Secret Slasha – The Buffy the Vampire Slayer & Angel Slash Fanfiction Secret Santa Project
Secret Slasha – The Buffy the Vampire Slayer & Angel Slash Fanfiction Secret Santa Project

Feel The
By Briar
For Madilyn

So Cordelia explains about "dying" while giving birth to a Goddess / Supreme Demon / Hellspawn From Another Dimension, and how it felt to lose herself, bit by bit, ever since coming back from a State of Higher Being.

Buffy screws up her face like she's got a mouthful of something bitter she doesn't want to swallow when Cordelia explains about her belly getting bigger, again, and even the incredible wrongness of sleeping with Angel's underage son.

"I mean, I used to wipe his shitty ass and throw away his poopy diapers, and suddenly, wham! Bam!" Cordy pulls down the corners of her mouth; she throws off her voice, and affects a male, teenage-ish timbre: " 'So this is cunnilingus.' "

Buffy giggles because, she does.

When Cordelia's silent, Buffy begins the story about the men in the desert, and how they waited, thought, and thoughtlessly made The First of her kind. She explains about the broken staff, how there were no more weapons, how she didn't want to kill the nice wise tribesmen despite refusing their offer to eat the oily black demonic mojo.

It was strangling her, and then she could feel it filling her nose, her mouth, her ears, her eyes.


"How long are we supposed to wait here?" Cordelia wails. She has got her girlish figure back, and is wearing an Anna Sui shift that ends in an A-line skirt. Midnight black, to match the Manolos.

They had figured out that changing their clothes, the food that magically appeared on a table whenever they felt like eating something, externals like furniture, and stuff like that, would just

"Cordy, stop complaining," Buffy chirps.

She is either eating taffy or beef jerky, and she's wearing Betsy Johnson, neon green and baby-mama-drama purple and electric pink.

"But it's, like, the third day, or something. I can't even tell anymore..."

Cordelia flounces over to one of the goosedown couches, and grimaces.

Buffy raises an eyebrow, draws the bows of her mouth pertly, and blinks.

Cordy's outfit changes into a spiked collar, a stretchy electric bright-blue mock-corset, fishnet gloves and more black eyeshadow and black lipstick than could cover Angel's wardrobe.


Buffy snickers. Buffy tries to hold her laugh in straight like empty beer glasses stacked atop each other. She guffaws, loudly. Cordelia thinks she's barking like a dog. When Buffy sits on her, and the couch turns into fluffy feather pillows Cordy joins in the laugher right before she mashes some high-loft goose feathers into an erruption of quite forcefull fluff into Buffy's cackling chortles-- head thrown back mouth wide open -- which happens before she gets rid of the taffy, and Cordy's satiated with glee.

Before Buffy mashes one in on her.



Cordy wakes up. Buffy's having another one of those dreams. She begins to wake her up, shaking her shoulders, careful to dodge any potential Slayer-strength hits by accident.

"No..," Buffy moans.

She bolts up in into a sitting position. Cordy drops her own hands.

Buffy is wet and sticky, plastered with sweat. Long ago, they'd given up the large fancy four-posters several paces away from each other. Sleeping together was nice because Cordy could wake Buffy up every time another one was bound to be a screamer. And Buffy could let Cordy snuggle into her arms whenever Cordy turned into a whimpering mess.

Buffy had learned early that she preferred not to be woken up during times like those.

They had begun to understand each other's needs for dealing with the ghosts of the living.

"What is it?" Cordy's whisper was a bit hoarse.

Buffy was usually cracking jokes about how they were both sure the pod demons in charge of their bodies must surely be growing a new husk by now, or something. Maybe farting.

"I..Cordelia, I remember this place."

That was new.

"My mother, I met my Mom here."

She begins to cry.

"We're not real, are we? How can we be real? It's like you've said all along, it's taken too much time for this to be heaven..."

Cordy pats her on the shoulder, swinging the long, butt-length blonde hair out of the way.

"Oh, honey. It's okay. I don't think we're in hell.."

Buffy sniffs the spot between Cordy's earlobe and jawline, Bulgari Green Tea.

"How can this be real?"

There is that pause where anything might happen, or everything, or nothing at all.

Cordelia licks a stripe from Buffy's collarbone to her ear.

Their clothes disappear, and they sink softly into the then-bed which has turned into a bubbling, hot jacuzzi.

Nice, wet, open kiss.

Not too much tongue, some biting of lips.

Cordelia pinches Buffy's nipple in one hand, begins to finger her with the other.

"Feel this."

Then she pinches her down there, too. Buffy's clit is very happy.

"This is real."

Buffy's arms wind around Cordelia and they sink into a puddle of chocolate in a kiddie pool.