D’Hoffryn’s Circus
By Arlais Fale

Disclaimer: Joss and I have a deal going on. I use his characters in my sadistic pleasures and I don’t tell the world about his nose picking habits. I honestly worship the man, I do. But seriously… keep the finger out of your nose dude.

Note from the author: This started out as a warm up for a high school paper. This ended up as a kickass idea for a fanfiction. I got it five years ago when taking my sister to the circus and have been refining the idea ever since. Oh, and I just want to add, that this was NOT taken from X-Men’s House of M or Alias season… three? Although I have seen them since I began writing, nothing has been (consciously) influenced.

Rating: It’s going to be R for language and adult content. But in some select parts and for certain stories, it’s going to be NC for the racy scene later on and other stuff... that is not so nice. And then there is just general brutality to the characters.

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The crowd was silent as a single beam of light shone down from the ceiling and onto the floor. There was nothing but floating particles that responded and reflected against the bright whiteness. A few coughs echoed through the tents but each sound was greeted with angry glances. Soon everything was quiet except for the rustle of changing positions from the uncomfortable spectators.

But through the silence, footsteps came like shots in the dark. Some would say that the steps were magically enhanced from witches in the rafters who would cast spells on the performers. Some would say it was from technology; a machine as big as a fly that intensifies sounds, but a few knowledgeable souls would know the truth. It was the dead quiet of a thousand suppressed breaths and slowed heartbeats that would cause one’s footsteps to bounce off of their bodies and echo in a room made of canvas.

The footsteps stepped into the light. The crowd saw he was someone who had seen too much danger in his life and he looked at the faces of those who had come to see his performance. He turned slowly with arms stretched, showing he was unarmed and willing to tell the truth. His coat was black velvet and soaked up the light with only the barest gleam to show that it was real. A white shirt shimmered like a diamond while his hair moved with his every motion. When he returned to his original position, it seemed like a lifetime had passed.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, if you are faint of heart leave at once.” He began, his voice with a crisp English accent, intelligent, full of knowledge and books. Yet there was no pride or haughtiness, only the emotion of regret. No one moved from their seat, it was as if the entire tent dared themselves to listen to this man’s tale, even if there was danger.

“I am here to tell you a story unlike any other you have heard before. A story cannot be told without weeping. I shudder to even think of this tale. But I must. For it holds a history, a lesson, and a moral for all those who convince themselves they are brave enough to listen. And those who do will become wiser men for it. And even more horrifying, this is the entire truth as I saw with my very own eyes.”

There were some who shifted in their seats and others who clutched their purses and arms of their lovers and loves. And there were some who even convinced their partners that they could not endure it. They lifted themselves from their seats and prepared to reclaim their money but as any good storyteller would know, they could not leave. The speaker’s face changed and slowly, he spun again, inviting every spectator to come into his world and listen to his promise of a most enticing tale.

“I will tell you a story of love and hate and tragedy. There are no survivors who have not been sacrificed. There are no players who won. And yet, the greatest love bloomed from the most sacred of humans and the most unholy of creatures.”

An excited look overcame his face. And as he crouched down into a frightening pose, he shifted from left and right, circling the spectators, concocting something truly terrible. Some shifted their gaze, others watched with horrified stares. All listened to his words, helpless to do more or less.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he screamed, “I present the Love Story of Buffy and Spike! Slayer and Vampire!”