[fic] btvs roundup
fic: what you want and what you get
fandom: btvs
characters: olivia, buffy/tara, dawn, anya, sam, sunggyu*
recipient: red_satin_doll for the october meme (which I'm still trying to plug my way through)
word count: 1148
prompt: Olivia, Buffy a decent meal
summary: same universe as finding a balance and her bark is worse than her bite; this story is set at the beginning of S6 and deals with Buffy's depression and Giles' inability to deal and also a healthy helping of Buffy/Tara domesticity hovering in the background
[Olivia Williams never wanted children.]
Giles came back more tired than he’s ever really seemed before.
Or maybe Buffy is getting older and she’s starting to see the tired where adults used to hide them.
Something about losing Joyce has brought out the tired in all of them. (Something deeper even than losing her and getting her back. Something even more weakening than learning that Dawn isn’t really real.)
Giles came back and he brought Olivia with him this time.
Or maybe this time Olivia dragged Giles back to Sunnydale because he won’t meet her eyes and Olivia seems harder around the edges than she’s ever been.
They all moved into the Summers house eventually, except Giles. Tara was already there because she belonged there. Anya and Sam started bunking in Joyce’s room during the summer because…and Sunggyu had put his drumset and bass guitar in the garage along with his futon after a time, and… well, it was nice to come home to a full house in a way.
Even if it still felt empty everywhere she went.
Being alive is really hard.
At least you got a nice long nap.
You know how you feel groggy after too long of a nap, and you just want to go back to sleep? And nothing really seems normal, like the day is gone and it keeps slipping through your fingers?
Like when your foot only starts to fall asleep, but is just tingling?
That’s what being alive is like.
Can I take a nap?
Yes. But promise to wake up.
If you promise to stay alive this time.
You’ll never be rid of me.
Damn, you saw my Christmas list, didn’t you?
Three weeks and four days and two hours after waking up in a coffin and digging her way out of a world of dirt, Buffy sits at her kitchen island and stares out the window. Because it’s been three weeks and four days and two hours and she knows that. Because she’s not sure what she’s supposed to do now.
Three days and twenty-one hours after setting foot on American soil again, Olivia opens the back door to the Summers home and finds Buffy sitting at the kitchen island, staring out the window.
She thinks about saying hello, but it sounds hollow before she even begins it. She wants to ask where everyone is - the bustling house of teenagers suddenly empty - but is struck by how silly that would sound. It’s two o’clock in the afternoon and they all have school and jobs and lives that take place outside of the walls that protect them when they are safe asleep in bed after dark.
She wants to say a lot, but Olivia is a woman of few words and Buffy is a girl for whom words don’t seem to matter very much.
She’s halfway through preparing her mother’s special meatloaf and mashed potatoes and the no-bake cookies are nearly hard enough to eat when Buffy’s eyes finally focus on her.
Hi.
Hi.
You’re cooking in my house.
It doesn’t look like anyone does that often.
Probably not. I’ve been out of town, so I wouldn’t know.
You can’t know everything.
I should know enough, I guess.
Milk?
The girls manage to tease Sunggyu into singing at the table until he blushes a deep, scarlet red and runs into the kitchen to do the dishes. They all eat with a vigor that alarms rather than comforts Olivia. Here, she had been so concerned for the girl with shadows under her bright eyes and dirt clinging to her fingernails, but now she can see that they’re all worn out. These children who save the world without being asked.
Where have you been all day?
Checking in on the kids.
What kids?
Your kids, Rupert. Buffy, Dawn, Tara, Anya, Sam, that Sunggyu-boy.
They aren’t mine, Olivia. And they aren’t children anymore.
No. You never wanted children. Funny how you ended up with so many of them.
They aren’t children.
They’ll always be children, Rupert.
They can be yours, then. If you want them so badly.
Please stop drinking and look at me.
You could leave.
Not now I can’t.
Rupert laughed bitterly and disappeared into the dark hallway.
I can’t.
You don’t have to cook for us all the time.
I know.
I can cook.
No, you can’t.
No, I can’t. But Tara can. And Dawn tries really hard. And-
And there’s always pizza?
He hasn’t really been the same since Miss Calendar, you know?
Or Joyce. Or you.
Or me.
His life is littered with gravestones.
Everyone’s life is littered with gravestones. Some people just like to forget.
How do you feel about asparagus?
Mostly positive.
Six weeks and five days and twelve hours after dragging herself out of her own grave, Buffy Summers stood in an airport terminal and said goodbye to her Watcher. He said lots of things that made a lot of adult sense and she nodded after each instruction.
She was an adult, she could do this.
She was an adult, she was responsible.
She waved goodbye with a smile and didn’t show him her tears.
Olivia waited in his convertible outside, top down and something poppy and British playing too loudly. What did he say?
Lots of stuff.
Let’s get you something to eat.
I’m not hungry.
Yeah, well. I’m the adult. So I say we’re eating.
Can it be something really bad for us? Like a cheeseburger with extra sauce and cheese fries?
Add in a chocolate shake and your sister and I’m in.
We’ll have to wait for her to get out of school.
Or pull her out early.
Cheeseburgers aren’t exactly a family emergency.
They are today.
Olivia Williams never wanted children.
She definitely never wanted a teenage daughter with a penchant for death.
Sometimes the best things we get in life are the things we don’t ask for.
Who told you that?
Someone pretty wise I guess.
Well I’m sure I didn’t ask Dawn to stretch out my favorite sweater.
Are you going out patrolling?
Only for a little while. Do you want to come?
I’d only be in the way.
Tara, you are never, ever in the way.
Never?
Okay. Yesterday when I was trying to load the dishwasher and you were making Dawn’s lunch, you were in my way.
I’m sorry.
And three days ago, when I tried to wake up early for once, your leg had me pinned to the bed and you were definitely standing between me and sunshine.
I’m the worst.
Terrible.
Awful.
Olivia Williams never wanted children.
She definitely didn’t want a whole household of traumatized teenagers incapable of even asking for help because they no longer knew how.
Olivia Williams had a lot of things in her life that she never wanted.
And she was beginning to suspect that she had been wanting all the wrong things.
fic: a light in the dark (ao3)
fandom: btvs
characters: willow/cordy/faith
word count: ~800
There used to be a once upon a time place where monsters beckoned around every corner and fairy tales came true in ways you never, ever wanted them to.
In that place, Willow presumed that grocery shopping was just the sort of thing that was done by House Elves or something. It was probably her mother - or her father - early on. Though once there was Buffy, everything Willow seemed to eat came from Joyce. Even lunches, packed up leftovers from the night before. In college, it seemed as though food sprang from everywhere around her - the fridge filled with Joyce’s cooking, the cafeteria filled with students, Oz’s ramshackle house full of snacks, and then Tara’s warm, cozy room with everything she could ever need inside. In the Summers home, in-between Buffy, the Bot did everything Anya demanded it was programmed to do. And after that… she wasn’t really sure, anymore.
fic: no surprises here
fandom: btvs/ats
characters: dawn/cordelia
word count: 597
There’s a banner in the lobby of the Hyperion in childish script Happy Birthday Dawnie! when she arrives. Which basically means that her big surprise isn’t really going to be a big surprise after all. Of course, there’s no smiling face to accompany the ridiculous banner, but that was part of the reason why she didn’t tell anyone she was coming. She hates the look on Cordy’s face when she realizes they were all off hunting when she walked in the door.
She can hear the phone ringing in Wesley’s office and rolls her eyes, drops her oversized, Army-issue duffle bag on ground, and goes to answer it. The elderly woman is quite hysterical about her geraniums and she’s still trying to calm her down when Illyria sidles into the room and smiles down at the worn combat boots perched on the desk.
fic: your gods and your heroes
fandom: btvs
characters: cordy/dawn
word count: 2000
summary: Cordelia is rescued from her boring life in the clouds by the last person she expected. This is a story of Dawn breaking down the status quo and Cordelia learning how to be a new kind of hero.
a/n: I'm super proud of this fic. Like ridiculously proud.
She comes striding in with an ax in her hand and her hair short around her ears and god knows how many piercings and possibly a tattoo or two and the first thing Cordelia thinks to say to her is, Did you steal that ax? (Even though she knows the answer is yes.)
(She’s a very bored immortal being on a cloud. She sees stuff.)
It’s been a long fucking day in a long fucking month in one of the longest years of her life and the first thing that she says after tearing down the gates to the gods the first thing she says, Twenty years of sitting on a cloud with a harp isn’t long enough for you? I can always take my rescue party elsewhere.
(She’s a very busy immortal being with an ax. She doesn’t have time for niceties.)
fandom: btvs
characters: olivia, buffy/tara, dawn, anya, sam, sunggyu*
recipient: red_satin_doll for the october meme (which I'm still trying to plug my way through)
word count: 1148
prompt: Olivia, Buffy a decent meal
summary: same universe as finding a balance and her bark is worse than her bite; this story is set at the beginning of S6 and deals with Buffy's depression and Giles' inability to deal and also a healthy helping of Buffy/Tara domesticity hovering in the background
[Olivia Williams never wanted children.]
Giles came back more tired than he’s ever really seemed before.
Or maybe Buffy is getting older and she’s starting to see the tired where adults used to hide them.
Something about losing Joyce has brought out the tired in all of them. (Something deeper even than losing her and getting her back. Something even more weakening than learning that Dawn isn’t really real.)
Giles came back and he brought Olivia with him this time.
Or maybe this time Olivia dragged Giles back to Sunnydale because he won’t meet her eyes and Olivia seems harder around the edges than she’s ever been.
They all moved into the Summers house eventually, except Giles. Tara was already there because she belonged there. Anya and Sam started bunking in Joyce’s room during the summer because…and Sunggyu had put his drumset and bass guitar in the garage along with his futon after a time, and… well, it was nice to come home to a full house in a way.
Even if it still felt empty everywhere she went.
Being alive is really hard.
At least you got a nice long nap.
You know how you feel groggy after too long of a nap, and you just want to go back to sleep? And nothing really seems normal, like the day is gone and it keeps slipping through your fingers?
Like when your foot only starts to fall asleep, but is just tingling?
That’s what being alive is like.
Can I take a nap?
Yes. But promise to wake up.
If you promise to stay alive this time.
You’ll never be rid of me.
Damn, you saw my Christmas list, didn’t you?
Three weeks and four days and two hours after waking up in a coffin and digging her way out of a world of dirt, Buffy sits at her kitchen island and stares out the window. Because it’s been three weeks and four days and two hours and she knows that. Because she’s not sure what she’s supposed to do now.
Three days and twenty-one hours after setting foot on American soil again, Olivia opens the back door to the Summers home and finds Buffy sitting at the kitchen island, staring out the window.
She thinks about saying hello, but it sounds hollow before she even begins it. She wants to ask where everyone is - the bustling house of teenagers suddenly empty - but is struck by how silly that would sound. It’s two o’clock in the afternoon and they all have school and jobs and lives that take place outside of the walls that protect them when they are safe asleep in bed after dark.
She wants to say a lot, but Olivia is a woman of few words and Buffy is a girl for whom words don’t seem to matter very much.
She’s halfway through preparing her mother’s special meatloaf and mashed potatoes and the no-bake cookies are nearly hard enough to eat when Buffy’s eyes finally focus on her.
Hi.
Hi.
You’re cooking in my house.
It doesn’t look like anyone does that often.
Probably not. I’ve been out of town, so I wouldn’t know.
You can’t know everything.
I should know enough, I guess.
Milk?
The girls manage to tease Sunggyu into singing at the table until he blushes a deep, scarlet red and runs into the kitchen to do the dishes. They all eat with a vigor that alarms rather than comforts Olivia. Here, she had been so concerned for the girl with shadows under her bright eyes and dirt clinging to her fingernails, but now she can see that they’re all worn out. These children who save the world without being asked.
Where have you been all day?
Checking in on the kids.
What kids?
Your kids, Rupert. Buffy, Dawn, Tara, Anya, Sam, that Sunggyu-boy.
They aren’t mine, Olivia. And they aren’t children anymore.
No. You never wanted children. Funny how you ended up with so many of them.
They aren’t children.
They’ll always be children, Rupert.
They can be yours, then. If you want them so badly.
Please stop drinking and look at me.
You could leave.
Not now I can’t.
Rupert laughed bitterly and disappeared into the dark hallway.
I can’t.
You don’t have to cook for us all the time.
I know.
I can cook.
No, you can’t.
No, I can’t. But Tara can. And Dawn tries really hard. And-
And there’s always pizza?
He hasn’t really been the same since Miss Calendar, you know?
Or Joyce. Or you.
Or me.
His life is littered with gravestones.
Everyone’s life is littered with gravestones. Some people just like to forget.
How do you feel about asparagus?
Mostly positive.
Six weeks and five days and twelve hours after dragging herself out of her own grave, Buffy Summers stood in an airport terminal and said goodbye to her Watcher. He said lots of things that made a lot of adult sense and she nodded after each instruction.
She was an adult, she could do this.
She was an adult, she was responsible.
She waved goodbye with a smile and didn’t show him her tears.
Olivia waited in his convertible outside, top down and something poppy and British playing too loudly. What did he say?
Lots of stuff.
Let’s get you something to eat.
I’m not hungry.
Yeah, well. I’m the adult. So I say we’re eating.
Can it be something really bad for us? Like a cheeseburger with extra sauce and cheese fries?
Add in a chocolate shake and your sister and I’m in.
We’ll have to wait for her to get out of school.
Or pull her out early.
Cheeseburgers aren’t exactly a family emergency.
They are today.
Olivia Williams never wanted children.
She definitely never wanted a teenage daughter with a penchant for death.
Sometimes the best things we get in life are the things we don’t ask for.
Who told you that?
Someone pretty wise I guess.
Well I’m sure I didn’t ask Dawn to stretch out my favorite sweater.
Are you going out patrolling?
Only for a little while. Do you want to come?
I’d only be in the way.
Tara, you are never, ever in the way.
Never?
Okay. Yesterday when I was trying to load the dishwasher and you were making Dawn’s lunch, you were in my way.
I’m sorry.
And three days ago, when I tried to wake up early for once, your leg had me pinned to the bed and you were definitely standing between me and sunshine.
I’m the worst.
Terrible.
Awful.
Olivia Williams never wanted children.
She definitely didn’t want a whole household of traumatized teenagers incapable of even asking for help because they no longer knew how.
Olivia Williams had a lot of things in her life that she never wanted.
And she was beginning to suspect that she had been wanting all the wrong things.
fic: a light in the dark (ao3)
fandom: btvs
characters: willow/cordy/faith
word count: ~800
There used to be a once upon a time place where monsters beckoned around every corner and fairy tales came true in ways you never, ever wanted them to.
In that place, Willow presumed that grocery shopping was just the sort of thing that was done by House Elves or something. It was probably her mother - or her father - early on. Though once there was Buffy, everything Willow seemed to eat came from Joyce. Even lunches, packed up leftovers from the night before. In college, it seemed as though food sprang from everywhere around her - the fridge filled with Joyce’s cooking, the cafeteria filled with students, Oz’s ramshackle house full of snacks, and then Tara’s warm, cozy room with everything she could ever need inside. In the Summers home, in-between Buffy, the Bot did everything Anya demanded it was programmed to do. And after that… she wasn’t really sure, anymore.
fic: no surprises here
fandom: btvs/ats
characters: dawn/cordelia
word count: 597
There’s a banner in the lobby of the Hyperion in childish script Happy Birthday Dawnie! when she arrives. Which basically means that her big surprise isn’t really going to be a big surprise after all. Of course, there’s no smiling face to accompany the ridiculous banner, but that was part of the reason why she didn’t tell anyone she was coming. She hates the look on Cordy’s face when she realizes they were all off hunting when she walked in the door.
She can hear the phone ringing in Wesley’s office and rolls her eyes, drops her oversized, Army-issue duffle bag on ground, and goes to answer it. The elderly woman is quite hysterical about her geraniums and she’s still trying to calm her down when Illyria sidles into the room and smiles down at the worn combat boots perched on the desk.
fic: your gods and your heroes
fandom: btvs
characters: cordy/dawn
word count: 2000
summary: Cordelia is rescued from her boring life in the clouds by the last person she expected. This is a story of Dawn breaking down the status quo and Cordelia learning how to be a new kind of hero.
a/n: I'm super proud of this fic. Like ridiculously proud.
She comes striding in with an ax in her hand and her hair short around her ears and god knows how many piercings and possibly a tattoo or two and the first thing Cordelia thinks to say to her is, Did you steal that ax? (Even though she knows the answer is yes.)
(She’s a very bored immortal being on a cloud. She sees stuff.)
It’s been a long fucking day in a long fucking month in one of the longest years of her life and the first thing that she says after tearing down the gates to the gods the first thing she says, Twenty years of sitting on a cloud with a harp isn’t long enough for you? I can always take my rescue party elsewhere.
(She’s a very busy immortal being with an ax. She doesn’t have time for niceties.)