evenstar_estel got the ball rolling with Ecstasy in Blue .
vegmb has written [untitled]
speakr2customrs has just posted Attack of the Fifty-Foot Willow
hils posted Spike of the Ring a BtVS/LoTR crossover.
ladyoneill has written Writhing Love.
No early night for me.
Don't forget to ASK ILLYRIA your problems.
It's about time I got on with it. Here's Part One of my story. No tentacles so far, but they're coming! Pesky plotishy stuff first. Part Two later or tomorrow.
Succour - Bogwitch
Valentine’s Day. What a joke. And as usual, it was on him.
Here he was, another year and 6000 miles from the Slayer he loved, and the only woman he had to entertain was a primordial demon King in the body of his dead friend. He’d always had a strange kind of luck.
Illyria sat primly beside him, perched up high on the bar stool in a commanding position she appeared to like. She was pointedly ignoring his decent into drunken oblivion by closely inspecting the bar’s Valentine decorations as she did everything, as if they were some great treasure full of significance.
“This room is decorated with shapes that represent hearts,” Illyria observed after she’d finished her analysis. “Does this day commemorate foes vanquished in some great battle?”
Spike snorted in reply, trust Illyria to draw attention to something he was trying to ignore. He took a deep swig of his drink. “More like the victors. Winners of the greatest battle of them all.”
Illyria digested that, before forming a new question. “Is this the Agincourt of which you spoke?”
Spike smiled, Illyria just couldn’t make the right connections. “No, pet. It’s Love and all that.”
“Such weakness is celebrated in your culture?” she asked. “Why is this so? The emotion serves no function.”
Spike looked deep into his glass. “Good attitude to have. Keep it up.”
“I wish to hear more. You shall tell me. What are the rituals of this day?”
Spike sighed. “Today’s supposed to be about lovers, all romance and flowers…”
“How does this work?” Illyria asked.
Spike shrugged. “Dinner and a movie? Then a bit a of a shag?”
“This is what you did with your Slayer.”
“Hell no, She wouldn’t have… We skipped straight to the shagging part. Now Dru and I…” He paused again and thought for a moment. The things he’d done with Drusilla in the name of passion made his soul a little queasy. “Let’s just say we’d have our dinner at the movies.”
“Why, in your reckoning of time, is this celebrated on this day?”
“It’s the day that the birds are supposed to choose their mates,” Spike told her. “And so mushy couples go out and drool over each other in public. Just makes everyone else feel like shit.”
Illyria nodded stiffly, thinking she understood. “This is why you imbibe alcohol, to make yourself forget the meaning of this day.”
Spike took yet another swig and the room started to blur nicely. “That’s it, right on the money.”
“I wish to understand why humans waste energy on such a repugnant emotion,” Illyria said after a while.
“Repugnant? Doesn’t feel like that when you’re in it,” Spike said glumly, before smiling nostalgically. “Feels like the best thing that ever happened. Feels like there’s something special between you and her, especially when you’re making love…”
“‘Making love’?” Illyria said, doubtfully.
“Sex, bluebell. It’s just better with a bit of love.”
“In my day only the greatest warriors, their prowess counted in the blood of their slain, would be selected to maintain their bloodlines. Humans waste their brief existence on trivialities. Such a thing as love serves no purpose for such a fleeting moment.”
“Hey! Who you calling ‘fleeting’?” Pride affronted, he got to his feet. Slightly wobbly, he managed to knock over his stool. “Bet I could show you a thing or two.”
Illyria looked at him sharply. Her wintry stare bored into him. “Your kind could not endure the full ritual of mating.”
Illyria looked away, trying to look unconcerned by his posturing. “You are but a half breed, vermin that should have been crushed before you rose from the filth. You are not worthy of such an honour.”
“Spare me the muck speech, pet. I’ve heard it,” Spike threw his arms out wide. “Take a look around, your omnipotence. The world’s changed,” he jabbed a finger in her direction. “You’ve changed. No one knows who you are. Glory days are over.”
She rose slowly to her feet and turned to regard him. “You would challenge me? You would presume to fornicate with your superior?”
Spike swallowed, that hadn’t been quite what he’d meant. “Never stopped me before.”
Illyria looked at him. This was not her usual unfocused glower or expressionless stare. “You have been of use to me. I shall offer you such succour to get you through this day. I will accept your offer.”
Spike was speechless, in way over his head now. This wasn’t what he’d wanted at all. Okay, he was really drunk and really horny, so he didn’t need any other excuse; Illyria was woman-shaped and offering. Maybe if he closed his eyes and ignored her resemblance to Fred, he might be able to go through with it.