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crack_van2009-01-30 12:53 am
moscow-watcher.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2009-01-30 12:53 am
Entry tags:
Falling by Kallysten (NC-17)
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Pairing: Buffy/Spike
Length: 30,000 words.
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kallysten
Author Website: Divagations
Why this must be read:
In an alternate season 4 Buffy's decision to send the gem of Amara to Angel had horrible consequences: seeing the sun made him too happy and Angelus was back. He killed those who could shove soul back into his body and started playing cruel games with Buffy to drive her insane. But, unbeknownst to him, Buffy had an ally: Spike, who swore to avenge Angelus for torturing him.
Kallysten is a professional writer and she knows how to grab reader's attention and never let go. In Falling she combines the elements of action thriller and romantic drama as Buffy and Spike try to beat Angelus and their own controversial emotions towards each other. Kallysten's language is very poetic and expressive; the story is told concurrently from Buffy's and Spike's POV and one of the most interesting aspects of the fic is the chance to look at the same situation from opposite sides.
For a month and half, that’s how it went. We hunted. Angelus killed. He made elaborate displays for me to find, wrote me notes that, in his twisted mind, might have passed for polite correspondence. He still didn’t know Spike was with me. What he probably did know was how much his words and actions affected me. My stomach emptied too often when we found his ‘gifts’, so I took the habit to wait until we had come back from the hunt to eat.
I wasn’t the only one affected by his mind fuck. The entire country was following the path of this mad serial killer who seemed to be acting at random, leaving no one, nowhere safe. The police and the FBI were on edge, which didn’t make my job any easier.
Our job, I suppose I should say.
Spike and I were still arguing. It’s hard to be a step too late, night after night, and not try to find someone to blame. I was blaming him for just about everything, just because there was no one else for me to blame. I yelled at him for driving too slow. For driving too fast. For stealing money for gas, food and motels. For not stealing enough for us to always have separate rooms. For the way he’d wake me up when my turn in the bed was up. For not waking me up at all whenever he decided I needed more sleep. For not being any better than I was at figuring out where Angelus would be going next, or what he would do.
He gave back as good as he got. From my hair to my clothes to how little I ate, he criticized everything about me. Jabs about how being a Slayer wasn’t helping me much, now, and how I hadn’t had a Slayer dream since we had left Sunnydale, only nightmares. He kept the reminders that I had sent the ring to Angel and caused him to lose his soul—again—for particularly stormy days.
As much as we shouted, though, we were still in the same car, every night at nightfall, hunting a madman. Some nights, neither of us said a word. Some nights, we argued non-stop. It came down to blows, a few times, but never anything bad, never enough that one of us still had marks by the next night.
Never, until we reached Kansas. I’ll always remember the name of the town; Lawrence. Always remember the smell of dust and lilac in the air, and how low the full moon was, just above the horizon, casting our shadows on the ground like oversized puppets. One more night when we had arrived too late. One more grotesquely set scene of blood and death. One more shouting argument. And then something new.
That was the first night since all this mess had started that Spike and I fought—really fought, no holds barred, his game face to the front and a stake in my hand.
That was the first night, also, that when the dust settled, we weren’t glaring at each other. Instead, we were tearing each other’s clothes off.
That was the first night we slept in the same bed. Although sleeping didn’t happen right away.
Falling
Pairing: Buffy/Spike
Length: 30,000 words.
Author on LJ:
kallystenAuthor Website: Divagations
Why this must be read:
In an alternate season 4 Buffy's decision to send the gem of Amara to Angel had horrible consequences: seeing the sun made him too happy and Angelus was back. He killed those who could shove soul back into his body and started playing cruel games with Buffy to drive her insane. But, unbeknownst to him, Buffy had an ally: Spike, who swore to avenge Angelus for torturing him.
Kallysten is a professional writer and she knows how to grab reader's attention and never let go. In Falling she combines the elements of action thriller and romantic drama as Buffy and Spike try to beat Angelus and their own controversial emotions towards each other. Kallysten's language is very poetic and expressive; the story is told concurrently from Buffy's and Spike's POV and one of the most interesting aspects of the fic is the chance to look at the same situation from opposite sides.
For a month and half, that’s how it went. We hunted. Angelus killed. He made elaborate displays for me to find, wrote me notes that, in his twisted mind, might have passed for polite correspondence. He still didn’t know Spike was with me. What he probably did know was how much his words and actions affected me. My stomach emptied too often when we found his ‘gifts’, so I took the habit to wait until we had come back from the hunt to eat.
I wasn’t the only one affected by his mind fuck. The entire country was following the path of this mad serial killer who seemed to be acting at random, leaving no one, nowhere safe. The police and the FBI were on edge, which didn’t make my job any easier.
Our job, I suppose I should say.
Spike and I were still arguing. It’s hard to be a step too late, night after night, and not try to find someone to blame. I was blaming him for just about everything, just because there was no one else for me to blame. I yelled at him for driving too slow. For driving too fast. For stealing money for gas, food and motels. For not stealing enough for us to always have separate rooms. For the way he’d wake me up when my turn in the bed was up. For not waking me up at all whenever he decided I needed more sleep. For not being any better than I was at figuring out where Angelus would be going next, or what he would do.
He gave back as good as he got. From my hair to my clothes to how little I ate, he criticized everything about me. Jabs about how being a Slayer wasn’t helping me much, now, and how I hadn’t had a Slayer dream since we had left Sunnydale, only nightmares. He kept the reminders that I had sent the ring to Angel and caused him to lose his soul—again—for particularly stormy days.
As much as we shouted, though, we were still in the same car, every night at nightfall, hunting a madman. Some nights, neither of us said a word. Some nights, we argued non-stop. It came down to blows, a few times, but never anything bad, never enough that one of us still had marks by the next night.
Never, until we reached Kansas. I’ll always remember the name of the town; Lawrence. Always remember the smell of dust and lilac in the air, and how low the full moon was, just above the horizon, casting our shadows on the ground like oversized puppets. One more night when we had arrived too late. One more grotesquely set scene of blood and death. One more shouting argument. And then something new.
That was the first night since all this mess had started that Spike and I fought—really fought, no holds barred, his game face to the front and a stake in my hand.
That was the first night, also, that when the dust settled, we weren’t glaring at each other. Instead, we were tearing each other’s clothes off.
That was the first night we slept in the same bed. Although sleeping didn’t happen right away.
Falling