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Flashfic
Whew. I thought I wasn't going to get this done, but here it is... Spike/Xander (sort of) for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
beamer242
Huge thanks to Kevin for betaing at very much the last minute - any mistakes that remain are mine. (marymac - I had to post now as I was scared of missing the deadline, but if I hear anything from you later that needs changing I'll fix it).
Sublimation (Stop Looking at Me Like I'm Panicking)
by doyle
If he lived through this, Alex decided, he was going to write a book. "How I Survived My Sewer Amnesiac Vampire Hell". Assuming he knew how to write. Maybe a short book. Lots of pictures. Lift-the-flap stakes.
Outside the pipe, the vampire's footsteps receded, and Alex let himself breathe again.
"Everybody okay?" he whispered.
Joan's little sister favored him with an are-you-crazy? glare. Willow was too focused on the fair-haired girl to hear him, and that gave him warm fuzzies for a second. It was sweet that his probably-girlfriend was so concerned for others.
He frowned. There was that odd feeling again, the nagging, peculiar not-rightness he'd felt back in the shop when they'd decided they were a couple based on jackets and snuggling. He had no idea if he had a mom, and if he did, whether she baked cookies. Still, he imagined if he'd ever been caught with his hand in the jar, this was how it had felt.
He tried for a manly "yeah, I'd like to get my hands on Willow's cookies", but the guilt and uneasiness just cranked up a notch.
"Do you think it's gone?" the kid whispered.
The protective instinct surged into mach ten as he took in those gigantic, frightened eyes. "Yeah, it's gone. Probably realised what scrawny snacks we'd all make - well, maybe not me..."
The feeble joke only raised the tiniest of tiny smiles, but for the first time since waking up on the floor - was it really less than an hour ago? - he felt a little in control of the situation. He'd get these girls to safety. Him. Alexander LaVelle Harris; and if he did have a mom, they were going to have words about that middle name, cookies or no. For all his bitching, Randy had gotten off damn lightly.
"We'll stay here a couple of minutes," he told the others. "Make sure that thing's way ahead of us. Then we'll double back, go back to the store. Maybe Rupert and what's-her-name found something that'll help."
There were nods and murmurs of assent all round, and Alex sank to the ground. He made a mental note to send a letter of thanks to the council of whatever the hell town this was for their roomy and surprisingly cozy sewers, and firmly stamped down any thoughts on whether there could be even more monsters lurking out there in the dark.
Thinking about the other people he'd woken up with in that weird-ass magic shop made his brain hurt. It was deja-vu with surround sound, like when he'd first looked at Joan and thought "sure, that's…" before his mind went blank again.
If he concentrated - and he did, because it took his mind off those things in the darkness - it felt like he was beginning to remember, and then it would slip away again. He couldn't fathom why Willow would inspire cookie jar guilt, or why he had the niggling feeling he'd done something terrible to Joan, or the mild panic when he thought hard about Rupert's fiancee.
The hell of it was, he remembered other things.
To Serve Man was a cookbook. No-one expected the Spanish Inquisition. The red-shirts always died.
He looked down at his own shirt.
It's orange, he told himself. Not red. No sir.
One thing he wouldn't work out was why he'd be in some new age store in the first place. Willow and Tara were students: they were probably researching a term paper or something. Joan was all superpowered, so she was bound to hang around weird, spooky places, and her kid sister could've tagged along. That left Rupert and... Enya? They ran the place. And Randy was Rupert's kid, so it was only natural he'd be hanging around.
And since she woke up wearing his jacket, it was obvious that he was dating Willow and had been dragged along
Simple.
It didn't feel right.
A lightbulb went off over his head as he thought up another explanation. Maybe he was a friend of Randy's. That made sense. Both guys, both pretty much the same age, it was completely possible they'd had a beer or two, watched some sports together. Sure, the guy had seriously awful taste in clothes, but he was English. And had surprisingly good teeth, all things considered.
He nodded, warming to this imaginary relationship. Randy seemed like a good guy. Smart, sarcastic as hell, decent in a crisis, kind of hot in a geeky way...
Alex backed that train of thought up a station or two, frantically trying to figure when exactly he'd gone insane, and why the phrase "compact, yet muscular" was playing on loop in his brain.
It was stress, he assured himself, stress or... or Stockholm syndrome or some weird side-effect of memory loss.
That had to be it. He felt relieved as he shoved all the messy insecurities to the back of his brain, along with the uncomfortable knowledge that he knew the plot of every Wonder Woman comic ever written.
Introspection: bad. Denial: excellent. Willow looked damn hot over there, whispering in a corner with Dawn. He couldn't wait to get his memories of her back. Hell, yes.
"We should get going," he said, almost leaping to his feet.
Willow looked at him strangely. "Are you okay? Your voice is funny."
"Fine," he squeaked. "We should go now."
**
The monster must have doubled back; it attacked as Dawn was climbing out of the pipe.
Alex didn't stop to think as he yelled, "hey! Over here, big guy, check out this throbbing jugular!"
There was no fear now, just an adrenaline rush. He was Superman. He was strong. Check him out, protecting the womenfolk. He was all man.
That lasted maybe a second and a half, right up until the point where the vamp sent him flying with a single punch, and he knew he was going to die.
It all felt oddly familiar.
Dawn yelled his name, and somehow he caught the jagged piece of wood she threw, and as the vampire closed in he shoved the stake as hard as he could at what he really hoped was the heart. The vampire looked surprised as it turned to dust and disintegrated. Alex, choking as the ash burned his lungs, knew the feeling.
He pulled himself to his feet, wincing as his sprained muscles protested, his heart doing a fair imitation of a jackhammer.
Please God, don't let my life get any weirder, he thought. I'm terrified. I'm hiding in a sewer. I just made a vampire explode.
And I think I'm kinda...
He didn't even notice the crystal until it shattered beneath his foot.
END
Beamer also asked for "Jasmine and the First sitting down for coffee", which won't be ready tonight, but which I hope to have sometime this week.
beamer242Huge thanks to Kevin for betaing at very much the last minute - any mistakes that remain are mine. (
marymac - I had to post now as I was scared of missing the deadline, but if I hear anything from you later that needs changing I'll fix it).Sublimation (Stop Looking at Me Like I'm Panicking)
by doyle
If he lived through this, Alex decided, he was going to write a book. "How I Survived My Sewer Amnesiac Vampire Hell". Assuming he knew how to write. Maybe a short book. Lots of pictures. Lift-the-flap stakes.
Outside the pipe, the vampire's footsteps receded, and Alex let himself breathe again.
"Everybody okay?" he whispered.
Joan's little sister favored him with an are-you-crazy? glare. Willow was too focused on the fair-haired girl to hear him, and that gave him warm fuzzies for a second. It was sweet that his probably-girlfriend was so concerned for others.
He frowned. There was that odd feeling again, the nagging, peculiar not-rightness he'd felt back in the shop when they'd decided they were a couple based on jackets and snuggling. He had no idea if he had a mom, and if he did, whether she baked cookies. Still, he imagined if he'd ever been caught with his hand in the jar, this was how it had felt.
He tried for a manly "yeah, I'd like to get my hands on Willow's cookies", but the guilt and uneasiness just cranked up a notch.
"Do you think it's gone?" the kid whispered.
The protective instinct surged into mach ten as he took in those gigantic, frightened eyes. "Yeah, it's gone. Probably realised what scrawny snacks we'd all make - well, maybe not me..."
The feeble joke only raised the tiniest of tiny smiles, but for the first time since waking up on the floor - was it really less than an hour ago? - he felt a little in control of the situation. He'd get these girls to safety. Him. Alexander LaVelle Harris; and if he did have a mom, they were going to have words about that middle name, cookies or no. For all his bitching, Randy had gotten off damn lightly.
"We'll stay here a couple of minutes," he told the others. "Make sure that thing's way ahead of us. Then we'll double back, go back to the store. Maybe Rupert and what's-her-name found something that'll help."
There were nods and murmurs of assent all round, and Alex sank to the ground. He made a mental note to send a letter of thanks to the council of whatever the hell town this was for their roomy and surprisingly cozy sewers, and firmly stamped down any thoughts on whether there could be even more monsters lurking out there in the dark.
Thinking about the other people he'd woken up with in that weird-ass magic shop made his brain hurt. It was deja-vu with surround sound, like when he'd first looked at Joan and thought "sure, that's…" before his mind went blank again.
If he concentrated - and he did, because it took his mind off those things in the darkness - it felt like he was beginning to remember, and then it would slip away again. He couldn't fathom why Willow would inspire cookie jar guilt, or why he had the niggling feeling he'd done something terrible to Joan, or the mild panic when he thought hard about Rupert's fiancee.
The hell of it was, he remembered other things.
To Serve Man was a cookbook. No-one expected the Spanish Inquisition. The red-shirts always died.
He looked down at his own shirt.
It's orange, he told himself. Not red. No sir.
One thing he wouldn't work out was why he'd be in some new age store in the first place. Willow and Tara were students: they were probably researching a term paper or something. Joan was all superpowered, so she was bound to hang around weird, spooky places, and her kid sister could've tagged along. That left Rupert and... Enya? They ran the place. And Randy was Rupert's kid, so it was only natural he'd be hanging around.
And since she woke up wearing his jacket, it was obvious that he was dating Willow and had been dragged along
Simple.
It didn't feel right.
A lightbulb went off over his head as he thought up another explanation. Maybe he was a friend of Randy's. That made sense. Both guys, both pretty much the same age, it was completely possible they'd had a beer or two, watched some sports together. Sure, the guy had seriously awful taste in clothes, but he was English. And had surprisingly good teeth, all things considered.
He nodded, warming to this imaginary relationship. Randy seemed like a good guy. Smart, sarcastic as hell, decent in a crisis, kind of hot in a geeky way...
Alex backed that train of thought up a station or two, frantically trying to figure when exactly he'd gone insane, and why the phrase "compact, yet muscular" was playing on loop in his brain.
It was stress, he assured himself, stress or... or Stockholm syndrome or some weird side-effect of memory loss.
That had to be it. He felt relieved as he shoved all the messy insecurities to the back of his brain, along with the uncomfortable knowledge that he knew the plot of every Wonder Woman comic ever written.
Introspection: bad. Denial: excellent. Willow looked damn hot over there, whispering in a corner with Dawn. He couldn't wait to get his memories of her back. Hell, yes.
"We should get going," he said, almost leaping to his feet.
Willow looked at him strangely. "Are you okay? Your voice is funny."
"Fine," he squeaked. "We should go now."
**
The monster must have doubled back; it attacked as Dawn was climbing out of the pipe.
Alex didn't stop to think as he yelled, "hey! Over here, big guy, check out this throbbing jugular!"
There was no fear now, just an adrenaline rush. He was Superman. He was strong. Check him out, protecting the womenfolk. He was all man.
That lasted maybe a second and a half, right up until the point where the vamp sent him flying with a single punch, and he knew he was going to die.
It all felt oddly familiar.
Dawn yelled his name, and somehow he caught the jagged piece of wood she threw, and as the vampire closed in he shoved the stake as hard as he could at what he really hoped was the heart. The vampire looked surprised as it turned to dust and disintegrated. Alex, choking as the ash burned his lungs, knew the feeling.
He pulled himself to his feet, wincing as his sprained muscles protested, his heart doing a fair imitation of a jackhammer.
Please God, don't let my life get any weirder, he thought. I'm terrified. I'm hiding in a sewer. I just made a vampire explode.
And I think I'm kinda...
He didn't even notice the crystal until it shattered beneath his foot.
END
Beamer also asked for "Jasmine and the First sitting down for coffee", which won't be ready tonight, but which I hope to have sometime this week.
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::snort:: How are you always so funny?
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*smooch*
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Your Xander voice is perfect.
And Tabula Rasa fic is definitely an untapped goldmine.
Can't wait to see what you'll do with TFE & Jasmine.
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I know I asked for Spander... but this is the best line in the whole thing.
whee! very very good. Thank you.
I can't wait to read Jasmine and The First Evil having coffee.
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He felt relieved as he shoved all the messy insecurities to the back of his brain, along with the uncomfortable knowledge that he knew the plot of every Wonder Woman comic ever written.
Hee!!
Great job ;-)
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almost Spander!
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