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

Bilateral Symmetry
By Lunarwolfik
For Amy

Her breath slows down. There's a small wet noise with the sharp crack-surprise of a glass breaking and amber colored numbness seeps through the ground of hell as light flares and illumination is finally offered. A desk of oak-mahogany, brown and beautiful, is lit up and bounces the faintrays of light. It speaks of what was and is and could be and a thousand other things while a life hers and not hers is played out through her head. Flashes of past and present, of real and fake. Of a steady rhythm of 'not crazy, not crazy' that was never completely wiped off the surface until a deal in blood was drawn and she could see what was/en't her meet up with what used to be/not be.

She can see what she's become, well not her but what looks like her as a God that was plays it all out, surround sound and in Dolby Digital.

Fred's there, but not, as the thing moves her limbs and speaks with her mouth. It talks of things that never happened and things that might have and all Fred can do is watch, the chafe of chains thick on her skin. She didn't think it'd turn out this way, who would have? But it doesn't matter as she watches her body twist and bend to a will not her own while she's still stuck in Hell, Incorporated.

"Like what you see?" A whisper of power as Lilah gently twirls another glass of scotch, the other broken bottle forgotten. She smirks infuriatingly and all Fred wants is to make her shut up and be dead.

"Depends on the implications." Her voice is steady and center, can't be her.

"Ah..don't play cat and mouse with me little girl. I can see right through your 'I'm a sweet little Texas innocent' routine. Always could." She still smirks and wears sex like a second skin.

"That's all very nice but I think I'd best be leaving, what with you being the devil and all."

Lilah's laughter grates on Fred's nerves, the feeling foreign and malignant.

"The devil. Wow, you really are that fucked up in that head of yours, aren't you? I guess you're half right, purgatory not withstanding." She pauses as if taking stock but Fred knows better. "Let's see, made a deal with a devil, does that count?"

She cocks her head, catlike and fake innocence.

"I don't want to be a part of this."

Her answer gives the lawyer a moment of pause.

"Well, then I won't keep you here little miss muffet. Scurry along then."

A rustle, a clank, but no one moves.


"I...I'm thinking. It's not like this has ever happened to me before..."

"You really believe that?"

A constriction of muscles. A slight clench of the jaw.

"I might, if the current surroundings weren't, well, surrounding me."

"Don't like caves, little bitch cow?"

"There's that. And the whole corpse thing kinda adds to the creep factor."

A slight smirk.

"Now isn't that funny, cause last time I checked you were one." Lilah's response is cool and calculated. It doesn't hurt as much as it should.

"That's not the point, Lilah." She's flustered and ill as the past day-year-lifetime still flickers through her head with that 'God' violating her body. "Can I just go already. You've shown me what you wanted me to see, sadistic as it was. What more do you want?"

"Oh, my little plaything doesn't like our 'arrangement' anymore?"

"I didn't sign up for this...."

Lilah's quirk of the brow is question enough for Fred.

"Okay, I did. But not like that. And I certainly didn't sign up for what came after." If she'd known the consequences, known what had really happened, known that she'd never die, she'd have changed....something.

"You weren't saying that last night, all hot and bothered. Crying my name out 'Lilah, Lilah. Oh please, god, don't stop!'"


"Hurts when I know the real you, doesn't it?"


"How about another deal?"


"It'll be a trade."

"You're offering me, the woman from Wolfram & Hart, a deal?"

"Well, I don't really have many options at the moment. If you don't go for it, then I'm not really that bad off am I? Or you could go and mess with the other person chained up for all eternity."

Small laughter.

A slow reluctant nod.

"Do go on" The answer is almost a purr of acknowledgement.

"Let them live and you can have me permanently."

A pause. Thoughts.

"What makes you think I would want you?"

"I seem to recall I wasn't the only one screaming."

"Oh, you misunderstand. I can have you whenever I want, but that doesn't mean I want you. Which means your trade isn't so much a trade as just a laughable idea."

She's caught off guard. Just a little.

"Then name your price and I'll meet it. I'll do whatever you want and more if you just let them live." She knows she's begging now, but she can't let them end up like this. "Please."


Circle, circle. Clank of chains and a shift of bodies.

Sharp quick movement of hands grabbing her. An intake of breathe and a cascade of hair.

Her voice is close.


Vague shock.


Twist of hand and the scrap of cloth on skin.

"You heard me." Whisper. Another soft rustle of chains.

Small breath.


Harder, painful pleasure thrilling through her veins. Fire coursing.

"Wrong answer." Continued movement. Breathing labored, drip of blood as a push of hips twists the bindings the wrong way. Manicured nails rove over her too thin dress. Summer yellow. Twist of pressure here yes and another there yes. More labored breathes and floating sparks. A moan barely escapes. Scrap of nails on skin, hard, too hard. More drips of blood. Nobody cares, caught in the movement just like that and feel, twist feels so good pull scrap, quiver of thighs. So close so damn good. The moans are louder now, flicker of pain pleasure with the first good god thrust, continues, picks up pace and mere phrases get jumbled and made unclear. The world does that funny blur thing. A light pattern of sparks-white ride up from oh god there and it's just enough, so close

Then nothing.

Low keening moan of need want lust.

Body thrumming with live desire unfulfilled.


"Now, now. No need to get angry"

Words don't quite match up as the feel good pleasure still swarms through her.

"Fuck." Small curse word, barely there and filling gaps of frustration.

"Not until you beg little girl."