Ficathon Pimp, and Fic - S/X, PG-13

[dhlists]

First, the pimp - "The Colour, Sound, and Random Object Spander Ficathon."

Signups are open until Saturday January 15th, and the fic (1000 word
minimum) is due seven weeks after that, on Saturday March 5th, which, quite
coincidentally is my birthday. Clever, eh? ;o)

It's being organised via LiveJournal:
http://www.livejournal.com/community/bloodclaim/418944.html

but non-LJers are also welcome to signup, either at the above link or, if
you have issues with LJ, then email me, darkh...@slashverse.com , stating
the following:

Author name:
Working email address:
Preferred rating and genre (ie NC-17, H/C, schmoop, angst, etc):
Your Colour:
Your Sound:
Your Random Object:
Two things you'd like included:
Two things you don't want included:
Two things you can't/won't write:
Could you write a back-up fic if needed?:


The fic will be hosted on the (soon-to-be-announced) Bloodclaim website,
unless any author refuses permission, so even those people who have LJ
problems can get to read it, and those without websites can still enter :o)


And now on to the fic to keep this post legal...


Author: darkhavens
Title: The Gift That Keeps On Giving
Pairing: S/X
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Email: darkh...@slashverse.com
Website: http://darkhavens.slashverse.com/
Summary: Things take a turn for the different after School Hard
Notes: Series of eight linked 100 word drabbles for the open_on_sunday
community at LiveJournal
Challenge: 'Gifts and Presents'

~~~~~

Received

It's such a perfect gift. The prettiest thing Angelus has ever given him,
which totally pisses him off, because this isn't really Angelus after all,
but that cursed soul walking around inside his hero's skin. And to add
insult to injury there's just no bloody way to keep hold of his pressie and
still manage to bag his third slayer.

Still, it's not like the boy's going to disappear off the face of the earth
so it won't hurt to let him go, *for now*. Surely one of the silly,
screaming happy meals will know his new brown-eyed beauty's address.

~~~~~

Given

"Xaaaaaaaaaaander. Oh, Xaaaaaaaaaaander. Aren't you going to invite your
Master in to share your bed? It's the polite thing to do, you know."

The bone white face, pressed against his bedroom window, sent shivers down
Xander's spine as the crooning, hypnotic voice made every tiny hair on his
pyjama-clad body stand up and tremble.

He'd known escaping from the school unscathed wouldn't be the end of it.
Xander had seen the gleeful gleam in Spike's eye when Angel offered him up
on a silver platter - a Trojan horse, a gift to make the pretence real.

"Xaaaaaaaaaaander..."

Why was he tempted?

~~~~~

One Careful Owner

The jacket wasn't new. The tobacco brown leather looked soft and battered
but obviously cared for, and it beckoned to Xander, enticing him with
promises of warmth and comfort, urging him to lift it out of the box and try
it on.

It had been sitting on the doorstep when he'd gone to leave for school, his
parents upstairs asleep in matching alcoholic stupors. The card had been
simple and unsigned, *'I look after what's mine'* and Xander had taken ten
minutes to gather the courage to look inside.

He cursed Angel and his 'plan'.

He put on the coat.

~~~~~

The Gift of Invisibility

The only one to notice his new 'look' was Queen Cordelia, who pointed out
his 'Goodwill chic' to her bevy of maliciously inclined Cordettes. Buffy was
oblivious to any clothes that weren't on her, and Willow looked for a moment
as though she'd speak but was distracted by a question from the Slayer on
her right.

Nobody even asked about what happened the night before, and Xander couldn't
be bothered to explain.

*'Angel offered me to Spike and Spike accepted and then followed me home and
left this leather jacket on my doorstep.'*

They'd probably think he was possessed. Again.

~~~~~

The Gifts That Say 'I Care'

Four nights had passed since Angel's marvellous plan had gone awry. Each one
had been accompanied by a visit and a gift. Xander kept the first, the
leather jacket, by his bed.

The second was a fancy digital watch; it's alarm pre-set to beep at sunset
every evening for a month.
*'For safety's sake.'*

The third night brought a holdall stuffed with Twinkies and chocolate bars.
*'To keep you sweet and to fill with all your treasures.'*

The fourth was a blade of polished steel with a hand-stitched leather
sheath.
*'I can't protect you in there so keep this close.'*

~~~~~

The Gift of Life

The fifth night since the Parent Teacher fiasco found Xander waiting,
bouncing gently on the corner of his bed. Each gift was close at hand, the
jacket and watch both worn, the knife strapped to his belt.

The holdall had been emptied of the munchies, not *all* eaten, and refilled
with every precious thing he owned. It wasn't much.

And when the knocking finally commenced he threw the curtains wide and as
quietly as possible slipped the latch.

"I won't invite you in, you know that, right? You understand. They might be
crappy parents but they're mine."

"..."

"I'm coming out."

~~~~~

The Gift of Love

It had been a month since Spike had taken his present home to bed. His new
pet was as curious as a puppy and as hungry for every scrap of affection he
could get, once the shock wore off.

He'd barely even kissed a girl before he'd slept with Spike, and that
admission had caused a most arousing full-body blush.

And now the boy lay naked on his bed, head tilted back, his neck exposed to
offer up the only gift he had to give.

"I'm yours, Spike. Every fibre, every drop I have is yours. Keep me safe
forever..."

~~~~~

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

Each year they celebrated St Vigeous' Night twenty-four hours early, and
toasted Angel's plan and his choice of gift with sex and blood. And every
anniversary of note, the fifth, the tenth, and on and on into eternity, they
sent a tacky 'Thank You' present directly to his door.

Then they'd hide in nearby shadows to see him turn away the singing clowns,
the dancing bears and the occasional brace of hookers, boys *and* girls. The
pained expression he wore made sure they knew he knew that they were out
there, somewhere, keeping watch.

Spike and Xander, his *second* curse.

~~~~~

NOW, scroll back up to the top and sign up for my ficathon! *g*


darkhavens
--
Some mornings, it's just not worth chewing through the leather straps

http://darkhavens.slashverse.com
http://www.livejournal.com/users/darkhavens/
http://www.livejournal.com/community/bloodclaim/

[Saifai]

LOL - you funny. Can't wait to see what entries come out of the
ficathon. Glad to hear it'll be online as well.

Thanks for posting this fic too. It's one of my current favorites.
*gloms on and cuddles the fic*

--- dhlists <dhl...@slashverse.com> wrote:

>
> First, the pimp - "The Colour, Sound, and Random
> Object Spander Ficathon."
>

> <snip>

[dhlists]

Thanks! :o)