O-kay, really late night thing. Therefore, sort of insane and angry. And unedited. Bleh.

Title: Lessons
Pairing: Spike/Angelus, implied S/Dru
Rating: R- torture, implied rape
Summary: Angelus imparts some knowledge, and a little tough love.

Spikeish Table

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I really need to catch up on these- one a night, maybe, now that things are less crazy around here. I can manage that.

Don't like how this changed mid-flow.

Pairing: S/wes, S/Angel, S/Fred
Rating: PG-13?
Prompt: Touch

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Random fic-bit for lunabee34. It was intended to be really depressing. It ended up being really sappy. Or sweet, pick your poison.
Pairing: S/X
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Fluff-eriffic. Quoting of Shakespeare. Un-beta'd and possibly not with the making of sense.


( Piece of Work )

rated: G
characters: Spike
summarry: prompt #54, "Hearing"

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I'm not real happy with this, but I promised myself I'd get started on these, and if I don't post it now I'll talk myself into trashing it to write a new one. So, my first fic-bit.
Prompt: Satin
Pairing?: Yes, a little remembered Dru/Spike.

( Indulgence )

Silly stuff, for slashthedrabble. The first thing I've written in more than a month, so I'm feeling pretty rusty. C&C is worshipped shamelessly.

Title: Truth and Lies (ok, so that's the challenge- can't think of anything else.)
Pairing: S/X
Rating: PG13 (am I allowed to say that?)
Warnings: Not really. Slash, obviously. Umm, a bit sappy?

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Holy crap, I was just sitting at the computer listening to music when this just about hit me in the head. The longest and the fastest thing I've ever written, which may or may not make for badness. I should probably wait to post it so that I can tell more clearly, but I have no patience.

Following the Garbage song by the same name, which I was listening to when I began writing it. It's a beautiful song, you should hear it.

Pairing: S/X
Rating: R
Warnings: angst-tastic. I have never written a more angsty thing. I'm almost disgusted with myself.


( Cup of Coffee )

Really random. I don't even read Doyle/Angel. But whatever. For the emotion 'anger'. Much with the melodramatic, oy...

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The rage descends upon him at odd times, though it rarely takes him by surprise- he can feel the embers stir inside him days before it peaks, sometimes. It pounds through his dead veins like boiling lead, making him full and heavy and almost numb with its intensity. He stares at the spidered cracks on the concrete wall until it passes, knuckles white as the red behind his eyes seems to separate into words carved in blood. Voices cry out against his impotence, against his restraint, against the powers that gave him Doyle and then took him away.

It passes.

*music* Monty Python's Flying Circus! Except not. Just a few lonely drabbles I wrote for an old slashthedrabble challenge requiring the relationship in question to be described by outside peoples, and stuff. I was going to do one from all the scoobies, but I couldn't really get Buffy down, and after two months I don't think I'm likely to finish it anytime soon, so may as well toss it up. It's S/X. Maybe I'll post it later at bloodclaim, maybe not- I don't like cluttering up the f-lists with little drabbles, you know? Especially of what even I admit is middling quality. The guilt... it gets me right here.

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Two more bits of Travel!Spike, following these three.

Nigeria

It was a skin-and-bones dog, refugee from a village of fleas and despair and wizened little children with obscenely distended stomachs. Why it followed him, he neither knew nor cared. The damned thing seemed to sense his inability to hurt it, infuriatingly indifferent to both the curses and stones regularly hurled in its direction (and if Spike didn’t pull away from the warm body at his back in the mornings, there was no one to see.)

A farmer shot it as they passed at twilight on the dusty road.

Spike had a migraine for most of the following day.


Grasslands

The lionesses bore down on their meal, a lame wildebeest already forsaken by its panicked heard. It was a beautiful thing to watch, the hunt- predators effortlessly keeping pace with the wounded prey, pride moving together in a deadly dance. The wildebeest stumbled once more and it was over.

“Oi!” Four heads turned in tandem, golden eyes trained on the black buzzard of a man darting foreword. His scent was strangely disturbing, predatory and different. They turned as one and loped off, abandoning the kill- ignorant of his envious eyes on them.

The blood was fresh, but somehow tasted bitter.

A few bits of Spike on his way to Africa- kind of in order, but more coming that might not be. I just wanted to get these ones posted.

____

Atlantic Ocean

Low, eerie echoes of whale song traveled for miles through the ocean. The gently-rocking ship buzzed like an amplifier with sound almost too faint for human ears to pick out over the creaking of bolts and metals. But one passenger heard- crouching under the waterline, surrounded by this ancient melody of natu--

“Christ, would you shut up! Bloody fish, s’already hard enough to kip in this hole…” Spike snarled mutinously, swinging his boot against the hull of the cargo hold with a dull clang. Two weeks of this, and he was gonna be raving before he even got to Africa.


Morocco

The heat rolled over him like a wave when he stepped off the ship, and he welcomed it with a groan. Hopping down with only the smallest of stumbles, he surveyed the area- open-air market, mix of traditional burnouses and flashy tourist garb, dust and spices thick in the air. He frowned. Could be half the port cities in Africa- but then the creeping sense of familiarity drew his eyes to the far-away spire of a mosque, and the penny dropped. Ahh, Casablanca. Where Dru and he had…

“Due South, then,” he muttered, shaking off sweeter memories with a reluctant twitch.


Sahara

Spike burrowed deep into the dunes minutes before the sky began to pale with dawn, racial instincts from a time before cities and crypts driving him underground. He shut his eyes and tried to sleep, but his reflexive breathing quickly filled his mouth and nose with sand, and he woke up fighting the human memory of suffocation.

All was silent but the constant hiss of sand sliding away on the wind, slowly eroding his shelter and his nerves layer by layer by layer...

When sunset came he ran for miles, shaking with adrenaline and the shivery fear of death.

A drabble. S/Xish, random. Blah, it's late and my brain is fried from staying up till 4 AM last night reading fanfic... Bad idea, man.
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Spike reminded him of nothing more than an old tomcat- sleek and scarred, and something about the way he carried himself. He’d somehow picked up that feline trick of projecting smug aloofness in every line of his body, which invariably made Xander want to kick him. And yet, when the nights were long and the masks wavered, there was a flicker of something that always gave him pause- wariness, a tensing into fight or flight position born of being kicked too many times, of being driven off and driven out.

Something young and buried in Xander wants to pet him.

((...Something I'm familiar with, as a teenager. Rated R for cursing, no pairing- just Spike.))

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Something fairly new, at last. Finally done with dragging all my scraps of story here, thank god. I am way too tired for it to be 9:50.

Rating: HARD R or possibly tame NC17.
Words: 824
Pairing: S/A slash
Genre: Angst? Porn: Angsty porn? Search me.
((A/N: One of those very late night things. I can’t sleep, I write strangeness. Just how it works, I guess.))

( Women )

The first piece longer than a ficlet I ever wrote, it's strange and rambling and feverish sounding, though that was mostly on purpose. I believe it was written sometime back in January.

I like it, though. Like a baby blanket. It's old and full of holes, but it's mine.

( Sunnydale Shuffle )

And the second in the series, complete with original author's note:

( Stray Dog Strut )

(Ho, hum.) This was a ficlet, but I post it in its uncut state.

Title: Magic Carpet Ride
Pairing: S/X
Rating: Pg13
Summary: Spike and Xander run into trouble with a magical artifact. Again.

( Magic Carpet Ride )

Still doing the archiving thing. A series of four 200 word ficlets I finished recently. All of them are Spike/Xander slash, for the Slashthedrabble challenge Elements:

( Fire )
( Water )
( Earth )
( Air )

The majority of these are slashy, mostly because slashthedrabble is the only ficlet community I've joined. Of varying quality and length, though I'm pretty sure they're all pg13 or over.

Oldest to newest again. Read: Crappiest to marginally less crappy.
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( Love Is )
( Pain )
( Leaving )
( That Lost )
( Oral Fixation )
( Scar Tissue )
( Oops )
( Hands )
( Animal )
( Cooling Down )

These things, I have them everywhere. They saturate my hard-drive, even if I'm not stupid enough to post them all. Let's see how many LJ will let me post in a go. (In general order of oldest to newest, of course. Because I'm that lazy.)

All are exactly 100 words, to the best of my knowledge. A variety of ratings, pairings, challenges.

+++

( Momentous )
( Two Cities )
( What I Like About You )
( Hold Your Breath )
( Happy Days )
( Special Report )
( Bad Day )
( Forever )
( School Hard )
( The Change )
( Enmity )