timepiececlock (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timepiececlock) wrote2002-12-10 10:36 pm
timepiececlock) wrote2002-12-10 10:36 pm
partial fic
This is a post-NLM fic I started tonight.
It's like, the first two pages. Basically how the SG rescues Spike--- without the aid of fandom spoilers.
Yes, it's kinda crappy now, but I'll revise it later. Anyway, here ya go. Suggestions welcome.
It was nine days before they found any of it—the raising seal, the abandoned corpses of four hooded warriors, Spike.
They’d stormed in with weapons high, battle cry ready at their lips. It wasn’t clear if they were rescuing a comrade, securing an ally, or retrieving a prisoner, and each of the group would have given a different answer for it. But they’d come—they’d come—desperate and proud and looking for a war. What they found was only aftermath.
The cadavers were piled up beside the Seal of Danzalthar the way humans drop all the clean-picked chicken bones onto one plate at a cocktail party. An act of convenience, when one planned to leave soon anyway. Eyes sewn shut and throats ripped out, skin already beginning to rot, they looked to the Scooby Gang like nothing more than leftovers.
“My god,” Xander whispered, as he approached the macabre arrangement. “Look at their necks.” You can see through to their spines, was what he wanted to say.
Buffy walked up beside him, and clucked her tongue, bending over to look for more injuries. She sucked in her breath, and shoved one of the bodies off the others, rolling it to the floor. Beneath, the neck of the fourth was now visible, torn open like the others. “The First Evil didn’t do this,” the Slayer stated, hands going to hips. “Not unless its somehow acquired corporeal form.”
“Maybe it was a tiger,” Anya wondered aloud, walking past the pile of bodies to examine the large, silver plaque imbedded in the ground nearby. Willow and Dawn followed her, both skirting widely around the corpses.
“Not many tigers in Sunnydale, Ahn,” Xander replied, but unable to come up with a real joke to back it up. “Though the missing... fronts of their necks would be about the right size for tiger a claw.” He turned away, electing to gather the weapons forgotten on the floor. No use wasting armaments, the way Buffy went through them. And anything was better than glimpsing spinal cords.
“I think you should see this Buffy,” Willow called out over her shoulder, attention on the emblem embedded in the dirt before them. “I think this is the Seal of Danthalazor Andrew was talking about.”
“Danzlathar,” Anya corrected, scrunching her nose up. “And it is, most definitely. But there’s no good staring at it too long; it’s already been opened.”
Buffy appeared at their side, crouching down next to Willow to look at it closer. “How can you tell?” she asked. The images before her looked vaguely familiar in the way hieroglyphics always did, but together their meaning was lost on her.
“It’s upside down.”
“You mean inverted?” Willow asked, tilting her head at a painful angle to imagine it reversed.
“No,” Anya said carefully, “I mean you’re looking at the bottom. Someone’s already opened the seal, and when they did it the pieces flipped, separated, and reformed like this. Underside up. These things are designed so that you can’t hide it when it’s been gotten into.”
“Looks like one solid piece to me,” Buffy muttered.
The brunette shrugged. “Yeah, well, magic.”
“If you know what this is, do you know what was sealed away?” Willow asked, wishing she had a camera to get an image of the design for later research. Who knows if it’d still be here if they came back.
Anya kicked at its edge lightly with her tennis shoe, sighing. “No, I only know how these kind of traps work; I don’t know what’s hidden in every sealed away pit in every dark corner of the earth you know. Most were sealed away expressly so that everyone else wouldn’t know. Not that it’s going to be anything good, mind you, what with the source of all evil being the one to drag it up into world again.”
“It definitely feels like something bad was here, but its empty now,” Buffy said, standing up and brushing her legs. She looked over at Dawn and gave her a reassuring, if somewhat wobbly, smile. Her sister smiled back faintly, before her eyes started wandering again. Buffy had spent a lot of thought coonsidering if Dawn should come or not, and had eventually decided that she wanted her sister where she could see her and protect her personally, added risk aside. The First Evil's presence had already invaded their home twice, and leaving the youngest Summers there alone was possibly putting up another hostage for the taking.
Besides, Dawn’s personal reasons for rescuing Spike were as valid as Buffy’s, as she was the only other one who’d cared about him last year. And while her sister’s attitude toward her the vampire was frosty and withdrawn since he’d come back into their lives, Buffy didn’t for one minute believe the other wanted him dead.
Xander was talking now, striding toward them with the dead minions’ forgotten knives and swords stacked in his GRIP. He shifted his armload and grunted under the weight, “What does it take to open up a seal this powerful anyway? If we know how they got past it maybe that will tell u---”
Dawn screamed.
Xander’s weapon collection clattered to the floor and Buffy was diving towards her sister, eyes wide and searching for the perceived attack. Willow and Anya had turned their back to the group and their gazes flew over the rest of the room. Dawn had sunk to her knees, staring up at the ceiling as her hands flew to her mouth. Buffy’s arm came around her like a safety line, pulling her into the warm safety of a hug, and as her scream died out, they all raised their eyes.
“Jesus fuck,” Harris murmured, the only one able to speak.
The vampire the Slayer's troop had rushed into that horrid room to rescue hung directly above them. He was strung fifteen feet over their heads by taut leather cords, back and limbs stretched against a torture wheel reminiscent of the dark ages and The Church, of witch trials and Inquisitions. His thin, dirty frame was parallel to the floor, and bloody gashes covered his torso like red finger-paint. Even from where the humans stood, they could see his eyes were closed, and his chest no longer moved in the affectation of breathe they'd all become accustomed to. He’d never before looked more like a dead man.
“That’s—that’s how,” Anya said carefully, voice thick. She pulled her eyes from corpse of Spike to the seal they were practically standing on. “His blood, it— they bled him onto the Seal of Danzlathar to activate it.”
It's like, the first two pages. Basically how the SG rescues Spike--- without the aid of fandom spoilers.
Yes, it's kinda crappy now, but I'll revise it later. Anyway, here ya go. Suggestions welcome.
It was nine days before they found any of it—the raising seal, the abandoned corpses of four hooded warriors, Spike.
They’d stormed in with weapons high, battle cry ready at their lips. It wasn’t clear if they were rescuing a comrade, securing an ally, or retrieving a prisoner, and each of the group would have given a different answer for it. But they’d come—they’d come—desperate and proud and looking for a war. What they found was only aftermath.
The cadavers were piled up beside the Seal of Danzalthar the way humans drop all the clean-picked chicken bones onto one plate at a cocktail party. An act of convenience, when one planned to leave soon anyway. Eyes sewn shut and throats ripped out, skin already beginning to rot, they looked to the Scooby Gang like nothing more than leftovers.
“My god,” Xander whispered, as he approached the macabre arrangement. “Look at their necks.” You can see through to their spines, was what he wanted to say.
Buffy walked up beside him, and clucked her tongue, bending over to look for more injuries. She sucked in her breath, and shoved one of the bodies off the others, rolling it to the floor. Beneath, the neck of the fourth was now visible, torn open like the others. “The First Evil didn’t do this,” the Slayer stated, hands going to hips. “Not unless its somehow acquired corporeal form.”
“Maybe it was a tiger,” Anya wondered aloud, walking past the pile of bodies to examine the large, silver plaque imbedded in the ground nearby. Willow and Dawn followed her, both skirting widely around the corpses.
“Not many tigers in Sunnydale, Ahn,” Xander replied, but unable to come up with a real joke to back it up. “Though the missing... fronts of their necks would be about the right size for tiger a claw.” He turned away, electing to gather the weapons forgotten on the floor. No use wasting armaments, the way Buffy went through them. And anything was better than glimpsing spinal cords.
“I think you should see this Buffy,” Willow called out over her shoulder, attention on the emblem embedded in the dirt before them. “I think this is the Seal of Danthalazor Andrew was talking about.”
“Danzlathar,” Anya corrected, scrunching her nose up. “And it is, most definitely. But there’s no good staring at it too long; it’s already been opened.”
Buffy appeared at their side, crouching down next to Willow to look at it closer. “How can you tell?” she asked. The images before her looked vaguely familiar in the way hieroglyphics always did, but together their meaning was lost on her.
“It’s upside down.”
“You mean inverted?” Willow asked, tilting her head at a painful angle to imagine it reversed.
“No,” Anya said carefully, “I mean you’re looking at the bottom. Someone’s already opened the seal, and when they did it the pieces flipped, separated, and reformed like this. Underside up. These things are designed so that you can’t hide it when it’s been gotten into.”
“Looks like one solid piece to me,” Buffy muttered.
The brunette shrugged. “Yeah, well, magic.”
“If you know what this is, do you know what was sealed away?” Willow asked, wishing she had a camera to get an image of the design for later research. Who knows if it’d still be here if they came back.
Anya kicked at its edge lightly with her tennis shoe, sighing. “No, I only know how these kind of traps work; I don’t know what’s hidden in every sealed away pit in every dark corner of the earth you know. Most were sealed away expressly so that everyone else wouldn’t know. Not that it’s going to be anything good, mind you, what with the source of all evil being the one to drag it up into world again.”
“It definitely feels like something bad was here, but its empty now,” Buffy said, standing up and brushing her legs. She looked over at Dawn and gave her a reassuring, if somewhat wobbly, smile. Her sister smiled back faintly, before her eyes started wandering again. Buffy had spent a lot of thought coonsidering if Dawn should come or not, and had eventually decided that she wanted her sister where she could see her and protect her personally, added risk aside. The First Evil's presence had already invaded their home twice, and leaving the youngest Summers there alone was possibly putting up another hostage for the taking.
Besides, Dawn’s personal reasons for rescuing Spike were as valid as Buffy’s, as she was the only other one who’d cared about him last year. And while her sister’s attitude toward her the vampire was frosty and withdrawn since he’d come back into their lives, Buffy didn’t for one minute believe the other wanted him dead.
Xander was talking now, striding toward them with the dead minions’ forgotten knives and swords stacked in his GRIP. He shifted his armload and grunted under the weight, “What does it take to open up a seal this powerful anyway? If we know how they got past it maybe that will tell u---”
Dawn screamed.
Xander’s weapon collection clattered to the floor and Buffy was diving towards her sister, eyes wide and searching for the perceived attack. Willow and Anya had turned their back to the group and their gazes flew over the rest of the room. Dawn had sunk to her knees, staring up at the ceiling as her hands flew to her mouth. Buffy’s arm came around her like a safety line, pulling her into the warm safety of a hug, and as her scream died out, they all raised their eyes.
“Jesus fuck,” Harris murmured, the only one able to speak.
The vampire the Slayer's troop had rushed into that horrid room to rescue hung directly above them. He was strung fifteen feet over their heads by taut leather cords, back and limbs stretched against a torture wheel reminiscent of the dark ages and The Church, of witch trials and Inquisitions. His thin, dirty frame was parallel to the floor, and bloody gashes covered his torso like red finger-paint. Even from where the humans stood, they could see his eyes were closed, and his chest no longer moved in the affectation of breathe they'd all become accustomed to. He’d never before looked more like a dead man.
“That’s—that’s how,” Anya said carefully, voice thick. She pulled her eyes from corpse of Spike to the seal they were practically standing on. “His blood, it— they bled him onto the Seal of Danzlathar to activate it.”
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I think I'll continue writing bits & pieces in my LJ, so I can go at it whenever I want, and then after I've got a decent amount I'll revise the whole thing and post it on ff.net.
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She's way smarter than Xander, and he even knows it. One of his big issues in OMWF was that Anya might see him as too plain and regular considering she's so old and experienced. I was thinking about this today while I listened to my much-played OMWF cd, actually. She can seem silly (like the bunny stuff) but I'm pretty much sure that whole phobia would make practical sense if we knew the background since Anya doesn't seem to be into groundless fears or beliefs otherwise.
:-)
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Even from where they stood below they could see his eyes were closed, and he’d never before looked more like a dead man.
Nice line. Am i a sick fuck for wanting a bit more desciption of how thrashed the poor guy was? Well, maybe when you get him down from the cross, and Buff can get a closer inspection.
Well, you've sparked my curiosity. Now i want more, please =D
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Thanks, I like Anya a lot, but I'm not very familiar with writing her character, so having Anya!Lines was new for my fic. I was actually in dnager of giving her too many, and not having anyoene else talk.
...and i thought the pacing was done nicely. The slow discovery of everything, all eyes evaluating, and whatnot.
Well, that's nice to hear--that it made sense, I mean. I hate having to fill in chronological details like remembering where everyone is standing, or making sure I don't forget someone, or giving all the characters a reasonable amount of dialogue appropriate for their presence & situation. It's why I don't often write group fics-- I like stuff between two characters, mostly. Easier to keep track of.
Am i a sick fuck for wanting a bit more desciption of how thrashed the poor guy was? Well, maybe when you get him down from the cross, and Buff can get a closer inspection.
Yep, you're a SICKO! You can't read my fic! hheeee. No, actually, that's cool, cause I know you just like Spike, and want to get onto the Spike parts already, be he awake & talking or lying naked & wounded. Heck, so do I.
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If you are, I am too. I also loved it when Dawn looked up but I wanted more description. Is he still oozing blood down on the gang or is he partially healed? Did the FE's torturers cut him in a specific and meaningful patterns that might say something to the gang (or maybe something Anya might recognize with her knowledge of demonic lore, or maybe just something symbolic)? Is he crucified onto the Saint Andrew's cross or just teathered?
Do I win the sick fuck award yet? ;-)
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Oh, great. Now I feel inadequate as a writer, you sick fuck. Pointing out my flaws. You need help.
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