Fic: Like Blood For Chocolate
Dec. 21st, 2010 08:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dragonyphoenixTitle: Like Blood For Chocolate
Fandom: BtVS
Characters/Pairing: Angelus, Willow
Rating: PG-13
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Summary: Angelus has decided what he wants for Christmas dinner
Notes: Written for Advent Drabble and a prompt at Spike/Buffy Fag Ends: feasting
Word Count: 500
Hearing a scratching at the doorway, Angelus paused to listen. It took him a moment to identify the sound, but he grinned when he did. Willow was trying to pick the lock. Wasn’t she the resourceful little thing? He’d been right to choose her.
He opened the door carefully, not wanting to hurt her, and found her scrambling to her feet as he entered the room. Her gaze darting between him and the bed, she shrank away. “Come on,” he said, gesturing for her to lead him out of the room. When she didn’t move, he said, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. It’s time for the feast, and I never eat in bed,” which was a lie, but she didn’t need to know that yet. She looked relieved for a moment, until that busy brain started working and she remembered what he did eat.
Two quick steps and he had her by the arm, escorting her to the dining room, which was empty except for one oversized wooden chair, intricately carved with twining vines. “Sit, sit,” he told her, pleased to see her glance around the room, as if looking for an escape, before taking the seat.
“I know you don’t celebrate Christmas,” he told her, “being Jewish, but you must know something about the traditions. It is the dominant culture after all. One of the big ones, other than the blatantly Christian traditions, which I personally don’t have much use for, is feasting. When I started thinking about what I most wanted for Christmas dinner, I was surprised that my first thought wasn’t the Slayer but was you. I didn’t understand it at first, but it does make sense.” He ran his fingers from his hair, enjoying how Willow trembled under his touch. “With your rich hair, so many shades of red, and pale skin, almost like a vampire’s already, your brains and ready wit, you’re obviously the superior choice. You are pate, champagne, caviar while Buffy,” he shrugged, “let’s face it, she’s more like a half eaten burger with fries on the side.”
As he came around to the front of the chair, Angelus leaned over, resting his hands on its arms. Willow shrank back as far as the chair would let her. “The other holiday tradition is, of course, gifts. Now don’t worry,” he said, tracing a finger across her lips, “I’m not expecting you to offer,” his eyes raked down her body, “anything. Not that I’ll say no if you change your mind later, but Christmas is about giving. Do you know what gift I’m going to give you?”
“You’re going to let me go?” she stuttered.
“Willow,” Angelus admonished. “You know better than that. No. I’m going to bring you back. You won’t have that pesky soul, of course, but honestly, I’ve found life to be much better without one.” Leaning in, he whispered in her ear:
“The slaughter of innocence,
Awakening lust –
Your soul turns to ashes
And bodies to dust.”
Fandom: BtVS
Characters/Pairing: Angelus, Willow
Rating: PG-13
Concrit: Please, in comments
Disclaimer: They aren't mine, not yet, but the will be once I've taken over the world. Bwah-ha-ha.
Summary: Angelus has decided what he wants for Christmas dinner
Notes: Written for Advent Drabble and a prompt at Spike/Buffy Fag Ends: feasting
Word Count: 500
Hearing a scratching at the doorway, Angelus paused to listen. It took him a moment to identify the sound, but he grinned when he did. Willow was trying to pick the lock. Wasn’t she the resourceful little thing? He’d been right to choose her.
He opened the door carefully, not wanting to hurt her, and found her scrambling to her feet as he entered the room. Her gaze darting between him and the bed, she shrank away. “Come on,” he said, gesturing for her to lead him out of the room. When she didn’t move, he said, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. It’s time for the feast, and I never eat in bed,” which was a lie, but she didn’t need to know that yet. She looked relieved for a moment, until that busy brain started working and she remembered what he did eat.
Two quick steps and he had her by the arm, escorting her to the dining room, which was empty except for one oversized wooden chair, intricately carved with twining vines. “Sit, sit,” he told her, pleased to see her glance around the room, as if looking for an escape, before taking the seat.
“I know you don’t celebrate Christmas,” he told her, “being Jewish, but you must know something about the traditions. It is the dominant culture after all. One of the big ones, other than the blatantly Christian traditions, which I personally don’t have much use for, is feasting. When I started thinking about what I most wanted for Christmas dinner, I was surprised that my first thought wasn’t the Slayer but was you. I didn’t understand it at first, but it does make sense.” He ran his fingers from his hair, enjoying how Willow trembled under his touch. “With your rich hair, so many shades of red, and pale skin, almost like a vampire’s already, your brains and ready wit, you’re obviously the superior choice. You are pate, champagne, caviar while Buffy,” he shrugged, “let’s face it, she’s more like a half eaten burger with fries on the side.”
As he came around to the front of the chair, Angelus leaned over, resting his hands on its arms. Willow shrank back as far as the chair would let her. “The other holiday tradition is, of course, gifts. Now don’t worry,” he said, tracing a finger across her lips, “I’m not expecting you to offer,” his eyes raked down her body, “anything. Not that I’ll say no if you change your mind later, but Christmas is about giving. Do you know what gift I’m going to give you?”
“You’re going to let me go?” she stuttered.
“Willow,” Angelus admonished. “You know better than that. No. I’m going to bring you back. You won’t have that pesky soul, of course, but honestly, I’ve found life to be much better without one.” Leaning in, he whispered in her ear:
Awakening lust –
Your soul turns to ashes
And bodies to dust.”