100-Word Drabbles

Title: 100-Word Drabbles
Author: Dea Brynhild Ensomhet Spikess
Pairing: vary by drabble
Email: BrynSpikess@hotmail.com
Archival: Just ask and ye shall recieve.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except for a JM autograph and a cat.
Author's Notes: Inspired by LJ community Open_On_Sunday.
Last updated: 2/21/05


Table of Contents:

Minor Character: By Any Other Name
Minor Character: Birds and the Bees
Minor Character: Specter's Gaze
Books: Scribbles and Glyphs
Books: Living in the Library
Hands: Phantom Pain
Hands: Drabble of an Evil Hand
Hands: The World's No Fun Anymore
Hands: There Is Nobody Caring
Hands: Enough of the Hyperbole!
Hands: Frankenstine's Bride
Poetry: Much Ado About Spike
Poetry: Much Ado About Cordelia
Poetry: It Doesn't Say Spare Me
Transportation: Miscellaneous Thoughts for 200, Alex.
Transportation: Dealing with Death
Secrets: Rain of Toads
Secrets: I Hear Dead People
Secrets: I just thought...
Slayers who aren’t Buffy: Paralyzed
Food/Eating: Snow Gifts
Hair: Brooding Resemblance
Hair: Bedhead Liaisons
Lost: Security Blankets
Lost: Riches to Rags
Lost: Time and Place
Unexpected: Little blue strip
One Hundred: Tootsie Roll Pop
One Hundred: 14 weeks and 2 days
One Hundred: Photo Albums


Title: By Any Other Name
Theme: Minor Character
Timeline: Bs1, Welcome to the Hellmouth
Mood: Light, Ditzy

Ms. Murray is forcing us to read Romeo and Juliet, which is demented since I saw the movie like a million times last year. Leo is so cute! And what’s up with the weird language? Nancy swears it’s English, but I don’t believe her. Why can’t they write normal? A rose by any other name would sell way less. What if you called it a Zelo? Who’d want to buy a Zelo for their girlfriend? Name is everything. My parents say-

"Aphrodisia! Did you see her yet?"

"Hey Aura. Who, the new kid? What kind of name is Buffy, anyway?"


Title: Birds and the Bees
Theme: Minor Character
Timeline: Bs2, Halloween
Mood: Spooky and twisted, a bit psychological

George bought her seventeen freshly cut daisies. The next day she dumped him, crying as she buried the flowers.

She asked him once what he’d been for Halloween twelve years ago. His mother had made him a cowboy outfit.

She still dreams about it every night. Petals fluttering, cells in her leaves processing food from the moonlight. A bee spreading pollen across her stigma. Nine months later she buried a stillborn creature in the bottom of the girl’s restroom trashcan. Six years later she was taught the ‘birds and the bees’, and she finally understood. Doesn’t stop the hurting, though.


Title: Specter's Gaze
Theme: Minor Character
Timeline: Bs3, The Wish
Mood: verging on dark. Victim's thoughts.

So fucking stupid, but she had no choice. Mother needed her pills and she was the only one left. Dad disappeared on the way home from work, little bro found with a broken neck on their porch one morning. She was hurrying home when the sun faded enough for them to grab her.

She knows there's no escape, but she can't quite suppress her rebellious streak. She screamed until they cut out her tongue; now she can only stare. Staring makes them more uncomfortable than her screaming had, but they haven't carved out her eyeballs yet, so there's still hope.

Master: I've lost my appetite for this one. She keeps looking at me. I'm trying to eat, and she *looks* at me.


Title: Scribbles and Glyphs
Theme: Books
Timeline: Bs1, I Robot You Jane
Mood: Light gray, rather PG.

Ink on parchment, bound in leather. Scribbles, signs, and glyphs. How can these insignificant materials bind and hold such massive power? They thought they could stop me, strip my energy and banish me. I will not be overcome; I will emerge victorious, surrounded by those who love me. Until then, I will conceal my power, remain here shrouded by darkness and plan my return.

I can feel the time of my awakening draw near. Ancient words weaved into spells, read and understood. I am released, I am free, I am... wait, this isn’t right, I don’t understand. Where am I?


Title: Living in the Library
Theme: Books
Timeline: Bs1, Out of Mind, Out of Sight
Mood: Light gray, rather PGish.

Growing up, I devoured books, indulging until stories had taken the place of reality. When my friends ignored me, when I couldn’t get my parents’ attention, I could still turn a page. As long as I could still read and think, school and family didn’t matter. I protected the library, scaring away vandals. I knew the librarians intimately, left book recommendations on their desks.

Twenty years later, the government found me. One hooligan caught on, phoned me in. Now I’m forced to read books I would’ve never touched. There’s a new girl in class, Marcie. Maybe she’ll help me escape.


Title: Phantom Pain
Theme: Hands
Timeline: As5, Damage
Mood: Dark and angsty.

He'd thought nothing could be worse than what the Initiative had done, reducing him to a pathetic shadow of himself. That torture was nothing compared to this.

"I'm sorry." There'd been tears in Fred's eyes. None of the others has been down to visit, although Angel's guilt would lure him soon enough.

Sod this. He needed to get out. Spike's arms were mummified from the shoulder down; he grasped the doorknob between his bandaged limbs. It wouldn't turn, gauze slipping on cold metal. For the first time in four years, he prayed for a stake.

"We can't reattach your hands."


Title: Drabble of an Evil Hand
Theme: Hands
Timeline: As2, Dead End
Notes: I'm sorry. I couldn't resist.



Title: The World's No Fun Anymore
Theme: Hands
Timeline: Bs3, Doppelgangland
Notes: Sorry, I suck at titles. Bit of a minor character.

He'd been a writer, before being turned. Nothing published, since editors took one look at him and thought 'bouncer', not 'writer'. Sire turned him for his strength, burning every paper he scribbled on, breaking his fingers when he kept writing. The week it took them to mend properly was the worst torture he'd ever endured, and he did everything he could to avoid that punishment again. He obeyed Sire, followed orders. He could take a beating like a pro, but even Achilles had one little weakness.

"Who do you work for?"

Alfonse wracked his brain for the correct answer. "You."


Title: There Is Nobody Caring
Theme: Hands
Timeline: Bs1, Out of Mind, Out of Sight
Notes: Sorry, I suck at titles. Bit of a minor character.

Bit of water, pinch of dirt. Mud spread over the palm of her hand, accentuating the creases and lines. She’d never been interested in palm reading, but now she wishes she knew what the rolls and dips of her skin said.

Hands twisting under faucet, wash away dirt trapped under her nails.

Cordettes all had perfect manicures, enamel gleaming without chip or dent. Their hands were long and thin, designed for twisting back hair and carrying the latest fashion purse.

Her own were no match beauty-wise, but they wield a baseball bat with lethal force, and that’s enough for revenge.


Title: Enough of the Hyperbole!
Theme: Hands
Timeline: Bs1, The Witch
Mood: Sorry, I suck at titles. Bit of a minor character.

She needs to start exercising again, but every time she plans to drop by the gym, she gets busy doing something else. There’s a candle on the desk, the scent making her nauseous.

Another job interview and it’s going rather well. She got good grades, but she’s severely lacking in extracurricular activities. “This says you tried out for cheerleading as a sophomore, but no clubs or groups.” They’re asking for an explanation, but she has no answers. Psychological traumas tend to scare potential job offers away, and the burns aren’t the best conversation starter. Amber’s hands itch under her gloves.


Title: Frankenstine's Bride
Theme: Hands
Timeline: Bs2, Some Assembly Required
Notes: Another idea that's been festering in the back of my mind. Kinda morbid. Slightly AU.

He's always touching her arm, stroking her hair, rubbing the small of her back. She doesn't remember life before him - fuzzy voices, flashes of color. He calls her beautiful, magnificent, but she doesn't understand these words, doesn't have anything to compare herself to. Neither leave the warehouse during daylight; she never sees anyone else walking around at night. He says it's for her own good; she’d get sad because other people would never understand them.

Their first night, she traced his scars with pink nails, clashing with orange polished toes. His class ring on her finger, she whispered "Forever."


Title: Much Ado About Spike
Theme: Poetry
Timeline: Bs5, Spike's being tortured by Glory
Inspiration: Why, he is the prince's jester: a very dull fool; only his gift is in devising impossible slanders: none but libertines delight in him; and the commrndation is not in his wit, but in his villany; for he both pleases men and angers them, and then they laugh at him and beat him. ~ Much Ado About Nothing, Act 2, Scene 1.

He'd underestimated the pain. He'd gotten weaker, softer on his new diet, and it showed. Decades ago he wouldn't have blinked as sharp fingernails split his flesh, dug past muscles and fouled his insides. Now he screams as she squeezes and scratches, skin staining purple; he wishes it’d hide him like octopus' ink. He screams until his throat is bleeding, but she can't make him answer.

"Who’s the Key?"

"James Van Der Beek." Shiny red lips open and there's a tinkling sound, sweet and light as a stream over rocks. Laughter dances around screams as shiny red nails slice deeper.


Title: Much Ado About Cordelia
Theme: Poetry
Timeline: Bs3, Cordy. Rebar. Hospital. Angst.
Apology: I'm sorry about the pairing, I intended this to be a Cordy-centered rant, and half-way through Harmony kinda appeared and wouldn't go away.
Inspiration: I was born to speak all mirth and no matter. ~ Much Ado About Nothing, Act 2, Scene 3.

Her parents were too busy to visit, but sent yellow roses. Someone'd removed fern and baby's breath while she'd slept, replacing it with Xander's flowers. She couldn't stop staring at the combined bouquet. Flibbertigibbet born and raised, she'd always been surrounded by the popular girls, but since Xander her life had gotten more complex, dangerous. She longed for the carefree girl she'd been.

Footsteps at the door; she turns her head. "Harm?"

"I shouldn’t have come, just wanted to-"

"What? See if impalement speeds weight loss?"

A soft brush of lips against her own. Suddenly her world is more complicated.


Title: It Doesn't Say Spare Me
Theme: Poetry
Timeline: Bs2, "Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered"

"Your unclebrother is a poet." she stroked his hair. "My William will love you, but he'll have to be nice or I shan't let him play." Although... she might need Spike's help. Rhythm and form, meter and rhyme, he’d decades to practice and she knew he'd write poetry that’d make stars weep moonlight tears. All he needed was the right poem; she'd found it in Kitten’s sable eyes and crooked smile. Kitten was still young: the poem's lines untrimmed overflowing tears, the rhythm stumbled over itself, but potential was there. A gash across her breast and she drew him near.


Title: Miscellaneous Thoughts for 200, Alex.
Theme: Transportation
Timeline: *laughs hysterically*

"What's wrong, pet?"


"Nothing, Spike. You'll just laugh."

"Oh, come now, that's not fair. When have I ever laughed at your problems?"

"Well, let's see. There was that time when my pants ripped at work, and when Willow accidently turned me into a girl with cramps, and when the latest demon spat goo on my shirt, and-"

"Alright, fine. Point taken. What's bothering you this time?"

"I was just wondering..."


"How come when a package travels in a ship it's called cargo, and when it's transported in a car it's called a shipment?"



Title: Dealing with Death
Theme: Transportation
Timeline: Cordelia POV, BtVS s1, Prophesy Girl

Kevin is dead. She's seen dead bodies, it's kind of hard not to in this town, but this time it's different. This time it's someone she'd been in love with. She cried in her car for hours, watching the sun set and tucking every memory of him away inside herself, with slow care like someone packing fragile trinkets in a box.

It feels like a blink later, pedal to the floor, wood splintering, tires screeching down hallways. Kevin's out of mind and out of sight, and she's got a library to get to.


Title: Rain of Toads
Theme: Secrets
Timeline: Bs1, "The Harvest"
Inspiration: "This is just too much. I mean, yesterday my life's like, 'Uh- oh, pop quiz.' Today it's 'Rain of Toads'." "I know. And everyone else thinks it's just a normal day." "Nobody knows. It's like we've got this big secret." "We do. That's what a secret is, when you know something other guys don't."

How can everything be so normal? Today, just like yesterday, but completely different. It was like... there was this big click and everything suddenly made sense. Things in her past that she hadn't even noticed now stand out blindingly bright. The scary man with the weird face she'd seen late one night when she was six. Cousin Ashley who disappeared when she was nine, and nobody ever talked about her again. Students and teachers gone missing, empty seats ignored.

Willow scanned her classmates, wondering how many of them suspected. How many didn't have to be told, to know the truth.


Title: I Hear Dead People
Theme: Secrets
Timeline: Bs4, "Hush"

Snickering. "She left."

"It's about time she dumped you. Worthless shit. Not good enough for a demon whore."

"Don't need bitch. Need Mate. Nothing without Master."

"The mutt agrees. You need the vampire to command you, to give you a purpose."

I can do just fine on my own.

Hysterical laughter.

"Look at you. Disgrace. Loser. Lying to your friends. Nobody knows we're still here. Watching every moment, witness to your every mistake. And you make a lot of them."

"Xaaaaaander. Don't you love me anymore?" Spike sings.

"Shut up." Xander knows he won't. None of them ever shut up.


Title: I just thought...
Theme: Secrets
Timeline: Bs6, "Once More With Feeling"

He really hadn't meant any harm, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions. He should've known better - spells always had bad side effects when he was involved. Not to mention, hello, hellmouth. Summoning a demon - not the brightest idea ever. But he'd been filled with curiosity and hope, and hadn't thought about consequences.

Now there are seven bodies in the morgue, and each one is his fault. His spell caused their death. He has to confess, has to take the blame. They'll find out eventually, he can't hide forever.

"If it was in the shop, one of us must have..."

Slowly, Xander raises his hand.


Title: Paralyzed
Theme: Slayers who aren’t Buffy
Timeline: After Willow's slayer spell.

She couldn't feel anything from her neck down. She overheard words -'accident', 'lost control', 'paralyzed'. She'd been driving home when it hit her. Hundreds of memories she'd never experienced, faces she'd didn't recognize downloaded straight into her brain like in the Matrix. While she'd been dazed, the car had drifted into oncoming traffic. She jerked the wheel hard, the car swerving off the road and into a tree. The next thing she knew, she was staring at the cracks on the hospital ceiling.

Someone came in, his face twisted grotesquely. "I've heard Slayer blood is quite tasty." She couldn't move.


Title: Snow Gifts
Theme: Food/Eating
Timeline: AU

"It's snowing!" Xander laughed, tossing a handful of white flakes in the air. They gracefully floated down, catching in Xander's hair.

Spike snorted, kicking at the thin layer of white on the kitchen floor. "At this rate, we'll have a bloody white christmas." The flurry he stirred up landed on Xander's bare feet, and Xander kicked some of the flakes towards Spike in retaliation.

"We should send some of this stuff to Peaches - he's horrified by instant mashed potatoes."

"Nah. It'd get crushed in the mail, turn into white dust."

Spike grinned. "Even better. Poof'd think we sent him Anthrax."


Title: Brooding Resemblance
Theme: Hair
Timeline: As5, Ghosty Spike

Comb and gel, check. Angel’s reflection looks good, better than the gravity-defying style in Pylea. Another perk of the executive suite at Wolfram and Hart - the windows aren't the only specially-treated glass. He rarely goes into the bathroom; the mirror another vice he avoids.

Spike discovered the mirror while he was still incorporeal. He'd spend hours staring deep into his own eyes, as if he could find answers there. Perhaps simply being able to see himself helped prove that he was really there, sight providing proof that his other senses couldn't. Or perhaps he was just checking for roots.


Title: Bedhead Liaisons
Theme: Hair
Timeline: *shrugs* Bs4ish? S/X is together, but are keeping their relationship secret from the scoobies

Xander growled, running the brush through his hair for the fiftieth time. "I think my hair is possessed." Spike snickered, and Xander cast him a quick glare. "S'not funny. All you need is two seconds, a comb, and some gel, and you're fine. I need an hour and a few sacrifices to a benevolent deity in order to tame this." He sighed at his reflection. "Do you think I could get away with claiming it's naptime bedhead?"

"Not bloody likely. It's obviously I've-just-been-shagged-within-an-inch-of-my-life hair."

"Scooby meeting in less than an hour, and totally-your-fault hair. Help, please?"

Spike pondered. "Shower?"


Title: Security Blankets
Theme: Lost
Timeline: Referances to Bs1 "Never Kill a Boy on the First Date" and Bs4 "The Freshman". So after that, some time ^_~

Under her bed, wrapped in her old baby blanket is a named stake and two books: "The Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson" and "Of Human Bondage". She never returned Emily before graduation, and afterwards there wasn't a point. She likes the poetry, and sometimes it even makes sense to her. She hasn't gotten around to reading the other book; every time she tries, she stops at the hand-written dedication on the first page in purple pen: "To Endymion, Love, Samantha."

She doesn't know what killed Owen; one day he just disappeared. Owen, Kendra, and Eddie. Three people she didn't save.


Title: Riches to Rags
Theme: Lost
Timeline: After Bs3, Cordy thinks about her father losing all his money.

"People will be attracted to my positive energy." What a crock. The day Father told her that he'd lost the money, lost everything, all of her positive energy went zap - out the window. It's kinda funny if you think about it, and she's had plenty of time to think about it. 'Lost' really isn't a good term to use. People say they lost money, lost loved ones, but those things aren't really lost. Lost implies 'misplaced', and she's never heard of anyone finding money or dead people. Well, except for Buffy, who has a knack for finding dead people.


Title: Time and Place
Theme: Lost
Timeline: Bs3. Anya doesn't give up easily. "Eryishon brings it forth from the time and place it was lost."

Yeah, Willow was a pretty powerful Wicca, but Willow had a pesky do-gooder attitude that Aphrodesia had failed to mention. After the utter disappointment with Willow, she'd been tempted to drown her sorrows in alcohol, but Anyanka was never one to give up easily. If you don't succeed, try again. She’d find it; she needed that necklace. One little teensy temporal fold, and it wouldn't be lost anymore. "Hey, Michael."

The goth kid closed his locker and turned to look at her. "Yeah?"

"I'm Anya, and I've got a spell I need a little help with. You up for it?"


Title: Little blue strip
Theme: Unexpected
Timeline: Buffy stops Acathla, leaves town.

Vampires are dead, just corpses animated by demons. They couldn't catch a disease or have a child or get sick or get a pimple like living, breathing humans did. So this outcome wasn't just unexpected, it was frickin' impossible.

But then again, she was the first Slayer to ever sleep with a vampire. Maybe there was some mystical mojo that clashed or something. And who knew how the soul messed up the equation.

Four months after she left Sunnydale and wearing a dress that had been way too big last summer, a pregnant Slayer returned to her watcher for answers.


Title: Tootsie Roll Pop
Theme: One Hundred
Author's Notes: How many licks does it take?

He starts with a swipe down Xander's neck. One. Along the collarbone. Two. Swirl around the Adam's apple. Three. Down the chest to Xander's left nipple. Four. Swirl again. Five.

By the time he reaches Xander's cock he's already on seventy-eight. Gotta concentrate; he's set a limit for himself.

Running his tongue from root to tip makes eighty-two. Eighty-seven is a stroke against the perineum. Ninety-five: he’s swirling around the tip. One hundred, and Xander comes with a cry.

When Xander can think again, "One hundred licks. I'm impressed."

"Nummy treat indeed." Spike replies. "Better than a tootsie roll pop."


Title: 14 Weeks and 2 Days
Theme: One Hundred
Author's Notes: Based vaguely on Chris Cagle's song "What A Beautiful Day".

Day one. Usual patrol, except different. Accidental brush of hands, gazes held a moment too long. They clean each other’s wounds and fall asleep on Xander’s couch.

By day fifteen the denial and tension is long gone, and they give in. Lingering touches, hesitant kisses, sparks igniting a fire.

On day thirty-six, 'whelp' is now 'gorgeous git', and 'fangless' has morphed into 'beautiful bastard'.

Day sixty-eight, and they can't imagine living without each other.

One hundred days, and they're both amazed at how few days it has been when it feels like they’ve been in love with each other forever.


Title: Photo Albums
Theme: One Hundred
Author's Notes: I kept thinking of Rowan's
Girl On Film, even though this isn't really based on the same idea.

Spike watches the Polaroid develop, foggy shapes condensing into shaggy brown hair, a crooked smile. He has exactly one hundred pictures of Xander now, but that's not nearly enough. He slips it in the plastic slot, one more for his collection. A few photographs are of Xander in the sun (a gift from Willow), and several are of Xander nude from one of their kinky nights.

He has three photograph binders, black ones that lock and don't let dust or light inside. He fills them up and hoards them away for later.

He’ll use them to remember, after Xander dies.


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