Fic: A Night of Fright
Title: A Night of Fright
Creator: drizzlydaze
Rating: PG
Setting: Post-series
Word count: 264
Prompt: A Night of No Fright is No Delight (angst)
“A night of no fright is no delight,” Buffy said, lopping off the head of a demon.
“No arguments here. But you got that from Scooby-Doo. Not so original, luv.”
“You’d know that.”
“Better than daytime television,” he said shamelessly.
“You like daytime television.”
“And I like Scooby-Doo.”
“Oh, to have that on record…”
A demon said to Spike, “You like Scooby-Doo?”
“Well,” he said, ducking a blow and dealing one of his own, “it’s just so true to life. You’ve got a gang of meddling kids, things that go bump in the night,” here he axed the demon but he kept going, “surprisingly little blood, unfortunately-”
Which was when a whole lot of blood suddenly came onto the scene. Slayer blood. He finished off the demons around him and ran, ran, ran to Buffy. She’d finished hers off too, but not before she got a sword blow through her. “My arm-Spike, my arm, it’s…!” She clutched her shoulder-her stump-even as blood seeped into her fingers like lava cracks. She stared at her right arm, where it lay three feet from her.
The smell of blood was unbearable. It was all around, it seemed dry somehow and stale, it was cloying and terrible. “We’ll fix it,” he found himself saying. “We’ll fix it-here, I’ll-” And he picked up her arm and then he went to her to help her up one-handed. “Giles will find something. Will can do anything these days. Stay awake.” Her arm was surprisingly light. It was twitching in his hand. “Come on. Come on.”
Creator: drizzlydaze
Rating: PG
Setting: Post-series
Word count: 264
Prompt: A Night of No Fright is No Delight (angst)
“A night of no fright is no delight,” Buffy said, lopping off the head of a demon.
“No arguments here. But you got that from Scooby-Doo. Not so original, luv.”
“You’d know that.”
“Better than daytime television,” he said shamelessly.
“You like daytime television.”
“And I like Scooby-Doo.”
“Oh, to have that on record…”
A demon said to Spike, “You like Scooby-Doo?”
“Well,” he said, ducking a blow and dealing one of his own, “it’s just so true to life. You’ve got a gang of meddling kids, things that go bump in the night,” here he axed the demon but he kept going, “surprisingly little blood, unfortunately-”
Which was when a whole lot of blood suddenly came onto the scene. Slayer blood. He finished off the demons around him and ran, ran, ran to Buffy. She’d finished hers off too, but not before she got a sword blow through her. “My arm-Spike, my arm, it’s…!” She clutched her shoulder-her stump-even as blood seeped into her fingers like lava cracks. She stared at her right arm, where it lay three feet from her.
The smell of blood was unbearable. It was all around, it seemed dry somehow and stale, it was cloying and terrible. “We’ll fix it,” he found himself saying. “We’ll fix it-here, I’ll-” And he picked up her arm and then he went to her to help her up one-handed. “Giles will find something. Will can do anything these days. Stay awake.” Her arm was surprisingly light. It was twitching in his hand. “Come on. Come on.”