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California Dreaming

Title: California Dreaming
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Character/Pairing: pre-Giles/Buffy
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge/Prompt: nekid_spike's Mini Nekid Guest for February: Giles; beattheblackdog #53: Pink; and tv_universe (Tell them Kat Lee of Team Bunny Ears sent you if you join!) Boxes of Emotion: Best Friends
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 882
Date Written: 10 February 2017
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.





He stands, overlooking London as the sun begins to come up over his city. Last night was a night of which he would have once, not too long ago, said dreams were made. Examples of its finery stretch from behind him all the way to the front door of Ethan's loft in scattered clothing, jewels, and money, bits and pieces of dropped drugs, and naked bodies. They were treated like Kings last night, and yet . . . Yet this morning, Ripper still finds himself unsatisfied.

There's something new coming, he knows. He can sense it in his bones, in his gut, in his sleep that's restless even when he should be catatonic. He can sense it in the early wash of the sunlight on his pale skin, sense it in the foggy air he breathes, sense it in the pull of the cigar between his teeth, and even in the way the early morning breeze blows softly over the hairs on his arms. It's all around him, and yet, he still doesn't know what it is.

He caught flashes of it last night at the most abrupt times throughout the party. He caught flashes of gnashing, deadly fangs and monsters. He caught flashes of another pair of lips -- softer, pinker, more supple -- so many of the times his lips were touched by others'. He heard his lovers moan, heard Ethan moan, and yet there was another voice on the wind, calling a word he never thought he would want to hear. "Watcher," it had called. "Watcher," and Ripper knew then and knows again this morning that that voice, whatever it was, was calling him.

Watcher. It's what his parents and his grandparents have always wanted him to be, and yet it's a life he never wanted for himself. He doesn't want to become another one of the old stodges simply watching life pass him by. He doesn't want to be responsible for the fate of the world, neither wholly nor even partially. He doesn't want to be responsible for a teenage girl's life, even if she is the only one of her kind, no more than he wants a girl to do his fighting for him, even if it supposed to be her destiny.

And his destiny is supposed to be serving mankind as the very thing he was called last night, or so all his elders have told him his entire life. He'll be bloody well damned if he lets somebody else -- anybody else -- tell him what he's supposed to do with his life. And yet . . . Yet that pull remains. Yet there's something in the twist of that word as the voice called him last night that makes his lips want to twitch into a smile. There's something about that destiny that he knows he's never going to be able to entirely outrun.

And he's no longer entirely certain he wants to outrun the whole thing. There's so much more to life than dusty, old books and amulets. There are so many more things he wants to do. He's never going to be able to be the man the Council, or his family, wants him to be. He's never going to simply roll over and stop living -- not for them or for any one. But there's something about that destiny that's calling him now, something he can almost reach out and touch, something he actually wants to feel . . .

Once more, he remembers the lips he saw when he was touched by others last night. Once more, he hears the whisper on the wind as the sun slowly lifts higher. "Ripper?" He doesn't look back when Ethan calls. The knot in his gut tells him this is one journey on which his best friend isn't going to be able to accompany him. Whatever comes next, he's got to do it alone. He's got to face it alone.

But he won't be entirely alone. He again sees those pretty, pink lips, but this time, he sees them part in a soft, barely audible whisper. "Giles," the girl calls. He's never gone by his last name before. Giles has always been his father, or even his grandfather, but never him. He's Ripper. He rips what he wants from life, but things are soon no longer going to be that simple. He's going to answer the call. He's going to have to do it alone, but he won't be alone for very much longer.

He sees those lips smiling at him, parting for him, tasting him as he becomes hard again.

"Ripper?" Ethan calls once again, coming closer to him. "What's wrong, mate?"

"Nothing," Ripper answers from around the thick cigar he clenches in his teeth. "Nothing." The world just is no longer so plain. It's no longer black and white, no longer him or them, and there's somebody waiting for him now, somebody with soft, pink lips, hair like gold, and a smile as bright and radiant as California sunlight. Hmm, California, he thinks, so that's where he's headed, but who is this girl who waits for him? Only time will tell, but for the first time in his life, Ripper looks forward to a discovery of which his parents might actually approve.

The End

Comments

( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
kattrip033
Feb. 17th, 2017 04:57 am (UTC)
Very nicely done
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )

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