TITLE- Wreak Havoc
AUTHOR- Buffitude
DISCLAIMER- oh for godsake,we all know the drill...Joss owns them...except for the ones he doesn't.
RATING- R, Just in case, not wanting to offend anyones sensibilities.
PAIRING- B/S eventually....
SUMMARY- SEQUEL to Cry "Havoc", sort of a prerequisite read ...and we all know..."reading, it makes the speaking the English good"
FEEDBACK-absolutely!
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The moon rose above the oceans' horizon looking as if it would take up the entire sky with its girth. It's silvery sheen lighting the night, casting white illumination upon all objects in it's domain. The woman stood at the cliffs' edge, the breeze off the ocean whipping her shoulder-length hair around her face. She inhailed deeply, enjoying the night and the salt spray that reached her from the surfs' violent crashing into the cliff. She wrapped her arms tightly around her slightly chilled body.
Over the booming of the waves' unending battle with the stoney cliffs, the sound of singing comes to her ears. Turning , she spies a tall, willowy feminine figure swaying and dancing to the tune spilling from her lips. A faint smile comes to her lips as she watches the dancing woman twirl gracefully, her arms weaving a story in the air above her head.
It was good to see her enjoying the night, Buffy mused, Drusilla had had precious little enjoyment in her unlife of late. It had taken months before she'd allowed the Slayer near her. But Buffy was nothing if not persistant. She had time.....
Buffy shook herself loose from the memories of the time she had taken in this land far from Sunnydale, trying to keep them from crashing in on her , like the waves upon the cliffs.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
She arrived late afternoon at Angels' small villa estate. He had offered to arrange for it to be opened, but she opted to do it herself. She had time on her hands, and wasn't afraid of a little dirt.
A lot of dirt, she decided as she pushed open the ornate door to the house and got her first look inside. There were sheets covering the furnishings but the windows were so begrimed with years of dirt the afternoon sunlight barely filtered in.
Buffy stood in the entry hall, hands on hips. OK, the bedroom first, she decided. She stooped and snatched up her bags, striding toward the staircase. She hesitated, looking up it's wending length. Well, at least she could get the bedroom cleaned up before the movers arrived tomorrow with the rest of her belongings.
She ascended the staircase with her carryalls, as she got to the top landing, her boot-clad foot stepped down on something not floor. She lifted her foot and toed the object. It was a doll. The porcelain head webbed with cracks, it's dark hair in sausage curls. The deep burgandy of it's dress faded with age. The painted face chipped and worn. Great. Angel never mentioned that Drusilla had been here before.
Buffy picked up the porcelain doll, tucking it under her arm, continuing on to a room. She opened the door and walked in. It was spacious with tall ceilings and a huge, ornate wooden four-poster bed.
The bedchambers' ceiling was decorated with a fresco. The painting held demons that were busy violating and terrorizing innocents. The art was eerily beautiful, disturbing subject matter aside. She went to the bed and lay on it, sighing. Well, what did she expect to be over the bed...mirrors?? She smirked at that thought, then mentally slapped herself for issuing it forth. Let's not go there, Buffy.
She sat up, dangling her legs over the edge of the bed. The inlaid tile of the floor was aswirl with odd geometric shapes that were most likely magical symbols. She almost recognized some of them. Looking around the room, surveying the artistic nature of the decor she frowned, Angelus probably ate the architect after the house was finished.
Well, the balcony was a nice addition. It sure beat crawling through her window at home....no, this was home. Dawn and Oz lived at the house in Sunnydale, now. She stood and walked to the double doors, pulling them open. She drew a deep breath of the falling twilights' air, unfamiliar scents assailed her nostrils. Far from Sunnydale, here, she shook her head. Leaving the doors open for the fresh air, she walked back into the room glancing at the furnishings. Tasteful furnishings...of course, Angelus. He could be such a fixated bastard but he always had good taste, she remembered darkly.
She moved her bags onto the fainting couch at the end of the bed, reaching to twist her hair into a ponytail. She'd have this room cleaned in no time.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Buffy was exhausted. She had cleaned her bedroom thoroughly and moved her efforts to the downstairs sitting room and kitchen. Where she now sat at the small wooden table eating the last of the bread and cheese she'd brought with her from Rome. There would be time enough tomorrow to go to the small village for supplies. It was within a few miles from the villa, a nice walking distance. Maybe she could get a bicycle. There were very few in Rome when she had arrived there. When she'd asked about it, she'd been told no one rode them much due to the chance that drivers would run over them.
Rome was chaotic, crowded and noisy. But she had thought all the fountains and cathedrals were ..really pretty. She had really liked the open air market in the Campo de Fiori. Buffy shuddered involuntarily at the memory of the statue dedicated to a philosopher...Giordy...Georgy? Oh , that Bruno guy. He evidently crossed the wrong people with his belief that God was present in nature and that the universe was infinite. The Church of that time burned him at the stake right on the very spot where the statue stood...they sounded like the Watchers Council.
She sighed and stretched. At least she had a clean bed to be in, she hoped she'd be dreamless in this place. She wasn't ready to face her memories. As long as she kept her hands and body busy, she'd not been plagued with them, but when she slept....
Maelyn comes to her. They have long visits in her dreams. Maelyn always told her how Dawn and Oz were doing with the new baby, and about Spike. It was painful, and she always awoke feeling alone. Alone, and in the dark. Where he always said she belonged, with him. Had he been there with her, Buffy knew she would have been happy this time.
Great, Buffy. This is not the way to get to sleep. Sighing, she let herself out the kitchen door going to the little grotto in the back of the house. The sculpture garden was disturbing with it's gothic stylings of gargoyles and dragons. Of course, it would have appealed to vampires. It was probably considered "high art" , like that David statue by Michaelangelo, she snorted in amusement.
Sitting on the marble bench , she looked up at the wide expanse of sky and stars. It really was peaceful here, no hellmouth, no nightly slayage. No.....uhoh....why was her Slayer senses telling her there was a vampire watching her?
AUTHOR- Buffitude
DISCLAIMER- oh for godsake,we all know the drill...Joss owns them...except for the ones he doesn't.
RATING- R, Just in case, not wanting to offend anyones sensibilities.
PAIRING- B/S eventually....
SUMMARY- SEQUEL to Cry "Havoc", sort of a prerequisite read ...and we all know..."reading, it makes the speaking the English good"
FEEDBACK-absolutely!
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The moon rose above the oceans' horizon looking as if it would take up the entire sky with its girth. It's silvery sheen lighting the night, casting white illumination upon all objects in it's domain. The woman stood at the cliffs' edge, the breeze off the ocean whipping her shoulder-length hair around her face. She inhailed deeply, enjoying the night and the salt spray that reached her from the surfs' violent crashing into the cliff. She wrapped her arms tightly around her slightly chilled body.
Over the booming of the waves' unending battle with the stoney cliffs, the sound of singing comes to her ears. Turning , she spies a tall, willowy feminine figure swaying and dancing to the tune spilling from her lips. A faint smile comes to her lips as she watches the dancing woman twirl gracefully, her arms weaving a story in the air above her head.
It was good to see her enjoying the night, Buffy mused, Drusilla had had precious little enjoyment in her unlife of late. It had taken months before she'd allowed the Slayer near her. But Buffy was nothing if not persistant. She had time.....
Buffy shook herself loose from the memories of the time she had taken in this land far from Sunnydale, trying to keep them from crashing in on her , like the waves upon the cliffs.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
She arrived late afternoon at Angels' small villa estate. He had offered to arrange for it to be opened, but she opted to do it herself. She had time on her hands, and wasn't afraid of a little dirt.
A lot of dirt, she decided as she pushed open the ornate door to the house and got her first look inside. There were sheets covering the furnishings but the windows were so begrimed with years of dirt the afternoon sunlight barely filtered in.
Buffy stood in the entry hall, hands on hips. OK, the bedroom first, she decided. She stooped and snatched up her bags, striding toward the staircase. She hesitated, looking up it's wending length. Well, at least she could get the bedroom cleaned up before the movers arrived tomorrow with the rest of her belongings.
She ascended the staircase with her carryalls, as she got to the top landing, her boot-clad foot stepped down on something not floor. She lifted her foot and toed the object. It was a doll. The porcelain head webbed with cracks, it's dark hair in sausage curls. The deep burgandy of it's dress faded with age. The painted face chipped and worn. Great. Angel never mentioned that Drusilla had been here before.
Buffy picked up the porcelain doll, tucking it under her arm, continuing on to a room. She opened the door and walked in. It was spacious with tall ceilings and a huge, ornate wooden four-poster bed.
The bedchambers' ceiling was decorated with a fresco. The painting held demons that were busy violating and terrorizing innocents. The art was eerily beautiful, disturbing subject matter aside. She went to the bed and lay on it, sighing. Well, what did she expect to be over the bed...mirrors?? She smirked at that thought, then mentally slapped herself for issuing it forth. Let's not go there, Buffy.
She sat up, dangling her legs over the edge of the bed. The inlaid tile of the floor was aswirl with odd geometric shapes that were most likely magical symbols. She almost recognized some of them. Looking around the room, surveying the artistic nature of the decor she frowned, Angelus probably ate the architect after the house was finished.
Well, the balcony was a nice addition. It sure beat crawling through her window at home....no, this was home. Dawn and Oz lived at the house in Sunnydale, now. She stood and walked to the double doors, pulling them open. She drew a deep breath of the falling twilights' air, unfamiliar scents assailed her nostrils. Far from Sunnydale, here, she shook her head. Leaving the doors open for the fresh air, she walked back into the room glancing at the furnishings. Tasteful furnishings...of course, Angelus. He could be such a fixated bastard but he always had good taste, she remembered darkly.
She moved her bags onto the fainting couch at the end of the bed, reaching to twist her hair into a ponytail. She'd have this room cleaned in no time.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Buffy was exhausted. She had cleaned her bedroom thoroughly and moved her efforts to the downstairs sitting room and kitchen. Where she now sat at the small wooden table eating the last of the bread and cheese she'd brought with her from Rome. There would be time enough tomorrow to go to the small village for supplies. It was within a few miles from the villa, a nice walking distance. Maybe she could get a bicycle. There were very few in Rome when she had arrived there. When she'd asked about it, she'd been told no one rode them much due to the chance that drivers would run over them.
Rome was chaotic, crowded and noisy. But she had thought all the fountains and cathedrals were ..really pretty. She had really liked the open air market in the Campo de Fiori. Buffy shuddered involuntarily at the memory of the statue dedicated to a philosopher...Giordy...Georgy? Oh , that Bruno guy. He evidently crossed the wrong people with his belief that God was present in nature and that the universe was infinite. The Church of that time burned him at the stake right on the very spot where the statue stood...they sounded like the Watchers Council.
She sighed and stretched. At least she had a clean bed to be in, she hoped she'd be dreamless in this place. She wasn't ready to face her memories. As long as she kept her hands and body busy, she'd not been plagued with them, but when she slept....
Maelyn comes to her. They have long visits in her dreams. Maelyn always told her how Dawn and Oz were doing with the new baby, and about Spike. It was painful, and she always awoke feeling alone. Alone, and in the dark. Where he always said she belonged, with him. Had he been there with her, Buffy knew she would have been happy this time.
Great, Buffy. This is not the way to get to sleep. Sighing, she let herself out the kitchen door going to the little grotto in the back of the house. The sculpture garden was disturbing with it's gothic stylings of gargoyles and dragons. Of course, it would have appealed to vampires. It was probably considered "high art" , like that David statue by Michaelangelo, she snorted in amusement.
Sitting on the marble bench , she looked up at the wide expanse of sky and stars. It really was peaceful here, no hellmouth, no nightly slayage. No.....uhoh....why was her Slayer senses telling her there was a vampire watching her?