Drabble Round-up

[lady_windermere]

Not been feeling too well this week. Spend more hours in bed than awake. But have eaten today and yesterday, so that is making me feel a bit better. But despite about 12 hours sleep, I am still feeling tired.

Enough of that, I did three drabbles for open_on_sunday for the prompt Time, and two drabbles for the seasonal community seasonal_sd, so I thought I would post them here.


Buffy swung round to dust the last vamp she had found on patrol. Now finished her slayer duties, she could perhaps make it to The Bronze. Fit in a little studying with Willow and some socialising with her friends. She smiled that tonight might not be such a chore as usual. Trying to balance her life between school, friends, socialising, meeting boys and her slayer duties was difficult. She was a 16 year old girl, who sneaked out at night from under her mothers roof, into the dangerous world of demon hunting.

For Buffy there just was never enough time.



Angel lurked in the shadows, cursed with his soul; he no longer had a group. Especially not one he was able to be the Alpha male in. He was shunned by demons as a travesty to their kind, and humans only dealt with him when they thought they could use him. His guilt from his actions as a soulless vampire pushed him further and further down. He was living in an ally, feeding on rats. He consoled himself he was still strong, and could defend himself. Then it was this that led to a long time existing.

Time lay heavy.



Mayor Richard Wilkins the III had waited 100 years for this. A century of planning to gain the prize so nearly in his grasp. He had manipulated for decades, made the correct contacts since the founding of Sunnydale. Always kept a position of power, while upholding good old family values. His ascension was within grasp, on the graduation. He would be an honoured guest, his first meal lots of young teenagers. He would be strong, powerful and respected. No young slayer would stand in his way.

He felt sure he had the pieces in place. Now would be his time.



Drusilla moved through the crowd. It was June 2nd, 1953 and the Coronation of the British Monarch was to take place. The crowds still swam through the city of London. Dru had insisted that Spike take her here. The new ways that transmitted messages meant that many would be here. It was an ideal time to hunt. Dru wanted to eat an aristocrat, maybe a Duke.

Spike moved up to her. “I have two prize items for the menu my love”. Taking Dru, she saw the fancy clothes and invites to a society party.

“This will be a memorable night.”



New York, 1977

Drusilla lifted up the long leather duster, her hands holding the trophy Spike had taken from his second slayer. She closed her eyes, seeing the images in her mind. The slayers sweat mingled with the scent of a child. On top of that was the aroma of Spike cigarette smoke. After he had broken the slayers neck, he had left the carriage and lit his ever present fag. Now he lay on the bed, watching her with half closed eyes. They had had sex all night long.

“The slayer has a son. A dark boy, with vengeance in his heart.