initiative meetings

[madimpossibledreamer]

You know what else is suuuuuper old?  This.  It's actually part of Torchwood: Aftershock (you know, that thing I uploaded like a million years ago and you haven't seen since?) and, well.  There's also a Choose Your Own Adventure.  You heard me correctly.  It's unfinished.  It's also a different take on YAHF in the Buffy fandom, which is why I started it, but...CYOAs are a lot of work, tbh.
I'll probably waffle on what I should post of that (or the Torchwood: Aftershock stuff) for ages (I hate leaving things unfinished but it's also been a few times since I've had inspiration to write for it), but this two-parter can stand on its own and therefore I can stop feeling weird about it just sitting in my docs.  So there.
...I'm feeling a little down about the lack of Shadowed Suspicion reads, but then again, school's started and maybe people lost interest after such a long hiatus (or are at least waiting for the volume to end).  I'm still going strong on the next fight, even though it's been so long I forgot stuff and had to revise on reread (seriously, I forgot about the dragon statue. somehow.), but it's shaping up to be a monster, quite literally.  I'm also feeling upset because a good friend's behaving like a jerk, and both she and my dad are not only showing a dislike of anime (even though he likes Ghost in the Shell, what the blank) but also acting judgey for me liking it, which.
Man, the quicker I can get out of this job and house, the better.  Job hunting is a lot harder than I expected.
Anyway, these all contribute to issues writing.  I'll put aside my rant for now and let you get to the fic.
~Dreamer~

Main Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU (Torchwood: Aftershock)
Summary: Spike has an unexpected cellmate.
Word Count: 680
Rating: Teen (there are makeouts; it's Captain Xan)
Spike/Xander

         Spike snarled, having been thrown in a darkened room by those stupid soldier gits.  Oddly enough, there was a familiar scent in the place.  His demon eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness and... "Bloody 'ell.  Why've they got you locked up 'ere, Whelp?"
         The man looked up from where he was leaning heavily against the wall and smiled tiredly.  Something weird about this one, but then, any situation that involved the least dangerous of the Goofy Gang locked up by the Initiative was weird to begin with.  The eyes were old.  Far too old.  Tired, no, exhausted, and darker than he'd ever seen them.  The shirt-white, not an eyesore like most of the shirts-was in tatters.  Not jeans, fancy trousers.  What might have been the remnants of suspenders, but it was hard to tell anymore.  He could smell week-old blood stains on it.  Still, there was a slight glint of hope, innocence, good humor, that characterized the Xander he'd come to know.  A slight grin grew on the face, but it was wrong.  It wasn't a mocking or scared grin.  There was a bit of fear in the scent, but excitement won out.  It was amused, good-natured, aroused even, which was so wildly different from the Slayer's pet...they couldn't be the same person.  "So, they got you too.  I won't say it's not good to see you, John, although I did take a bit of an exception to the last time we met."  At the vampire's confused reaction, he added, "...the part where you tried to kill me."
         "'m not John," he mumbled, taken aback.  He could be all terrifying and everything, but this was just strange enough he didn't know how to deal with it.
         The man frowned, and Spike felt a thrill of pain tingle down his spine-not agony, like all the other times, but the disappointment physically hurt.  Bloody ‘ell.
         Then the stranger was crossing the room, and he expected a punch.  Anything but what happened.
         The man grabbed his clothes, curling what was left of his maroon shirt (they'd taken his duster, and they swore up and down that he was the evil one) into his sure hands, and practically slammed him against the wall.
         Then was snogging him passionately, pressing up against him greedily.  Dazed, Spike could barely react.  It was practically a physical assault.  He'd never even remotely expected a human this demanding; thought only demons could be this possessive, but...
         There was a slight gentleness there too.  The pain wasn't there to hurt.  It was because this human couldn't wait a second more to devour him, greedily pulling away to caress with an obscenely hot tongue his neck and collarbone.  It felt like he was going to explode, just one minute there's a vampire and the next there's bits of him lying all over the room.  His mind was on fire, stars flashing all over the place.
         There was a scent, a scent that put his brain on fire because it was just so nummy.  Spice and old magic, books and stars and just a hint of sweetness.
         "Bloody 'ell, just..."  He, a Master Vampire, the Big Bad, was about to beg this human for something-anything, he had no idea what, he wanted it all.
         And then the soldiers burst into the room, angry that apparently whatever they'd wanted to happen...hadn't.
         "Take Hostile 48!" one of them yelled, and then, as the bloke spun to face them...they shot him.  He fell with a short cry.  The vampire could tell that he was dead before he'd hit the ground.
         He roared and went into Game Face.  He didn't even care that he was acting to protect a human he'd only met three minutes ago.  Bloke was one of the best kissers he'd ever met, and he'd be twice damned if he'd just let that sort of resource go to waste.
         He howled, dropping to his knees, the agony rattling his very bones.  One of the soldiers smirked, and then they took turns kicking his poor, defenseless body.  He was pretty sure he blacked out.