you with today?”
Angel cleared his throat. “If you’ve had a chance to look over my papers, you can see that I’ve had some problems with my identity.”
The man nodded. “It was hard to miss that you have only one name. Are you planning to start a music career?”
Angel’s mouth formed into a half-smile. “An affectation from my youth. Unfortunately, I was orphaned at a young age and raised in foster care. If you know our current welfare system, you won’t be surprised that all of the records of my birth were lost.”
“It’s a new identity you’re seeking, then.” The lawyer appraised him thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t be trying to run from anything, would you, Mr. Angel?”
Angel gave a genuine smile. “I’m done with running.”
The lawyer leaned back in his chair. “In that case, you’re in the uncommon position of being able to pick your own name. Do you have one in mind?” Angel pulled a slip of paper out of his breast pocket and handed it across the desk. The other man read it carefully. “Angel Liam Summers. That’s quite a conglomeration.” Angel simply smiled. “Alright, I’ll have the papers drawn up.”
Challenge 7: Apologies
Story Title: All That Remains
Character/Relationships: Willow
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: one swear word
Willow had never been very good at apologies. Maybe if she were, she wouldn't have lost so much. Or so many people. Or really, one person. The only person who mattered when it came right down to it. The rest of the world could go to Hell. As long as she had Tara, nothing else mattered.
But she didn't have Tara, and she never would again. Her fault. If she hadn't driven Tara away, they would never have had to make up. Tara never would have been standing in front of the bedroom window on that bright, sunny morning. She never would have been in the path of that errant bullet. She never would have died.
Then, Willow would never have tried to destroy the world. She never would have been sent to this rainy country where it was gray and cold all of the time. So far from the people she loved, who couldn't possibly love her anymore, not after she tried to kill every last one of them.
It had made so much sense at the time. If Tara was no longer in the world, then why should the world continue to exist? What was the point? Even as Willow cringed at the memory of her supreme selfishness, she longed for that clarity.
It was a damp day in England, as most had been. She sat brooding under a large oak tree at the top of a grassy rise. Staring out over the foggy hills, she felt insignificant and alone.
Giles had said to start small. Baby steps, creeping her way back to humanity. It hardly seemed worth it. Maybe if she refused to engage with the world, the world would forget her. She could just fade away into nothingness, no pain, no loss, just nothing.
No, she had to go on, if only to try to repent for all the harm she had done. She could never undo her crimes, but even a small gesture would be worth something, wouldn't it?
Small. Turning her eyes to the ground in front of her, she reached out with her senses. She felt the roots of the grass twining with other roots, deeper and deeper into the soil, until she could see the whole of the planet woven into a continuous stream of life. She focused on that web, seeking out the most fragile of creatures.
She opened her eyes. It was an orchid, blooming out of the ground into an alien landscape. The tiny, white petals rimmed yellow stamens. It was so beautiful that it was almost painful to look at. What right had she to wipe this being from existence? Settling down on her stomach on the wet grass, she got as close to eye level with the flower as she could. At this distance, she could make out tiny hairs on the plant's shining leaves.
The words began to form. They bubbled up through the aching chasm in her chest, reaching her throat, where they almost stuck. Taking a deep breath, she forced them out.
"I'm sorry." It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Challenge 8: It Takes A Village To Raise A Child
Show: BtVS
Story Title: Cities and Villages
Character/Relationships: Nicky and Robin Wood (the 70's New York City slayer and her son)
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
“Robin, get back here!” Nicky screamed. In horror, she watched her young son disappear into the Times Square crowd. Training all of her enhanced senses on him, she weaved and dashed through the mass of people, keeping her eye on the small, bobbing head.
A nighttime walk home from her Watcher’s apartment had turned into a game of hide-and-seek with a trio of vampires. Nicky knew she couldn’t afford to face them with Robin in tow, so she'd opted for evasion, trying to blend into the throngs of people who filled the streets on the warm Saturday night.
Now, she gave no mind to stealth, desperately yelling her son’s name and pushing people out of the way to reach him. How could a four-year-old move so fast?
Suddenly, something swept him up into the air. “Whoa there, little buddy. Where are you rushing off to?” A police officer. He had snatched Robin up just as the boy was about to run into the middle of midtown traffic.
Nicky came to a halt, her heart hammering in her chest. “Thank you, officer. I don’t know how he got away from me so fast.” The officer passed the boy back to her, and she clutched him tightly in her arms.
The officer straightened up, appraising her sternly. “Lady, this isn’t a place for kids. Shouldn’t that boy be at home, in bed?”
Chagrined, she lowered Robin to the ground, keeping a firm grip on his hand. “I work nights, sir. We were just on our way home.”
“I’m going to find the demons,” the boy piped up. “I’m going to help my mom kill them.”
The officer cocked an eyebrow. Nicky gave an embarrassed smile. “An overactive imagination. I think he might have seen something on TV.”
He gave a grim nod. “Just try to keep a closer eye on him next time.” Nicky flushed. The officer knelt down so he was eye level with Robin. “You take care of those demons, but don’t let your mom out of sight, either.”
Nicky led her son home. Eventhough the vamps no longer followed, a sense of doom lay over her. This wasn’t the first time she had put Robin in harm’s way. How long could she keep this up? Even her Watcher couldn’t play babysitter all of the time. If Robin ever got hurt because of her calling, she was through. She would quit. Run away to some quiet town that had never heard of demons. Maybe California. It was sunny there, a good deterrent against vampires.
This was the best life she could give her son. Always on the run, always trying to stay one step ahead, never getting to know the neighbors' kids, never getting to play like a normal boy. She kept him couped up in apartments, too fearful of discovery to let him out free.
It takes a village to raise a child. Nicky had heard that somewhere once. But she didn’t live in a village. She lived in a city, and there was no one to help her. She was all Robin had, and no power in the universe could make her leave him.
Challenge 9: [character] meets themselves from an alternate universe
Shows: BtVS
Story Title: If We Never Met
Character/Relationships: Buffy
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Buffy didn’t know what happened. One minute, she was picking up a statue in the Magic Box to get a closer look at it. The next, she was staring into her reflection. And her reflection had brunette hair. Her hand flew up to her hair, and she was relieved to find her blond locks intact. At the same time, her reflection grabbed at her own do and seemed equally relieved to find her hair still dyed. But wait, if her hair was still blond, why, wasn’t that reflected in the mirror?
The Buffys reached towards each other. Instead of hitting glass, their fingertips lightly touched. They both jumped back with a gasp.
“Who are you?” Brunette Buffy demanded. “How the hell did I get here?”
Regaining her composure, Blond Buffy responded. “You’re in the Magic Shop. Don’t worry. That statue I touched must have brought you here. I’ll just call Willow, and we’ll get this whole thing straightened out.”
Brunette Buffy showed no signs of calming down. “Magic Shop? What are you talking about? And where do trees come into this?”
Blond Buffy wasn’t quite prepared for that response. Perhaps her doppelganger was in shock from her trans-dimensional travel. “Willow’s not a tree. She’s our best friend. And we deal with magic every day. It’s no big.”
Brunette Buffy covered her face with her hands. “This is a dream. I must be dreaming. Magic’s not real. Oh, God, I knew I should never have let Brian talk me into watching that stupid sci fi movie.”
Blond Buffy grabbed her doubles wrists and pulled her hands away from her face. “What do you mean magic’s not real? We’re the Slayer. Our whole existence is magic!”
Brunette Buffy stared at her, stunned. “We’re the what? And there’s no ‘we,’ anyway. You’re not me. I would never wear something that tacky out of the house.”
Blond Buffy glanced down. She was in training clothes, not the height of fashion, but practical. She took in the other Buffy’s outfit, stylish leather boots leading up to a designer skirt and halter combination. She hadn’t been able to afford anything with that label since her parents split. Her heart started to race. “Where are you from?”
Brunette Buffy answered, “Duh, I’m from Los Angeles. I was born there, I grew up there, and now I go to UCLA. Why? Where are you from?”
Blond Buffy responded, “I’m from LA, too, but I don’t live there anymore. I live here, Sunnydale. You mean no one ever talked to you before about sacred birthrights or chosenness, or Hellmouths?”
Brunette Buffy shook her head. “All I know is, I was at a party at Brian’s frat house. I was looking at some weirdo statue on the mantle, and the next thing I know, poof! I’m looking at version of myself with last year’s hair.”
Blond Buffy grabbed at her curls defensively. “This is not last year’s hair! This cut is timeless. And anyway, I can’t believe I would ever get such a shoddy dye job. It’s obvious that you’re not a natural brunette, and not just because I’ve seen you…wait, did you say statue?” At her double’s nod, she grabbed the figurine she had been holding off the shelf and held it up for inspection. “Was it this?”
Brunette Buffy squinted at the statue. It was a deceptive piece of artwork. Held one way, it appeared to be a figure of a smiling girl, but when turned around, but when turned to the side, it looked like a dagger. Brunette Buffy’s eyes widened in recognition. “Yes, that’s it!” she exclaimed. “I wondered what that creepy thing was doing in a frat house. Those boys, their idea of artwork is more along the lines of a Guinness poster.”
Blond Buffy regarded the statue. This had to be the key. She walked over the phone behind the cashier’s desk, called Willow, and gave a brief explanation of the situation. After hanging up, she turned back to the other girl. “Willow’s on her way. We’ll have you home in no time.”
Brunette Buffy smiled. “Good. I thought I saw Brian flirting with Katy, the girl who almost beat me out for cheerleading this year. I can’t leave him alone too long.”
Blond Buffy gave a tight smile back. “You still do cheerleading?”
“Of course!” Brunette Buffy exclaimed. “Don’t you?”
Chewing on her lower lip, Blond Buffy considered how much to tell her double. Imagine it, a life where she had never been called, where she never had to leave LA, or drop out of college. It was reassuring that think that a more innocent version of herself existed somewhere out there. She wanted to leave it that way. “I’ve gotten into other things.” Brunette Buffy smiled politely, but didn’t press. Maybe she didn’t want to know.
An awkward silence fell over the duo. Finally Willow arrived, and once again made it so that there was only one Chosen One in the world.