Just another night in Sunnyhell

Title: Just another night in Sunnyhell
Author: Dea Brynhild Ensomhet
Pairing: Um... *shrug* It's up for interpretations.
Rating: Just another night in Sunnydale, and Giles is faced with a near-impossible task.
Email: BrynSpikess@hotmail.com
Spoilers: None really... It's a little crazy fic, that doesn't really take place at any specific point in the timeline.
Archival: Just ask and ye shall recieve.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and a whole bunch of other ppl owns. I don't. I just like to dream.
Author's Notes: I was up late one night reading Willow fanfic. Fell asleep. Dreamt. I have no idea where my subconscious got this idea. This was the first BtVS fic I ever wrote.
Written: 9/28/02


Giles sighed. As he continued to let his gaze pour over the various columns and ciphers, the sheer amount of possible futures almost overwhelming him. He could avert Apocalypses, he could handle rowdy slayers, he could even cook a mean pot roast, but this... He took a moment to glance at his dark companion, the tension rolling off him in waves an obvious sign that he was having no luck either.

Angel sighed. He was sitting across from Giles at the tiny table, his eyes roaming over a copy of the text Giles was studying. There were even a few pictures, but nothing he really recognized. He frowned, as another word escaped him. "Hey Giles? What does this mean?" He pointed to the strange word.

"Flambé." Giles replied, glancing through the context. "It means the victim is drenched with a liquor and then set on fire."

Angel shuddered. Some people thought draining human's blood was a strange cuisine, but this... he shook his head, trying to rid himself of the mental images of these creatures' peculiar eating habits. Both men returned to their silent ponderings of the manuscript, but were soon interrupted by a loud bang. They both glanced up towards the entrance to see the doors swing wildly closed from their collision with the walls, and the frantic red-head hurrying towards them.

Angel's face creased slightly with worry, his acute senses picking up the frenzied beating of her heart as she raced to the table and sat down beside Giles. She was breathing quickly, her face was flushed, and... Angel bit back a groan as her scent wafted over him... she was incredibly aroused. Instantly he was glad he was in a sitting position with the table hiding any embarrassing evidence. "I am SO sorry I'm late." Willow exclaimed, as a tall blond man strolled in the room after her, his black leather duster furling behind him.

"Not to worry, pet. I told you they wouldn't start the fun without us." Spike grinned before taking the seat beside Angel and snatching the text out of his hands. Angel growled slightly at his childe's impertinence but didn't retaliate.

Willow giggled at the vampires before turning to Giles. She glanced from the small restaurant's lamented menu to the harrowed expression on the watcher's face. "Can't decide what you want to eat?" she asked.

Giles spared her a look before returning to the cuisine menu in his hands. "Well, the smoked salmon looks good, but then there's the spinage-stuffed ravioli, and the water-chestnut salad..." he sighed again. "Decisions, decisions..."


Clock ticks five am. Go downstairs. Flip up the switch. Bryn winced at the sudden bright light and rolled her neck in an effort to wake up. Yawning, she plopped down in front of the computer and began clicking.

Fifteen minutes later, she was staring at the screen, scanning the text over and over hoping inspiration would strike. "Dang it!" she exclaimed, letting her forehead drop to rest in her palm. The little ficlet had been so easy to write... she'd dreamt it, remembered the dream, and jotted it down. But now the muses had decided that they wanted a sequel, and she was facing a huge brick wall called writer's block. Muses were so annoying sometimes... and there was a foreboding feeling forming in the pit of her stomach. She knew that if she wrote a sequel, that the muses would demand a triquel, and then try to get a series out of her, but she also knew that they would torment her with ideas for the next few weeks unless she surrendered and wrote a sequel.

As she tried to create options to decide from, there was a soft knock on the door. "Come in." she called, not moving. After all, it wasn't like she lived on the Hellmouth, where one had to be careful what they invited into their own homes.

"'ello, luv." A spark of shock ran through her as the British accented voice caressed her eardrums. She glanced up in time to see the bleached-blond vampire stroll in the door towards her, his black leather duster furling behind him. Before she could collect her wits enough to say anything, he was lounging in a chair beside her, a cigarette already lit and smoking.

"Um, hi Spike." Bryn replied, blushing slightly as she tried to control her heartbeat. Damn, he had beautiful cheekbones, and the scar above his eye was even sexier than she remembered. "Erm... What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to inspire you, pet." he said, his gaze flickering to the short fanfic on the computer screen before returning to her. "And you must be writing on low fumes... you wrote my entrance here almost exactly the same as you did in 'Just another night in Sunnyhell' part one." He indicated the scene in the text onscreen. "Granted, my hair and my duster are important features, but surely you can write a creative entrance without sounding like all my other entrances."

Bryn snickered as a thought hit her. "Maybe I should have written you as running over my mailbox with your DeSota before you came in." The look in his eye quickly quenched the giggle. "You didn't!" At his nod, she sighed. Her poor mailbox...

Spike stretched his back, oddly reminiscent of a cat. Bryn smiled at the thought of a blond cat wandering around with a black leather collar, harmless-looking but vicious as Monty Python's fluffy rabbit with 'big sharp pointy teeth'. Cats already had the fangs... that reminded her, she had been thinking of writing some kind of story once where there was a vampire cat, or a vampire who could turn into a cat, and the sunlight didn't bother it, but the holy water hurts worse, since cats hate water...

Spike snapped his fingers and she came back to reality... or as much reality as this fanfic offers. "You're going off in tangents, luv." he scolded, smirking. "If you want to get another fic written, you have to pay attention."

"Fine, Spike." she rolled her eyes. Surely her tangents weren't that bad... she just got carried away sometimes...

"So." he murmured, quickly reading the screen again. "You've set the scene, they're in the restaurant. What ideas do you have about continuing it?"

Bryn shrugged. "In the beginning of the story everybody assumes that Giles and Angel are in the library researching some prophesy, but in the end the audience is fooled and they're really at a restaurant!" At his lack of comment, she sighed. "Well, I never said it was a genius plot-idea." She retrieved an small dish from the computer desk and handed it to the vampire, who obliged and tapped his fag ashes into it.

"Tricking the audience only goes so far." Spike commented, taking another drag on his fag.

"Yeah, now they're expecting it." she agreed, then paused to think for a moment. "Perhaps I could write each story differently. In the first one, I used the reader's assumptions to trick them. In the next story I could do it all from first person point-of-view. Another story could be written using as few words as possible to describe the scenery, and the next could use some other way of writing..." Bryn grinned as a brick or two cracked and disintegrated in the imaginary Writer's Block wall.

He nodded, apparently amiable to the conceivable story layout. "And you have to explain what they're doing together in a restaurant, and why the Poof is lusting after my Red."

Bryn nibbled on her bottom lip. "Well, I had been thinking that it was a double date, but I wasn't sure how to pair up the characters."

"Me and the witch, obviously." Spike replied, then paused. "But that leaves..." the rest of the sentence was lost as the near two-century demon bent over laughing.

"Angel and Giles." she finished for him. "An unlikely pair, thought I did see it in a fic once."

He continued to talk through the laughter. "Well, if you've seen it in a fic before, then by all means try writing it."

One eyebrow lifted. "Just because somebody else has had the balls to try writing it doesn't mean it's a place that should be explored... I once read a fic where Angel was making out with Snyder." Bryn shuddered. "Some things are just... wrong."

Spike sobered up instantly at that possible 'ship. "You're right, not even my bloody poof of a sire deserves to be paired up with that cockroach."

"Not to mention Jenny's death will probably always hang between them."

"If you're writing after the second season." he pointed out. "You haven't said when the fic is happening in the timeline."

"Still, sometime after when you got your chip but before you fell for Buffy would probably be the best chance of getting the four of you together in one room without worrying about you being evil and killing them all."

"But I like being evil!" Spike pouted.

Bryn grinned. "And most of the female populous, myself included, like you being evil too. It's just not a good thing when all the characters in a fic die in the beginning of the story. It's incredibly hard to write without characters. And an alternate universe would be hard too, better to try to stick with as much of the canon universe as possible."

"You still have to figure out how you got the poof from L.A."

Bryn nodded. "I'll figure that obstacle out when I get to it.

"You/Angel and Willow/Giles is a more common pairing, though still noncanon. I just don't know if I can bear to pair Willow up with Giles. Sure, Anthony Stewart Head is hot, but there's still that huge age gap... and the tweed issue. Maybe with Ripper..." she sighed again. "I just don't know."

"Peaches seemed to be getting pretty friendly with Red." Spike offered.

Another nod. "Angel/Willow is also a common noncanon, and would be interesting to write." She started giggling. "Of course, that leaves you and Giles." The cigg fell out of Spike's mouth, and Bryn had to do a dive with the ashtray to catch it in mid-air.

"Bloody hell."

"I don't see why you're so shocked... it's logical in a fanfic writer's mind to pair up the two Brits."

"Bollocks. Promise me you aren't going to try that... it's almost as bad as pairing me up with that Xapper wanker. You even consider paring me up with the Watcher, and I'll cheerfully tear out your internal organs in alphabetical order." When she didn't promise he started to get nervous.

Bryn just giggled, enjoying the rush of power that came with the feeling of making the big bad vampire sweat. Figuratively, of course... vampires don't really sweat... they don't have any bodily functions... except they can cry, but it's tears of blood... perhaps a vampire can sweat blood... ewww...

When she looked at him again, he had turned up the charm. "Please, luv, don't pair me up with the Watcher." Stronger women than she hadn't been able to resist Spike's forlorn look, and Bryn was instantly turned into pudding. Figuratively, of course, because if Spike could do that for real than he'd probably try to turn people into blood instead of pudding; well, more like big blobs of blood since people already have blood, but the chip probably wouldn't go off if he started sucking on a big blob of blood... erm.... back to the fic...

"Alright, I won't write a Spike/Giles pairing." The vampire in question sighed in relief as he lit up again.

"As much as I hate to admit it," he thought aloud, "perhaps it's not a double date. Maybe it's a triad date." At her inquisitive glance he elaborated, "Me/Peaches/Red with the Watcher as a chaperone."

Bryn snickered again. "Or maybe it's you/Angel/Giles menage-a-trois, and Willow is the chaperone."

Spike growled his displeasure over the idea, and then looked her over from head to toe in amusement. "You know, for an eighteen year old virgin female, you've got a kinky mind."

Bryn just shrugged. "Hey, it's a life. Who needs reality when you can read and write about it online? Although I doubt I would be any good at writing an all male threesome graphic sex scene, I'm dirty enough to comprehend such a thing."

He chuckles, "Dirty enough and yet still so naive that things still pass over your head."

"Balance is the key."

"I'll try to remember that. And don't you dare mention a foursome orgy... let's just stick to the double-date idea, okay?"

Bryn grinned. "Deal."

"Have you decided which couple set you're going to write?" Spike asked, standing and brushing off his duster.

Bryn began to type quickly. "I'm not sure, but I think so. Just have to sort out a few ideas, but our little chat really broke down my writer's block. The muses should start flowing again soon." she smiled. "Thank you, Spike."

The cocky British vampire returned her smile. "Any time, pet." He winked before vanishing into the night.

The smile quickly turning into a happy grin, Bryn's fingers flew over the keyboard, creating a symphony with the clicking of keys. Upon the screen a new page appeared and the following words scrolled across as she typed:

"It was a dark and stormy night..."


I know, I'm certifiably crazy, but I figured that was as good a place as any to end it. My subconscious is a dark and dank place. Fictional characters and strange plot bunnies thrive there...

~*~ Brynhild


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