Cruel Sister: A Spander Fairytale. | By : runningwithcoyotes Category: > Spike(William)/Xander > Spike(William)/Xander Views: 2543 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own "Buffy: The Vampire Slayer", it belongs to Joss Whedon. The song "Cruel sisters" belongs to itself. I get nothing from this but the pleasure of writing it, no money made here. |
“Oh, he is so handsome!” Prince Alexander exclaimed for the third time, making
Willow, the court magician, laugh at him.
“Someone is in love!” she exclaimed in a sing-song voice and hugged her dear friend.
Her wife, a healer named Tara, smiled affectionately at the both of them and poured
more tea.
“Oh, Willow, what do I do?” Xander asked, fretting. “Shall I simply tell him? But
what if he does not love me? Oh I cannot bear it, I will die – I shall simply die if he
does not love me!”
“Now, Xan, do not be such a silly goose. Of course he loves you!” Willow exclaimed
and wiped away the tears that fell unbidden from the prince’s eyes. “How can he not?
You are such a wonderful person!”
Tara found it best to distract the prince from his worries, and did so. She had a trick
up her sleeve that always worked, on both prince and magician. She picked up a small
plate and offered it to them.
“Another slice of gingerbread?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sir Spike was in a desperate, anxious state. The rooms Queen Joyce had so generously
given him were a complete mess of clothes, weapons, pieces of armor and many,
many, many pieces of parchment.
“Enchanting! Why are there never any good rhymes for enchanting!” he ranted.
“I cannot use ‘bewitching’, it sounds like I am under a spell-” he stopped mid-rant.
“A spell! Aye! Bewitched I am, entranced and ensnared!” he grabbed the nearest quill
and scribbled frantically on a piece of parchment.
So lost was the knight in his attempt to write the perfect love poem, he did not hear
his door open. And he most definitely did not notice Princess Buffy entering the room.
“I need another three syllables on the fourth line or it won’t flow properly…” he
muttered around the quill he was chewing on.
The princess sashayed over to where he stood, curious to see what he was writing
about her. He could not possibly be writing about anyone else, since the whole
kingdom knew she was the fairest in the land. Why, she broke hearts simply by
waking up in the morning! (That much was true, although not quite in the way
she meant.) She was just about to announce her presence, when Spike cheerfully
exclaimed:
“I will change ‘sable hair’ to ‘curls of deepest night!’ It is a bit silly, true, but it
flows much better!” Buffy froze her mouth half-opened. Sable? You could say
many things about her, but she was a natural blond. Her eyes narrowed. Dawn had
sable hair. That little witch! Everybody knew that *she* was the loveliest, how
dared her bratty little sister snag a gorgeous knight right under her nose? She was
going to talk to that girl. Now! She turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the
door shut behind her.
Spike looked up in confusion. “Did someone just slam a door?” he asked the thin air,
but received no reply since air cannot speak. He shrugged. “I must be imagining things.”
What was important, though, was the poem he was planning on leaving on prince
Alexander’s pillow (he was much too shy to give it to the boy himself).
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It is not true that princess Dawn fainted when her sister ripped her door wide open
and stormed into her room with a murderous look on her face, but she did drop her
crystal hairbrush and whimpered when it shattered.
“Buffy!” she exclaimed woefully. “I liked that brush!”
“Never mind the brush!” Buffy shrieked and proceeded with thoroughly raving at her
sister about men in general and a certain knight in particular, while Dawn desperately
tried to get a word in edgewise to explain that she had no interest in Sir Spike
whatsoever and that if Buffy wanted him she would certainly not try to get in her way.
“Besides!” Dawn hurriedly said when Buffy paused to breathe. “I would never be so
cruel to Andy!” Buffy stared at her in total confusion.
“To who?”
“Andy. Andrew, you know, father’s head librarian? Him and I are, um, you know.”
Dawn turned a very becoming shade of red.
“A librarian?” Buffy sneered in disgust. “What worth is a simple librarian when
you can marry a knight?” Dawn straightened herself up and looked unusually regal.
And quite angry.
“I will have you know, sister, that not all women in this world judge a man by his
title! My Andrew is a good man with a gentle soul, and I shall marry him as soon
as I come of age!”
“As if he would wait for –you– for two years.” Buffy sneered.
“That such a thing would come out of your mouth, only shows how little you know
about love, Buffy. Andrew loves me, I love him, and he will ask father for my hand
on my sixteenth birthday, so there!” Buffy’s brain was reeling with the information.
But if it was not her sister that was Spike’s one true love, who was?
“Well” Dawn replied and Buffy realized that she had voiced the question. “I am not
the only one in this family with sable hair, now am I? Now OUT, I have to prepare
for dinner and I promised to meet Andrew in the library before it.” Buffy left her
sister’s room, a distracted look on her face. Not Dawn. The poem was not meant for
Dawn.
Dawn kneeled on the floor and carefully gathered up the pieces of the brush.
“Am I imagining things” she muttered, “or is Buffy acting quite irrationally these days?”
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