Iconage and Commentary...
Jun. 6th, 2005 08:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
agilebritBack from Sacramento! Whew, that's a long drive. No caterpillars on the way back. *sobs*
Did this for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
treepretty:
And this one for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wes_stillness:
Title: Gift
Author: babies stole my dingo (agilebrit)
Fandom: Angel
Rating: PG-13
Length: Short story
Disclaimer: Joss is the genius behind these characters; I am but a lowly follower. I make no money from any of this, so please don’t sue me.
Notes: Christmas Day, Spike gives Illyria a gift. She decides she needs to reciprocate--and brings him a surprise. Post-NFA, Spike and Illyria the only survivors, and on the run from the Senior Partners. Kinda angsty.
Chapter One: Illyria’s Gift
“Happy Christmas, Bluebird,” Spike said diffidently, handing Illyria a blooming blue tulip, in a ceramic pot wrapped around with a bright red bow.
So, this entailed research. I know tulips don't bloom until Spring, but I'd also heard (somewhere) about something called "forcing" a bulb, which makes it bloom early. I also needed to make sure that blue tulips are available. And does it mean that there's something wrong with my brain when, the other day on our walk, we saw some tulips that were almost black, and my first thought about them was "Dru would like those"?
“What is this ‘Christmas’?” she asked as she took the pot and examined the flower.
“It’s a human tradition. Every year on December twenty-fifth, people celebrate this holiday by exchanging gifts. We don’t have a tree to put it under--” Spike glanced around at the shabby motel room they were staying in that day. “--and a plant’s impossible to wrap, but I thought you might like something that matches your eyes.”
Aww. Matches your eyes, too, Spike.
They hadn’t had much to celebrate in the last seven months or so. After the battle in the alley, which had left Angel a puff of dust and Gunn dead from blood loss, they had traveled around the country, staying one step ahead of Wolfram and Hart. The Senior Partners considered them a loose end, and had made rather serious efforts to wipe them out. The combination of Spike’s quick thinking and Illyria’s powerful abilities, some of which were slowly returning, kept them in the land of the living--so to speak.
Sets up the timeline and past events. A one-paragraph info-dump that I think is forgivable.
“Exchanging. This means I should get you a gift as well.”
Quick thinking, there.
“Naw, pet, you don’t have to do that. Just havin’ you here, gift enough for me. Not often I get to spend the hols with someone I actually care about anymore.” He jerked his chin at the flower. “Didn’t know what else to get you. What do you give the God-King who has everything?”
Especially when they're on the run from the Senior Partners. Something small and portable might have been a little more practical. But Spike's not always as practical as he should be.
Illyria tilted her head back and forth, as if listening. “This plant should not be in bloom yet. It is confused, almost frightened.” She stroked a leaf between her fingers and crooned to it.
As mentioned above, her abilities are coming back...among them the ability to hear "the Song of the Green."
Spike frowned a little. “They do something to them so they’ll bloom early. Not sure what.”
Just because I researched it doesn't mean Spike knew what the deal was. Plus, I didn't want to bore my readers with the details. It's enough for me that I know it's possible.
“You weren’t to know,” she answered.
Grateful that she wasn’t pummeling him for the error, he noticed that she seemed distracted. “Everything all right, luv?”
“Yes.” Her enigmatic stare unsettled him. “I will return shortly with your gift.”
She's adapting to the conventions of humanity.
“You don’t have to--” But she waved her hand, opened a portal, and disappeared through it, closing it behind her. “Bloody hell.”
Okay, she's sort of adapting to the conventions of humanity.
###
“Merry Christmas, Dawnie,” Buffy said, lifting a glass of wine in a toast to her sister and Andrew.
Dawn smiled and raised her own glass. Now that they were in Rome, and she was eighteen, a glass of wine was allowed. “Merry Christm--”
The air shimmered, and a red-leather clad, blue-haired woman stepped through. She grasped Buffy’s arm in an iron grip, said, “You shall be my gift,” and pulled her through the portal. It closed behind them with a little pop, leaving Dawn and Andrew staring in shock.
Maybe she's not adapting at all, come to think of it...
###
Spike leaped to his feet as Illyria appeared back in their motel room with the Slayer in tow. “Oh, sodding...Bluebird, what on earth have you done?”
“Spike?” Buffy said incredulously. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
All this time has gone by, and he hasn't contacted her. Quite sad, when you think about it.
“You speak of the Slayer in your sleep.” Illyria wouldn’t look at him. “Your memories of Fred, like Wesley’s, keep you from worshiping me as you should. Nevertheless, I would do this for you. You have been a...companion...to me. I do not regard that lightly.” She picked up the tulip. “I will go outside and commune with your gift to me.”
Thus leaving Spike and Buffy alone for the conversation he never wanted to have.
As the door closed softly behind Illyria, Buffy sat down on the room’s one chair. “I don’t know whether to hit you or hug you. How long have you been back?”
I honestly don't know if she'd punch him or kiss him the first time she realized he was back. In another fic I have her attempt to punch him, but since he's a ghost, it gets played for laughs. This fic? A bit more serious than that one, not so much with the fluff.
“They said it was nineteen days after the battle with the First. Came back as a ghost. Couldn’t pick up the phone. After I got my body back, didn’t seem proper, somehow, to bother you.”
Seems to me that Spike has this same conversation with Buffy in another one of my fics, so this may be a recurring theme with me. He doesn't want to go through the pain again, plus he wants what's best for her. Which is, especially in this case, being as far away from him as possible.
“Bother me? Bother me?” She jumped up and paced around the cramped room.
“Honestly, pet, if I’d known what she was going to do, I’d have stopped her doing it. I hear you’re all cozy in Rome now, with Dawn, and a new boyfriend. Lord knows you don’t need my bloody problems coming crashing down about your head.”
Buffy ran her fingers through her bangs. “I can’t believe...Where? How?”
You're sputtering, Buffy...To be fair, I think I'd be doing a fair amount of sputtering myself.
“The amulet. Angel’s office at Wolfram and Hart--”
“Angel knew about this and didn’t want to ‘bother me’ either? I swear, I’m going to kill--” She stopped abruptly at the look on his face. “What? Oh, god, no. No, Spike.”
Possibly not the best word choice she could have used there, considering the fact that she hasn't heard from him for seven months.
“I’m sorry, luv. Truly, I am. He went out like the Champion he was, if that’s any consolation to you.”
Her legs refused to hold her up, and she collapsed back onto the chair. “What about...”
Now she thinks to ask about the others.
“Blue and I were the only ones that got out.” This was said with a bluntness that told her she’d be better off not asking any more questions about it. “Look, Buffy. I gave her a Christmas present, and she thought she needed to return the favor. I might offend her by sending you back, but you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”
Distraction. Distraction was of the good. “What is she?”
Not that Buffy's "all better." But she's had a big shock, several, in fact. So she's being avoidy.
“Illyria. God-King of the Universe. Brought a bit low right now.” He sighed. “Used to be Fredlet. Flashes of her, once in awhile. Not often.”
“So, she’s like Glory?”
Which thought would immediately put Buffy in Slaying mode. So, Spike quickly disabuses her of that particular notion.
Spike barked out a laugh. “Oh, no, pet. She’s nothing like Glory, believe me.”
Something he’d said earlier clicked. “What do you mean, if I don’t want to stay? Why would I not want to stay?”
“I can’t imagine,” he said sarcastically, gesturing around the room. “Why wouldn’t you want to stay with a couple of demons on the run from Wolfram and Hart, and leave the halfway normal life you’ve built with the Nibblet and the Immortal behind? How utterly silly of me.” He reached across the space between them and took her hand. “Now that you’ve got all the other Slayers backing you up, you have a chance to relax. I wouldn’t want to take that away from you, Buffy. Go home to your little sis. You love her, and she needs you.”
I had fun writing that little bit of sarcasm. And then he goes all sweet on her again. Note that his comment about the Immortal goes unremarked.
“But I love you too, Spike.” She frowned a little. “Are you and Illyria...?”
A natural conclusion to jump to, since, hey, Spike hasn't called her. Has he, perhaps, found someone else?
His turn to jump up and pace and run his fingers through his hair. “Oh, God, no. I am not having this conversation,” he muttered.
Frankly, after all they've been through, I'd imagine that sex with Illyria would be the last thing Spike would want. It's entirely possible they had "Hey, we're alive!" sex after "Cold Comfort," but I'm really not sure either of them would want to go there. It's a form of intimacy that Illyria might have wanted to explore before the alley, but I don't think she'd want to, afterwards.
“Spike! Then what? Because it looks like you’d rather be with her than me, from where I’m sitting.”
“It’s not like that, not really. She won’t admit it, but she needs me. And at least...at least I always know where I stand with her. And when Smurfette’s pounding the stuffing out of me, it’s not personal.” He didn’t look at Buffy when he said this.
That line was planned from the very start.
He was spared further discussion as the door crashed open and Illyria burst into the room, slamming the door behind her and carefully placing the tulip on the dresser. “The Wolf, Ram, and Hart have found us again,” she said as she turned the lock.
“Bloody hell.” Spike glanced over at Buffy as he grabbed swords and crossbows out of their weapons bag. “This isn’t your fight, luv.”
She tested the heft and edge of a battleaxe, and snorted. “Yeah, right.”
She's never been one to shy away from a fight.
“What are they this time, Bluebird?”
“Humanoid, muscular, and green. Two of them. They have a large red jewel in the center of their foreheads.”
Buffy’s head whipped around. “They what?
Illyria didn’t have time to answer. The door splintered open and a pair of Mohra demons armed with curved swords leaped into the room. Without hesitating, they attacked, dodging the crossbow bolts Spike fired at them. Buffy and Spike took on one, while Illyria battled the other. “Just like old times, eh, pet?” Spike grinned and parried a blow.
“You enjoy this--” Buffy grunted as her strike at the jewel was blocked. “--entirely too much. Try to smash the that ruby thing in the middle of its forehead.”
I got my chops busted by a reviewer over this. Thing is, I checked the transcript of IWRY, and Angel kills the Mohra demon in front of Buffy at the end of the ep, with the clock on his desk (very symbolic). So, yes, she would know how to kill it, and she would recognize one when she saw it. *sticks out tongue childishly* So there.
Spike sliced the Mohra across the arm, sending glowing green ichor flying, and dodged the counterstroke. “That kills them?”
“Yeah.” A swing and a clang as her axe met the demon’s sword.
Writing dialogue in the middle of a fight scene is hard. You have to remember to put the action in with the talking and not make it seem all awkward. Sentence fragments help with that, I think.
Illyria tilted her head as she took in that snippet of information. A cut across her brow bled freely, but her foe was wounded as well, in more than one place.
Acting in concert, Buffy and Spike attacked their opponent. Spike distracted it by jabbing and cutting at it repeatedly, as demon goo sprayed around the room, and Buffy finally got the blow she wanted in and smashed the jewel. The demon disappeared in a flash of light.
Foe, adversary, opponent...my thesaurus got a workout during this part.
They turned to Illyria. The slice on her forehead had apparently been a lucky hit, because she was almost casually taking her adversary apart. With a contemptuous gesture, she disarmed it, reversed her sword so the hilt was forward, and shattered its gem. It howled in anguish, but before it vanished, it swiped its arm across her forehead, mingling their blood.
Again, had to go back to IWRY to see just how all this happened with Mohras. Yes, I do my damb research. This fic was actually a combination of plot bunnies, with the "gift" part coming first, and then the Muse wickedly whispering in my ear "what would happen if Illyria got hit with Mohra blood?"
As Buffy and Spike looked on in fascinated horror, the blood swirled around and Illyria’s cut healed before their eyes. A glow started at the top of her head and moved down her body, and she collapsed.
More research of the episode. I probably read over it five or six times.
Spike was on his knees beside her in an instant, but recoiled and scrabbled backwards when she looked up at him with wide brown eyes. “Spike? What...? What’s the matter?”
"Wide brown eyes." My not-so-subtle way of pointing out that Illryia...isn't herself.
Spike’s voice was a bare croak. “Freddikins?”
honorh and others pointed out that Spike probably wouldn't have called her that...and they were (probably) right. I think he would if he was drunk, or maybe if he was trying to charm her. Probably not under these circumstances. It's been changed to "Freddi?" in later incarnations of this story.
TBC...
Did this for
treepretty: And this one for
wes_stillness:Title: Gift
Author: babies stole my dingo (agilebrit)
Fandom: Angel
Rating: PG-13
Length: Short story
Disclaimer: Joss is the genius behind these characters; I am but a lowly follower. I make no money from any of this, so please don’t sue me.
Notes: Christmas Day, Spike gives Illyria a gift. She decides she needs to reciprocate--and brings him a surprise. Post-NFA, Spike and Illyria the only survivors, and on the run from the Senior Partners. Kinda angsty.
Chapter One: Illyria’s Gift
“Happy Christmas, Bluebird,” Spike said diffidently, handing Illyria a blooming blue tulip, in a ceramic pot wrapped around with a bright red bow.
So, this entailed research. I know tulips don't bloom until Spring, but I'd also heard (somewhere) about something called "forcing" a bulb, which makes it bloom early. I also needed to make sure that blue tulips are available. And does it mean that there's something wrong with my brain when, the other day on our walk, we saw some tulips that were almost black, and my first thought about them was "Dru would like those"?
“What is this ‘Christmas’?” she asked as she took the pot and examined the flower.
“It’s a human tradition. Every year on December twenty-fifth, people celebrate this holiday by exchanging gifts. We don’t have a tree to put it under--” Spike glanced around at the shabby motel room they were staying in that day. “--and a plant’s impossible to wrap, but I thought you might like something that matches your eyes.”
Aww. Matches your eyes, too, Spike.
They hadn’t had much to celebrate in the last seven months or so. After the battle in the alley, which had left Angel a puff of dust and Gunn dead from blood loss, they had traveled around the country, staying one step ahead of Wolfram and Hart. The Senior Partners considered them a loose end, and had made rather serious efforts to wipe them out. The combination of Spike’s quick thinking and Illyria’s powerful abilities, some of which were slowly returning, kept them in the land of the living--so to speak.
Sets up the timeline and past events. A one-paragraph info-dump that I think is forgivable.
“Exchanging. This means I should get you a gift as well.”
Quick thinking, there.
“Naw, pet, you don’t have to do that. Just havin’ you here, gift enough for me. Not often I get to spend the hols with someone I actually care about anymore.” He jerked his chin at the flower. “Didn’t know what else to get you. What do you give the God-King who has everything?”
Especially when they're on the run from the Senior Partners. Something small and portable might have been a little more practical. But Spike's not always as practical as he should be.
Illyria tilted her head back and forth, as if listening. “This plant should not be in bloom yet. It is confused, almost frightened.” She stroked a leaf between her fingers and crooned to it.
As mentioned above, her abilities are coming back...among them the ability to hear "the Song of the Green."
Spike frowned a little. “They do something to them so they’ll bloom early. Not sure what.”
Just because I researched it doesn't mean Spike knew what the deal was. Plus, I didn't want to bore my readers with the details. It's enough for me that I know it's possible.
“You weren’t to know,” she answered.
Grateful that she wasn’t pummeling him for the error, he noticed that she seemed distracted. “Everything all right, luv?”
“Yes.” Her enigmatic stare unsettled him. “I will return shortly with your gift.”
She's adapting to the conventions of humanity.
“You don’t have to--” But she waved her hand, opened a portal, and disappeared through it, closing it behind her. “Bloody hell.”
Okay, she's sort of adapting to the conventions of humanity.
“Merry Christmas, Dawnie,” Buffy said, lifting a glass of wine in a toast to her sister and Andrew.
Dawn smiled and raised her own glass. Now that they were in Rome, and she was eighteen, a glass of wine was allowed. “Merry Christm--”
The air shimmered, and a red-leather clad, blue-haired woman stepped through. She grasped Buffy’s arm in an iron grip, said, “You shall be my gift,” and pulled her through the portal. It closed behind them with a little pop, leaving Dawn and Andrew staring in shock.
Maybe she's not adapting at all, come to think of it...
Spike leaped to his feet as Illyria appeared back in their motel room with the Slayer in tow. “Oh, sodding...Bluebird, what on earth have you done?”
“Spike?” Buffy said incredulously. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
All this time has gone by, and he hasn't contacted her. Quite sad, when you think about it.
“You speak of the Slayer in your sleep.” Illyria wouldn’t look at him. “Your memories of Fred, like Wesley’s, keep you from worshiping me as you should. Nevertheless, I would do this for you. You have been a...companion...to me. I do not regard that lightly.” She picked up the tulip. “I will go outside and commune with your gift to me.”
Thus leaving Spike and Buffy alone for the conversation he never wanted to have.
As the door closed softly behind Illyria, Buffy sat down on the room’s one chair. “I don’t know whether to hit you or hug you. How long have you been back?”
I honestly don't know if she'd punch him or kiss him the first time she realized he was back. In another fic I have her attempt to punch him, but since he's a ghost, it gets played for laughs. This fic? A bit more serious than that one, not so much with the fluff.
“They said it was nineteen days after the battle with the First. Came back as a ghost. Couldn’t pick up the phone. After I got my body back, didn’t seem proper, somehow, to bother you.”
Seems to me that Spike has this same conversation with Buffy in another one of my fics, so this may be a recurring theme with me. He doesn't want to go through the pain again, plus he wants what's best for her. Which is, especially in this case, being as far away from him as possible.
“Bother me? Bother me?” She jumped up and paced around the cramped room.
“Honestly, pet, if I’d known what she was going to do, I’d have stopped her doing it. I hear you’re all cozy in Rome now, with Dawn, and a new boyfriend. Lord knows you don’t need my bloody problems coming crashing down about your head.”
Buffy ran her fingers through her bangs. “I can’t believe...Where? How?”
You're sputtering, Buffy...To be fair, I think I'd be doing a fair amount of sputtering myself.
“The amulet. Angel’s office at Wolfram and Hart--”
“Angel knew about this and didn’t want to ‘bother me’ either? I swear, I’m going to kill--” She stopped abruptly at the look on his face. “What? Oh, god, no. No, Spike.”
Possibly not the best word choice she could have used there, considering the fact that she hasn't heard from him for seven months.
“I’m sorry, luv. Truly, I am. He went out like the Champion he was, if that’s any consolation to you.”
Her legs refused to hold her up, and she collapsed back onto the chair. “What about...”
Now she thinks to ask about the others.
“Blue and I were the only ones that got out.” This was said with a bluntness that told her she’d be better off not asking any more questions about it. “Look, Buffy. I gave her a Christmas present, and she thought she needed to return the favor. I might offend her by sending you back, but you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”
Distraction. Distraction was of the good. “What is she?”
Not that Buffy's "all better." But she's had a big shock, several, in fact. So she's being avoidy.
“Illyria. God-King of the Universe. Brought a bit low right now.” He sighed. “Used to be Fredlet. Flashes of her, once in awhile. Not often.”
“So, she’s like Glory?”
Which thought would immediately put Buffy in Slaying mode. So, Spike quickly disabuses her of that particular notion.
Spike barked out a laugh. “Oh, no, pet. She’s nothing like Glory, believe me.”
Something he’d said earlier clicked. “What do you mean, if I don’t want to stay? Why would I not want to stay?”
“I can’t imagine,” he said sarcastically, gesturing around the room. “Why wouldn’t you want to stay with a couple of demons on the run from Wolfram and Hart, and leave the halfway normal life you’ve built with the Nibblet and the Immortal behind? How utterly silly of me.” He reached across the space between them and took her hand. “Now that you’ve got all the other Slayers backing you up, you have a chance to relax. I wouldn’t want to take that away from you, Buffy. Go home to your little sis. You love her, and she needs you.”
I had fun writing that little bit of sarcasm. And then he goes all sweet on her again. Note that his comment about the Immortal goes unremarked.
“But I love you too, Spike.” She frowned a little. “Are you and Illyria...?”
A natural conclusion to jump to, since, hey, Spike hasn't called her. Has he, perhaps, found someone else?
His turn to jump up and pace and run his fingers through his hair. “Oh, God, no. I am not having this conversation,” he muttered.
Frankly, after all they've been through, I'd imagine that sex with Illyria would be the last thing Spike would want. It's entirely possible they had "Hey, we're alive!" sex after "Cold Comfort," but I'm really not sure either of them would want to go there. It's a form of intimacy that Illyria might have wanted to explore before the alley, but I don't think she'd want to, afterwards.
“Spike! Then what? Because it looks like you’d rather be with her than me, from where I’m sitting.”
“It’s not like that, not really. She won’t admit it, but she needs me. And at least...at least I always know where I stand with her. And when Smurfette’s pounding the stuffing out of me, it’s not personal.” He didn’t look at Buffy when he said this.
That line was planned from the very start.
He was spared further discussion as the door crashed open and Illyria burst into the room, slamming the door behind her and carefully placing the tulip on the dresser. “The Wolf, Ram, and Hart have found us again,” she said as she turned the lock.
“Bloody hell.” Spike glanced over at Buffy as he grabbed swords and crossbows out of their weapons bag. “This isn’t your fight, luv.”
She tested the heft and edge of a battleaxe, and snorted. “Yeah, right.”
She's never been one to shy away from a fight.
“What are they this time, Bluebird?”
“Humanoid, muscular, and green. Two of them. They have a large red jewel in the center of their foreheads.”
Buffy’s head whipped around. “They what?
Illyria didn’t have time to answer. The door splintered open and a pair of Mohra demons armed with curved swords leaped into the room. Without hesitating, they attacked, dodging the crossbow bolts Spike fired at them. Buffy and Spike took on one, while Illyria battled the other. “Just like old times, eh, pet?” Spike grinned and parried a blow.
“You enjoy this--” Buffy grunted as her strike at the jewel was blocked. “--entirely too much. Try to smash the that ruby thing in the middle of its forehead.”
I got my chops busted by a reviewer over this. Thing is, I checked the transcript of IWRY, and Angel kills the Mohra demon in front of Buffy at the end of the ep, with the clock on his desk (very symbolic). So, yes, she would know how to kill it, and she would recognize one when she saw it. *sticks out tongue childishly* So there.
Spike sliced the Mohra across the arm, sending glowing green ichor flying, and dodged the counterstroke. “That kills them?”
“Yeah.” A swing and a clang as her axe met the demon’s sword.
Writing dialogue in the middle of a fight scene is hard. You have to remember to put the action in with the talking and not make it seem all awkward. Sentence fragments help with that, I think.
Illyria tilted her head as she took in that snippet of information. A cut across her brow bled freely, but her foe was wounded as well, in more than one place.
Acting in concert, Buffy and Spike attacked their opponent. Spike distracted it by jabbing and cutting at it repeatedly, as demon goo sprayed around the room, and Buffy finally got the blow she wanted in and smashed the jewel. The demon disappeared in a flash of light.
Foe, adversary, opponent...my thesaurus got a workout during this part.
They turned to Illyria. The slice on her forehead had apparently been a lucky hit, because she was almost casually taking her adversary apart. With a contemptuous gesture, she disarmed it, reversed her sword so the hilt was forward, and shattered its gem. It howled in anguish, but before it vanished, it swiped its arm across her forehead, mingling their blood.
Again, had to go back to IWRY to see just how all this happened with Mohras. Yes, I do my damb research. This fic was actually a combination of plot bunnies, with the "gift" part coming first, and then the Muse wickedly whispering in my ear "what would happen if Illyria got hit with Mohra blood?"
As Buffy and Spike looked on in fascinated horror, the blood swirled around and Illyria’s cut healed before their eyes. A glow started at the top of her head and moved down her body, and she collapsed.
More research of the episode. I probably read over it five or six times.
Spike was on his knees beside her in an instant, but recoiled and scrabbled backwards when she looked up at him with wide brown eyes. “Spike? What...? What’s the matter?”
"Wide brown eyes." My not-so-subtle way of pointing out that Illryia...isn't herself.
Spike’s voice was a bare croak. “Freddikins?”
honorh and others pointed out that Spike probably wouldn't have called her that...and they were (probably) right. I think he would if he was drunk, or maybe if he was trying to charm her. Probably not under these circumstances. It's been changed to "Freddi?" in later incarnations of this story.TBC...
