Table of Contents

• Home
• Introduction
• Where Goths Come From - Neef
• The Watcher - Hobbes
• The Resurrection Shuffle - Barbarella
• Cassandra - Cosey Mo
• Drunken Old Bastard - Sandro
• Alcohol - Trayce
• Shadows - Entrippy
• Entropy - Kage-Ryu
• Is There A Point - Trajik
• Whispers - Kitsune
• Confessional - Sandro
• Garden - Entrippy
• Radio - Cam
• Cold Spell - Nikolai
• Slices - Neef
• A Bottle of Something Strong - Jraff
• The Light Fades - Tim
• Rain - Tim
• Self Help - Gothic Gallae
• Cato - Trajik
• Addiction/Fragment - Trayce
• Heal Thyself - Nikolai
• Shattered - Hobbes
• Travelling Song - Solitaire
• Distance - Stranger
• Legacy - Stranger

Cold Spell

Willow frowned, her eyes darting from side to side. "No... but I can sense something... outside." She found a thick cable-knit pullover[1], slipped it over her head, struggling to find the sleeves and not helped by Tara tickling her while she was trying. "I think it's on backwards. Whatever. Goddess, it's freezing in here." She slipped out of the sleeping bag and cautiously approached the bay window. She jumped back, startled, as a white face appeared in the clear space. It was Spike.

He smiled winningly and wiggled his fingers by way of greeting. Tara came over wearing most of the blankets and Spike nodded to her affably. He wiped away shards of frozen sleet, pointed at the latch holding the window closed and gave them an inquiring look. Willow grinned, shook her head, gave him the finger and closed the curtains as Spike was mouthing the words 'Oh, come on'. She led Tara back to the sleeping bag and they took up where they'd left off.

"He won't -"

"He can't, unless we invite him in. Besides, he's still got that behaviour chip in his head. Don't worry. Here. Oh, yeah, right there. Ah. Oh, I love you."

"Mmm."

It got colder. It got a lot colder.

Tara: "Are there any more blankets? No? Brrr. Maybe we should get up and jog."
Willow: "I'm thinking that it's time to resort to extreme keeping-warm measures."
Tara: "Extreme measures like the tease game?"
Willow: "I'm afraid so. Who goes first?"
Tara: "It's Thursday morning, and Thursday has a T in it, so it's Tara's turn to tease."

Willow obediently turned around in the bed so she was sitting in Tara's lap. The mattress beneath the wooly beige soft cotton sheets was old, and the indentations of old springs formed ridges in places, big enough to slip an arm underneath a sleeping companion.

Over a period of five minutes Tara drew the sleeves of Willow's pullover down over her arms, slowly lifted the waistband up over her shoulders and head. They stuffed the warm pullover down around their almost numb toes and Tara started on the long-sleeved windcheater with the purple glittery pentagram on the front (a gift from a Wiccan net.friend in New Jersey). Removing this was more difficult because Willow began arching her back and making soft sighing sounds, some of them almost moans, all of them very distracting. "Stop that," Tara ordered jokingly, hugging Willow tightly from behind and pawing tentatively at her breasts. Willow smiled in the dark and put her hands over Tara's, pressing them together. She pushed Tara's fingers apart, pressed them around her nipples and held them there with her hands until she was sure Tara wasn't going to let go. Willow closed her eyes and breathed deeply, feeling content, and wiggled her hips.

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