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crack_van2010-07-23 11:12 pm
sandystarr88.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2010-07-23 11:12 pm
Entry tags:
The Road to Byzantium by Barb C (PG-13)
Fandom: BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER
Pairing: Gen; Spike, Dawn, Anya
Length: 17,381
Author on LJ: [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]
Author Website: Barb's BtVS Fanfic
Why this must be read:
Spike and Dawn's odd little friendship is just written so brilliantly in this piece, with Anya and her hysterical one liners coming along for the ride. Part of a much larger post-Gift AU series, this one works just fine as a standalone piece. The high tension of staying one step ahead of the Knights, and the adventure of it all make this story a very satisfying read.
Spike was on fire again.
The dusting of curly light-brown hair on his left wrist was starting to singe and fizzle in the filtered sunlight. Wisps of smoke curled upwards and whipped away out the window. The first time it had happened, sitting at a red light in Ventura, Dawn had panicked and thrown her Diet Sprite at him. By now, fifteen miles out of Ojai, it was starting to get old.
"Fucking hell," the vampire muttered, slapping the flames out before his skin could catch. He examined the red spot with a scowl. Dawn fished an ice cube out of her cup and handed it over to him solemnly.
In the back seat, Anya looked up from her magazine and heaved an exasperated sigh. "You know, if we'd just waited until it was dark..."
Spike took a drag on his cigarette and flicked the butt out the window. It bounced off a Fire Danger: HIGH sign and tumbled to the shoulder in a shower of orange sparks. "Not a chance. We want to be well out of Sunnydale before those Byzantium wankers roll in."
"Because running away from them worked so well the last time," Dawn muttered, so low that no one could hear it.
No one except the vampire with super-sensitive ears, anyway. A muscle in Spike's jaw twitched, and his knuckles went whiter-than-white on the wheel. "Not going to be like the last time," he said flatly.
"I didn't mean it like..." Dawn trailed off unhappily. Of course it wasn't going to be like last time. Last time her sister had been with them. Not that it had made any difference, in the end. But Buffy was gone now. My sister is dead, Dawn thought, rolling the words around in her brain, testing the weight of them. It wasn't fair. She hadn't even had time to get used to My mother is dead yet. Buffy'd died a hero, saving the world - saving her - one last time. But dead was still dead.
It didn't help the way the others looked at her - pitying, sure, but she was positive that behind the pity was Why are you still here? Dawn couldn't blame them. Sometimes she asked herself the same thing.
"It's all right." Anya reached out with the hand that wasn't still encased in a neon-purple wrist brace, and patted Spike's shoulder. "We realize that it must be emasculating for you to be sent away with the non-combatants, but - "
Spike's scowl was just a hair short of game face. ""m not a sodding non-combatant!" he snarled, leaning over to fiddle with the radio.
The car swerved. Anya hopped up and finger-flicked the back of his head. "Ten and two, Spike!"
Reflexively, Spike swung around and batted back, only to double over in agony as the chip fired. Dawn dropped her soda and grabbed the steering wheel, ice cubes cascading across the floor as the DeSoto slewed across both lanes and leaped the shoulder onto rough ground. The gnarled trunk of a live oak reared up before them, and then Spike's long fingers covered hers, his lips skinned back in a terrified snarl as he wrestled his pain and the black steel monster of a car into submission. Tires thundered over gravel, a spray of prickly leaves clawed the hood, and with a bump and a jounce they were back on the highway. Spike brought the DeSoto to a halt and sat there, head bowed, shoulders shaking, hands welded to the steering wheel.
"Violence is never the answer," Anya observed placidly. She sat back and gave the pages of her Modern Bride a crisp snap. "Extremely satisfying, but never the answer."
The Road to Byzantium
Pairing: Gen; Spike, Dawn, Anya
Length: 17,381
Author on LJ: [Bad username or site: @ livejournal.com]
Author Website: Barb's BtVS Fanfic
Why this must be read:
Spike and Dawn's odd little friendship is just written so brilliantly in this piece, with Anya and her hysterical one liners coming along for the ride. Part of a much larger post-Gift AU series, this one works just fine as a standalone piece. The high tension of staying one step ahead of the Knights, and the adventure of it all make this story a very satisfying read.
Spike was on fire again.
The dusting of curly light-brown hair on his left wrist was starting to singe and fizzle in the filtered sunlight. Wisps of smoke curled upwards and whipped away out the window. The first time it had happened, sitting at a red light in Ventura, Dawn had panicked and thrown her Diet Sprite at him. By now, fifteen miles out of Ojai, it was starting to get old.
"Fucking hell," the vampire muttered, slapping the flames out before his skin could catch. He examined the red spot with a scowl. Dawn fished an ice cube out of her cup and handed it over to him solemnly.
In the back seat, Anya looked up from her magazine and heaved an exasperated sigh. "You know, if we'd just waited until it was dark..."
Spike took a drag on his cigarette and flicked the butt out the window. It bounced off a Fire Danger: HIGH sign and tumbled to the shoulder in a shower of orange sparks. "Not a chance. We want to be well out of Sunnydale before those Byzantium wankers roll in."
"Because running away from them worked so well the last time," Dawn muttered, so low that no one could hear it.
No one except the vampire with super-sensitive ears, anyway. A muscle in Spike's jaw twitched, and his knuckles went whiter-than-white on the wheel. "Not going to be like the last time," he said flatly.
"I didn't mean it like..." Dawn trailed off unhappily. Of course it wasn't going to be like last time. Last time her sister had been with them. Not that it had made any difference, in the end. But Buffy was gone now. My sister is dead, Dawn thought, rolling the words around in her brain, testing the weight of them. It wasn't fair. She hadn't even had time to get used to My mother is dead yet. Buffy'd died a hero, saving the world - saving her - one last time. But dead was still dead.
It didn't help the way the others looked at her - pitying, sure, but she was positive that behind the pity was Why are you still here? Dawn couldn't blame them. Sometimes she asked herself the same thing.
"It's all right." Anya reached out with the hand that wasn't still encased in a neon-purple wrist brace, and patted Spike's shoulder. "We realize that it must be emasculating for you to be sent away with the non-combatants, but - "
Spike's scowl was just a hair short of game face. ""m not a sodding non-combatant!" he snarled, leaning over to fiddle with the radio.
The car swerved. Anya hopped up and finger-flicked the back of his head. "Ten and two, Spike!"
Reflexively, Spike swung around and batted back, only to double over in agony as the chip fired. Dawn dropped her soda and grabbed the steering wheel, ice cubes cascading across the floor as the DeSoto slewed across both lanes and leaped the shoulder onto rough ground. The gnarled trunk of a live oak reared up before them, and then Spike's long fingers covered hers, his lips skinned back in a terrified snarl as he wrestled his pain and the black steel monster of a car into submission. Tires thundered over gravel, a spray of prickly leaves clawed the hood, and with a bump and a jounce they were back on the highway. Spike brought the DeSoto to a halt and sat there, head bowed, shoulders shaking, hands welded to the steering wheel.
"Violence is never the answer," Anya observed placidly. She sat back and gave the pages of her Modern Bride a crisp snap. "Extremely satisfying, but never the answer."
The Road to Byzantium
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