Secondly, I keep feeling like I owe an explanation for stuff. I'm not posting that much any more. I know a big part of that is because I've been so crazy busy, but still, I feel guilty because, well, that's who I am. I know it looks like I haven't been writing, but that's actually far from the truth. I've been writing fairly consistently since I finished Echoes. It's just that 80% of that isn't Spuffy.
1. The vast part of my writing time lately has been going with a new obsession of mine. It's a community called
wickedverse, and while it started out as an RPG, it's developed into more of an interactive fic. I've written Spike since the beginning, and in a game reshuffling a few weeks ago, have taken on a couple other characters as well, including Faith. It's been an eye-opener, in a lot of ways. First of all, I lost my slash cherry. Pretty soundly, actually. And oddly quick. And enjoyed it. A lot. Secondly, there's zero Spuffy in it. In fact, Spike has never even had a scene with Buffy, and it's likely to stay that way for at least a while. The bulk of my stuff for Spike has been Spangel and Sparla (yes, you read that right, Sparla), and now that I've taken over for Faith, I'm writing a ton of Wes/Faith. And more smut than I have ever done in such a short time period since joining the fandom four years ago.If you're curious, go check it out. The basic premise is that the true villains of the Hellmouth are the Scoobies, with the vampires Angel, Spike, and Dru as the lesser of the two evils. There are some fantastic people there, including
sadbhyl, pepperlandgirl4, lawyergirl15, mydeira, icemink, and cafedemonde. There's also summaries that I have been putting up so that people who are new to the 'verse can get caught up. They're in alphabetical order and everything. ;)2. I'm slowly getting prepared for my day in 13 days at
seasonal_spuffy. I have 5 chapters of my fic done, but what looked to be an 8 or 9 chapter fic, now looks longer. Surprise surprise. As in not. 3. I was also crazy enough to join
joss_las this round. For those of you who don't know what that is, it's a community where people write a drabble of 100-1000 words each round (which usually lasts 10 days to 2 weeks), and then people vote on their least favorite of that round. This round is all about Spike, and the poll for Round 2 just went up this afternoon. The challenge this week was to write either Spuffy or Spander, and while I can't tell you which one is mine, I can encourage you to go over and vote for your LEAST favorite of the entries.I can also share with you my offering for the first round. The challenge was candles, and I went genfic. And dark.
*****
To the casual observer, a single taper, slim and pale, can be completely innocent. Innocuous.
Impotent.
And they would be right for the most part. One candle all on its own can do little damage without the proper ignition.
So he waits. Bides his time. Watches the Watcher grow complacent and oh so lax in his presence. Gathering the supplies he needs is simple. With so much magic and mayhem surrounding the Slayer and her crew, finding enough candles to do the job is as simple as looking into a cupboard. Or nicking them from the witch’s bag. Or taking them from the Watcher’s bath.
It’s even simple to get the sleeping pills to slip into the Watcher’s tea.
The night he picks, he knows the Slayer and her crew will be busy, some balderdash at the Bronze that they’ve been nattering about for days. The Watcher retires early, leaving him to his telly and novelty mug in peace and quiet, and all he has to do is wait until the rhythms from the loft settle into hypnotic ripples through the air. Then he works. The candles are in place and lit within minutes.
Hours pass before the trucks and sirens come screeching to a halt in front of the burning building. Smoke billows in thick clouds against the clear sky, blotting out the stars and silencing their call just as the swarming people along the lawn and in the street attempt to do the same with the fire. Nobody sees him in his corner of darkness, but he see them, he sees them all, even the Slayer when she appears like a wraith along the periphery of the police tape.
“What did it?” he hears her ask one of the firemen. The flames crackle behind her, but her voice is as clear and cold as the night, ready to battle whatever it is that took her Watcher away from her.
“It looks like he fell asleep with candles burning. The blankets caught on fire first, and then it just spread.”
She accepts the explanation calmly, though even from that distance he can feel the tumult inside her heart. Waiting until she has separated herself from the rest of the crowd, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his lighter, making sure the sound of it opening and closing is audible as he edges out of the shadows.
When she turns to look at him across those many feet, the California smile is gone. The only thing alive in her face is the desolation in her eyes. Spike smirks, salutes, then melts back into the blackness before she can come for him.
He cannot kill the Slayer. Not yet. But he can hurt her. Make her bleed.
Make her burn.
Even a single pale candle can kill, given the proper ignition.
