Shadows
folder
AtS/BtVS Crossovers › FemmeSlash - Female/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,719
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
AtS/BtVS Crossovers › FemmeSlash - Female/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,719
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter One: Under Pressure
Disclaimer: See Prelude and I do not own Queen and David Bowie’s “Under Pressure” nor R.E.M.’s “Belong”
Author’s Notes: Jumpin’ ahead to 1998.
Feedback: Same holds for flames, though I am thinking of other vengeance methods, suggestions welcome. Once again, those that are civil, are my friend.
On with the tale…
Shadows
The Alternate Tale of Three Witches
Chapter One: Under Pressure
August 9, 1998
“Pressure pushing down on me, pressing down on you, no man asks for. Under pressure, that burns a building down, splits a family in two…” A beautiful, melodic voice drifted out of the open window. Inside, a curvaceous blonde laid back on her bed, singing perfectly to the wisdom that is/was/forever will be Freddie Mercury.
“It's the terror of knowing what this world is about, watching some good friends screaming let me out!”
She quieted down whilst the music kept playing. Her body prone as she stared at the ceiling. Silent tears of anguish rolled down her cheek. Her body was in sudden motion within the next moment. Her fingers danced over the controls on her CD player to change tracks.
A loud thumping reverberated thru the wood of her bedroom door. No movement was made, why bother when the knocker would come in anyways. Expectably, the door swung wide giving way to a man about her age, a cocky grin marring his cruel features. Mental images of wounds and blows played through her mind, spanning from early childhood to now. She was done with it. Today. Today was her chance at her freedom. To find where she belonged.
“The fuck do you want, Donnie?” She asked bluntly, her words venomous and each one more scathing than the prior. Facing him, she turned, a cold, devoid expression masking her pretty features and a raised bruise running the length of the left side of her face.
Donnie went livid, he viciously backhanded her across the left side of her face. “You should know better, Tara…you can NEVER speak to me like that.”
The slap sent her down to one knee beside her bed. Fingers wrapping around the hilt, she held fast to the athame stowed under her bed. Things weren’t going according to plan, improvisation secured her escape.
“You’re lucky I haven’t killed you,” Donnie spoke to her, like he, himself was one of the gods. Arrogance would be his downfall, pride his fatal sin. The opportune moment presented itself and Tara grasped it like a dying man at sea to his rock.
Tara was up within the moment. Metal hit flesh as she buried her dagger into his stomach. “Goodbye, Donnie.” She said, not to sweetly, the witches eyes burned of magickal fury. One foot past the other she backed up a step and ripped the blade out, a sickening tear and squelch heard.
She picked up her duffle bag and her backpack, hiding the bloodied knife in her duffle. Her feet carried her out of her room, her house. < A breath, this song, how long and knew, knew: belong>
Author’s Notes: Jumpin’ ahead to 1998.
Feedback: Same holds for flames, though I am thinking of other vengeance methods, suggestions welcome. Once again, those that are civil, are my friend.
On with the tale…
Shadows
The Alternate Tale of Three Witches
Chapter One: Under Pressure
August 9, 1998
“Pressure pushing down on me, pressing down on you, no man asks for. Under pressure, that burns a building down, splits a family in two…” A beautiful, melodic voice drifted out of the open window. Inside, a curvaceous blonde laid back on her bed, singing perfectly to the wisdom that is/was/forever will be Freddie Mercury.
“It's the terror of knowing what this world is about, watching some good friends screaming let me out!”
She quieted down whilst the music kept playing. Her body prone as she stared at the ceiling. Silent tears of anguish rolled down her cheek. Her body was in sudden motion within the next moment. Her fingers danced over the controls on her CD player to change tracks.
A loud thumping reverberated thru the wood of her bedroom door.
“The fuck do you want, Donnie?” She asked bluntly, her words venomous and each one more scathing than the prior. Facing him, she turned, a cold, devoid expression masking her pretty features and a raised bruise running the length of the left side of her face.
Donnie went livid, he viciously backhanded her across the left side of her face. “You should know better, Tara…you can NEVER speak to me like that.”
The slap sent her down to one knee beside her bed.
“You’re lucky I haven’t killed you,” Donnie spoke to her, like he, himself was one of the gods.
Tara was up within the moment. Metal hit flesh as she buried her dagger into his stomach. “Goodbye, Donnie.” She said, not to sweetly, the witches eyes burned of magickal fury. One foot past the other she backed up a step and ripped the blade out, a sickening tear and squelch heard.
She picked up her duffle bag and her backpack, hiding the bloodied knife in her duffle. Her feet carried her out of her room, her house. < A breath, this song, how long and knew, knew: belong>