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slashthedrabble Nov. 2nd, 2008 03:38 am)
http://users.livejournal.com/_beetle_/ posting in slashthedrabble Nov. 2nd, 2008 03:38 am)Dunno where it came from, but it wanted to get writ. As always, top-notch prompting :)
Haunted
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
_beetle_
Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Oz, Xander, Oz/Devon
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 500
Notes: Set Post-Chosen by at least a year. Mention of major character death.
Summary: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
slashthedrabble prompt 185, “haunted”.
Xander's ghost has been trailing after him for weeks, now.
“How'd you die?” Oz'd asked once, hands nimbly restringing the band's guitars. The Dingoes had only been reformed for two months, he and Dev sleeping together for half that, but already it was like highschool again. Only without all the murders.
The ghost had merely looked confused for a moment--very Xandery confusion--rubbed his patch--when did that happen?--and turned away.
“I'm not dead,” he'd said. Then continued talking about something called a Mbuna fish, and someone who may or may not be Tucker Wells's younger brother.
*
None of the other Dingoes can sense Xander.
It's enough that Oz can see him standing in the shadows, or in the audience . . . a cold spot the crowd instinctively shifts away from, little by little.
And after shows, after cds and body parts have been signed, when the instruments are packed away, when the Dingoes are headed for whatever motel then can afford--and Dev nearly makes Oz crash because he can't keep his hands or his mouth to himself--Xander disappears. Haunts someone else for awhile, perhaps. Maybe Willow or Buffy or Giles.
He's probably, Oz thinks sleepily, as Dev snuffles into his shoulder, kinda lonely.
*
“I think you were right,” the ghost says out of nowhere, in the middle of another wistful monologue about “Dawnie”, Buffy's supposed little sister.
Oz doesn't even try to keep track of who's real and who's not, anymore. He's grown used to the Xander-ghost's nonstop ramble, like standing in the middle of a cool, familiar river.
Dev's sitting on a curb, in the sunshine, mumbling the lyrics to a new song, his sketchbook filling with doodles and phrases--the way Dev's mind turns is something that makes Oz smile a lot, lately--while Oz changes the van's brake fluid.
“There was a girl, and a village and a helicopter, and a field, and we were running, and . . . then there was nothing,” Xander says absently. He seems pale and dim, somehow. Smaller than the kid Oz knew, and much older. Midday traffic zips right through him. “I don't think we made it out.”
Oz nods. “I'm sorry,” he says, and means it. The ghost hangs his head . . . starts to fade.
“Babe?”
The warmth of Dev's arms around him is sudden--makes him blink.
Xander is gone.
“You okay?” Oz looks up into puzzled, but happy dark eyes, and smiles a little. Dev always looks somewhat bewildered these days, like a man who tripped on a pothole and fell into a field of clover.
Oz is beginning to understand this look has nothing to do with the growing popularity of the band, and a lot to do with the two of them sharing things: motel rooms, showers, and beds. And breakfasts, because Dev always steals food off his plate and Oz always lets him.
A lingering chill that he hadn't even noticed passes. “I'm cool. Hey, lemme hear that new song you're writing?”
Haunted
Author:
_beetle_Fandom: BtVS
Pairing: Oz, Xander, Oz/Devon
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 500
Notes: Set Post-Chosen by at least a year. Mention of major character death.
Summary: Written for
slashthedrabble prompt 185, “haunted”.Xander's ghost has been trailing after him for weeks, now.
“How'd you die?” Oz'd asked once, hands nimbly restringing the band's guitars. The Dingoes had only been reformed for two months, he and Dev sleeping together for half that, but already it was like highschool again. Only without all the murders.
The ghost had merely looked confused for a moment--very Xandery confusion--rubbed his patch--when did that happen?--and turned away.
“I'm not dead,” he'd said. Then continued talking about something called a Mbuna fish, and someone who may or may not be Tucker Wells's younger brother.
None of the other Dingoes can sense Xander.
It's enough that Oz can see him standing in the shadows, or in the audience . . . a cold spot the crowd instinctively shifts away from, little by little.
And after shows, after cds and body parts have been signed, when the instruments are packed away, when the Dingoes are headed for whatever motel then can afford--and Dev nearly makes Oz crash because he can't keep his hands or his mouth to himself--Xander disappears. Haunts someone else for awhile, perhaps. Maybe Willow or Buffy or Giles.
He's probably, Oz thinks sleepily, as Dev snuffles into his shoulder, kinda lonely.
“I think you were right,” the ghost says out of nowhere, in the middle of another wistful monologue about “Dawnie”, Buffy's supposed little sister.
Oz doesn't even try to keep track of who's real and who's not, anymore. He's grown used to the Xander-ghost's nonstop ramble, like standing in the middle of a cool, familiar river.
Dev's sitting on a curb, in the sunshine, mumbling the lyrics to a new song, his sketchbook filling with doodles and phrases--the way Dev's mind turns is something that makes Oz smile a lot, lately--while Oz changes the van's brake fluid.
“There was a girl, and a village and a helicopter, and a field, and we were running, and . . . then there was nothing,” Xander says absently. He seems pale and dim, somehow. Smaller than the kid Oz knew, and much older. Midday traffic zips right through him. “I don't think we made it out.”
Oz nods. “I'm sorry,” he says, and means it. The ghost hangs his head . . . starts to fade.
“Babe?”
The warmth of Dev's arms around him is sudden--makes him blink.
Xander is gone.
“You okay?” Oz looks up into puzzled, but happy dark eyes, and smiles a little. Dev always looks somewhat bewildered these days, like a man who tripped on a pothole and fell into a field of clover.
Oz is beginning to understand this look has nothing to do with the growing popularity of the band, and a lot to do with the two of them sharing things: motel rooms, showers, and beds. And breakfasts, because Dev always steals food off his plate and Oz always lets him.
A lingering chill that he hadn't even noticed passes. “I'm cool. Hey, lemme hear that new song you're writing?”
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From:
no subject
*hugs him*
I love that Oz just accepted him for whatever he was, familiar and nothing bad, and just let him be....
*sniffle*
From:
no subject
I didn't wanna go big scary, or big angst with Xander's ghost. Only Oz would be this chill about accepting a friend's death. I shudder to think how Willow would handle it. I don't think the other Scoobs would've been able to let him go to rest so easily. Well, maybe Buffy, considering what she's gone through :-/
From:
no subject
*shudders*
From:
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I'm glad to see that my rpompts are meeting with approval. It's so much fun to decide what you all get to write about here, and over at StI. :D
From:
no subject
From there, the rest of it just followed. Only Oz would let ghost!Xander be ghost!Xander until he was ready to accept his death and rest.
Like I said, the promptage is pretty freakin sweet.
From:
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From:
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I don't usually write Oz, but he seemed perfect for Xander to haunt. Someone who wouldn't freak, and who, in his own nonjudgmental way, help with the whole crossing over thing.
Plus, I've always been a fan of Oz/Xander, or Oz/Devon. This is a wee bit of both :)
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
I've never written Oz/Devon before, though I've read my fair share of it. I was more of a fan of Oz/Xander, but that didn't feel right for this piece. I wanted Oz to grieve for Xander, in his Oz-y, nonjudgmental, nonpressure-y way, but to have his own life waiting for him, sans Scoobs.
And there is something sweet about Oz/Dev finding each other and the Dingoes and their own way :)
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
The Oz/Devon exhange at the end was sweet, gentle.
Poor Xander
*pouts*
Make it better?
~Alice~
From:
no subject
Have you ever met me? Do I ever make it better? No, silly Death Bee! In fact, if it shows signs of getting better, I quickly lose interest.
At least Xander's free enough to try and find some sort of rest. Though, honestly? Just based on canon, I imagine either Dawn--or Willow if she were absolutely sure Xander was trapped on this plane, and that she wouldn't be dragging him out of heaven--would try to bring him back. Of course, there might not be enough Xander . . . parts-wise . . . to do that :(
But Oz and Devon have a markedly brighter future, free of all things Sunnydale. Or least free of the Sunnydale gang, and there is something to be said for that if a semi-normal life is what one aims for. Ooh! And Devon's slightly less shallow!