Ficlet: Twists and Turns
Sep. 9th, 2020 10:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beer_good_foamyWait, what? I wrote fic? Oh right, that's a thing I used to do in the before-fore times. This is for my ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
buffyversebingo card, and... let's say the "Habeas Corpses" square.
Title: Twists and Turns
Author: Beer Good (beer_good_foamy)
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, pre-series
Characters/Pairing: Spike, Drusilla, Dalton
Rating: PG13
Word count: ~750
Summary: There are rules for how to fight the undead. Being magical (or worse, metaphorical) some of them are bound to work better than others. And sometimes, as Spike and Dru are about to learn the hard way, technological advances bring some of the old ones back into play.
Vampires were fine right up until the point where, suddenly, they weren’t.
- Terry Pratchett
Twists And Turns
"Damnit."
"What's wrong, Spike? What is that?"
"Nothing. Just let me... Ah, there you go, you little... Oh bugger."
Being undead, there are many myths about vampires and how to fend them off; it's not as if simple biological rules apply to animated corpses. Some of said myths are true, others ... less so. Throughout their existence, Spike and Drusilla had come across most of them.
"The naughty Slayer is getting away, Spike..."
"Just give me one sodding minute, will you?"
They'd learned to be wary, if not scared (it takes more than just owning a stake) of sunlight, holy water, fire, crosses and sharp bits of wood. But just as they'd laughed over fledgling vampires who thought it took Carpathian wood and a mallet to stake a vampire, or actual unwavering belief in a particular sect of Christianity for the cross to work, they'd come across quite a few people whose ideas of the vampires' weaknesses were, let's say, unreliable. Most of them had gone from very smug to very scared to very dead before they had even had time to argue why it should work.
"Spike, what about that blue one - "
"I CAN SEE THE BLUE ONE, DRU. I can't very well chop it off and squeeze it in on the other side, can I?"
Back in the late 60s, they'd eaten very well for a few years after an underground publisher in San Francisco put out a popular folder purporting to be a mediaeval treatise on vampire slaying, which was only marginally more laughable for its content than for its attempts at old English. ("Listen to this, Dru: No vampyre dare cross river, or beck, or stream, or creek, or… It goes on like that for a while. Therefore, whomsoeverst crosseth water that runneth shall be sayfe from the vampyric fiend, yea, be it not low tyde the nyght before Saint Mark's Feast. If this publisher... whatshisface... Dalton, isn't a vampire living by a river, I'm Varney the Vampire.") The folder, which also dismissed the effects of crosses and holy water as "heathen superstitionne", went on to mention silver ("partickularly if stamped with the sovereign's head and therefore legal tender") and iron as dependable vampire repellents, along with hawthorne, roses, mustard, and "that foul herb allium, known amongst the yeomanry as garlicke" (nobody likes the smell of garlic, OK? There are still plenty of vampires in France).
But Spike's favourite passage was always the bit about the counting. If ye meet a vampyre upon a road, and ye carry not coin of silver or their equivalent in bankenotes with which to horrify and burn the craven beast, throwen ye a handful of copper, dyfferently colouréd beads, or forsooth even mixed nuts or seeds at the vampyre's godless feet. Being a creature accursed in THE LORD'S syghte, the vampyre cannot pass a pile of small colourful objects, nay, but that he first be compelled to stop and count and correctly order them, ere he continue his pursuit of his victimme. For years, Spike had hoped to meet someone who would try this, but it seemed even hippies were a bit skeptical of that one (or maybe just really reluctant to let go of any seeds or pills they might be carrying).
That is, until one night in 1981.
The night had begun so promising. He'd been stalking the Slayer for days, figuring out her tactics, her fighting style, her habits. On the night, he'd let a couple of minions lead her away from her familiar hunting grounds and given them strict orders to disarm her of crosses, stakes or swords at any cost ("Don't worry lads, I'll make sure she doesn't have time to get her mallet out"). After they were dust, he and Dru cornered the now-defenseless Slayer in an alley and were just about to move in for the kill, when the terrified girl started emptying her pockets and throwing anything she had at them.
"There are fifty-four angels dancing on that side, Spike. If you turn it - "
" - then the red one will end up on the bottom and I'm right back where I bloody started, Dru. All we need to do is get all of the colours on the same side, how hard can it be?!"
As Spike and Dru spent hours hunched over the Rubik's Cube the Slayer had thrown at them, the girl ran for her life, wishing she hadn't thrown her Walkman first.
buffyversebingo card, and... let's say the "Habeas Corpses" square. Title: Twists and Turns
Author: Beer Good (
beer_good_foamy)Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, pre-series
Characters/Pairing: Spike, Drusilla, Dalton
Rating: PG13
Word count: ~750
Summary: There are rules for how to fight the undead. Being magical (or worse, metaphorical) some of them are bound to work better than others. And sometimes, as Spike and Dru are about to learn the hard way, technological advances bring some of the old ones back into play.
Vampires were fine right up until the point where, suddenly, they weren’t.
- Terry Pratchett
Twists And Turns
"Damnit."
"What's wrong, Spike? What is that?"
"Nothing. Just let me... Ah, there you go, you little... Oh bugger."
Being undead, there are many myths about vampires and how to fend them off; it's not as if simple biological rules apply to animated corpses. Some of said myths are true, others ... less so. Throughout their existence, Spike and Drusilla had come across most of them.
"The naughty Slayer is getting away, Spike..."
"Just give me one sodding minute, will you?"
They'd learned to be wary, if not scared (it takes more than just owning a stake) of sunlight, holy water, fire, crosses and sharp bits of wood. But just as they'd laughed over fledgling vampires who thought it took Carpathian wood and a mallet to stake a vampire, or actual unwavering belief in a particular sect of Christianity for the cross to work, they'd come across quite a few people whose ideas of the vampires' weaknesses were, let's say, unreliable. Most of them had gone from very smug to very scared to very dead before they had even had time to argue why it should work.
"Spike, what about that blue one - "
"I CAN SEE THE BLUE ONE, DRU. I can't very well chop it off and squeeze it in on the other side, can I?"
Back in the late 60s, they'd eaten very well for a few years after an underground publisher in San Francisco put out a popular folder purporting to be a mediaeval treatise on vampire slaying, which was only marginally more laughable for its content than for its attempts at old English. ("Listen to this, Dru: No vampyre dare cross river, or beck, or stream, or creek, or… It goes on like that for a while. Therefore, whomsoeverst crosseth water that runneth shall be sayfe from the vampyric fiend, yea, be it not low tyde the nyght before Saint Mark's Feast. If this publisher... whatshisface... Dalton, isn't a vampire living by a river, I'm Varney the Vampire.") The folder, which also dismissed the effects of crosses and holy water as "heathen superstitionne", went on to mention silver ("partickularly if stamped with the sovereign's head and therefore legal tender") and iron as dependable vampire repellents, along with hawthorne, roses, mustard, and "that foul herb allium, known amongst the yeomanry as garlicke" (nobody likes the smell of garlic, OK? There are still plenty of vampires in France).
But Spike's favourite passage was always the bit about the counting. If ye meet a vampyre upon a road, and ye carry not coin of silver or their equivalent in bankenotes with which to horrify and burn the craven beast, throwen ye a handful of copper, dyfferently colouréd beads, or forsooth even mixed nuts or seeds at the vampyre's godless feet. Being a creature accursed in THE LORD'S syghte, the vampyre cannot pass a pile of small colourful objects, nay, but that he first be compelled to stop and count and correctly order them, ere he continue his pursuit of his victimme. For years, Spike had hoped to meet someone who would try this, but it seemed even hippies were a bit skeptical of that one (or maybe just really reluctant to let go of any seeds or pills they might be carrying).
That is, until one night in 1981.
The night had begun so promising. He'd been stalking the Slayer for days, figuring out her tactics, her fighting style, her habits. On the night, he'd let a couple of minions lead her away from her familiar hunting grounds and given them strict orders to disarm her of crosses, stakes or swords at any cost ("Don't worry lads, I'll make sure she doesn't have time to get her mallet out"). After they were dust, he and Dru cornered the now-defenseless Slayer in an alley and were just about to move in for the kill, when the terrified girl started emptying her pockets and throwing anything she had at them.
"There are fifty-four angels dancing on that side, Spike. If you turn it - "
" - then the red one will end up on the bottom and I'm right back where I bloody started, Dru. All we need to do is get all of the colours on the same side, how hard can it be?!"
As Spike and Dru spent hours hunched over the Rubik's Cube the Slayer had thrown at them, the girl ran for her life, wishing she hadn't thrown her Walkman first.
no subject
Date: 2020-09-10 07:02 pm (UTC)