quinara: Buffy's sad-looking profile from Villains. (Buffy profile)
[personal profile] quinara
I am sorry for the spam that is about to begin... But I have a thing about not wanting to group too many fics together in a single entry, especially if they're reasonably long or different in tone. These two at least I can group together, because they're both responses to Spike fics which had me (of course!) create Buffy's companion POV, in both cases a few episodes after the original fic.

The first takes [personal profile] bruttimabuoni's Rosetta, which is a S5 Spike POV minific BMB wrote for [community profile] sb_fag_ends using the Rosetta Stone for a great discussion of interpretation and reading-as-understanding. It was set just after I Was Made To Love you, so I chucked my (168 words, G, AO3 warning free) Buffy POV fic just after Intervention:

Transcription (Demotic Tongue Remix).

Sometimes Buffy thinks Spike needs a way to her. He’s killed so many people, done so many things, but there are times when she can see his eyes are changing. Like now they’re rimmed with bruises, and she thinks he understands.

He tears her world apart sometimes, when he looks at her with the question why, why’s that wrong? and makes her explain, to him and to herself. With him she’s more self-righteous than she’s ever been, but she’s more consistent too. She’s better.

And so sometimes she drops explanations into her speech like footnotes, more than she ever used in college, like translating glosses helping him to read along.

What you did, for me, and Dawn – that was real.

He plucks the comments from the air, turns them over, builds a path towards her out of matchsticks, every inch a stretch towards comprehension. A step away from killing.

There’s a path of words that grows between them. Sometimes she thinks that she’ll be waiting at the end.


The second was a response to [personal profile] ruuger's Through the Looking Glass, which is a missing scene from Beneath You and really gets into Spike's mind at the time as well as the whole performance aspect of Spike's Big Bad persona. I chucked Buffy at the same concept during Selfless (545 words, G, AO3 warning free):

Image Object (Angles of Refraction Mix).

There’s a mirror in the basement. Every time Buffy looks for Spike it’s what she finds instead, at first: the long slim stretch of glass reflecting dust, old books and stacks of shelves. (For a school that was built brand new, there’s a hell of a lot of old one still taking up space.)

Something about the way the mirror angles is strange, so it always seems to turn Buffy’s steps in the direction opposite where she means to walk – she blames it for confusing her route, because the paths can’t really change, but she knows she should pay less attention to her feet. And worry less that she’s come down to talk to him again.

When she’s far enough away, or sometimes not so far, it shows her face, and it’s never the face that Buffy means to show that day.

The Monday when Willow goes back to college, she comes up to the mirror yet again. The Buffy there inside is smiling, not really with her mouth (for Buffy’s lips are straight) but with her eyes and air; she’s dressed entirely in black, but still exudes kindness and understanding. Far too much.

“You think you’ve closed your heart to him,” she almost hears her image say, can almost see it form the words. “But really you’re nothing but a weak girl, softened by sympathy for a monster who did you wrong. A victim. Pathetic.”

Shivering with the fear of it, Buffy comes closer – the image won’t change. Closer still, and the softer she becomes, even as she scrutinises smudges in her make-up.

Eventually she’s kneeling in the dust, staring in. With two fingers she’s tracing the planes of her face, the frail curves of her chin and cheek, the gentle flow of hair around her face, and finds herself transfixed by the shining weakness of her eyes. She can remember how she felt, how she must have looked, when she found Spike for the first time. The shock of it brought tears to her eyes, froze her silent and confused and weak, only to be roused back to her senses when the ruder him re-emerged. No soul could bury that.

Her softer self is locked inside of her; she remembers locking it away. She cannot look like this. “It’s not true,” she whispers, covering the subtle O her lips form in the image. I’m in control of me. And yet her eyes continue to glisten, staring back at her.

Carefully Buffy raises a hand to her hair, pulling it back off her face and tying it away. Better, but still too soft; still too soft. It’s not enough, so then she takes the lock that dares to break the line between her forehead and her ear and starts to plait it, stretching out the curl to cut away from her.

As her fingers work the strands, she can see her eyes grow harder, settling slowly into a glare. It’s comforting. The softness leaves with every flick of her fingers, but she can’t take risks, not with Spike, not with herself, so as she plaits and tucks the hair away she goes beyond how she thought she looked to something else. Something more. Resolute, she recalls her ire and breathes it with every breath.


(no subject)

Date: 08/05/2011 18:11 (UTC)
rahirah: (Default)
From: [personal profile] rahirah
Sometimes it's like Buffy suffers from a sort of emotional image dysphoria...


quinara: Sheep on a hillside with a smiley face. (Default)

December 2015

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