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So, think Falcon's Crest meets Dallas and the Dukes of Hazaard, and throw them in West Texas in the rodeo circuit. That about sums this up. Pure crack, all fun, don't be shy. Written for the Gud Summries ficafunathingathon, the masterlist is HERE, and newly updated!

Title: I Gave My Soul To Jesus, But I Left My Heart For You, 2/?
Author: Stoney
Pairing/Rating: Buffy, Spike, possibly others. PG-13 fer cussin' and swearin' and stompin' by horse flesh on tender girl legs
Summary (heh): Based on the gud summries: "Buffy was a yound [sic] and promising Barrel Racer. Then she had an accident. Spike was a young and promising Bull Rider. Then he met Buffy." Yep. That pretty much sums it up.
A/N: Sit by a campfire when the doggies are done howling, get the cooky to hum a tune on his harmonica, and let my Texas narrator tell you a tale of promise, heartbreak, and a woman scorned. Get a'long, little doggies. This is the very embodiment of crack!fic. Hallelujah and pass the hooch. Also: =& is a spur, and % is a horse's ass, which I may have made of myself.)

Miss the beginning? Look no further.

"I Gave My Soul To Jesus, But I Left My Heart For You: Part Deuce"

=& % =&


There you are. Thought we done near lost you in the sagebrush. Now, I hope you didn't take to heart what them cowpokes told you about using Prickly Pear to wipe your backside after giving back to Mother Nature, 'cause that's just a joke they play on gringos to keep themselves entertained. Grab yourself a plate of beans and rashers and settle into your roll, and I'll pick up this yarn again. Don't forget to check your blanket for rattlers - they like to curl up in there.

Now, when we last saw our girl Buffy - her mama had gone through a fanciful name spell after a silver-tongued vanilla salesman from Omaha breezed through town stealing hearts like a magpie steals clothespins - she was darn near rock bottom. All her dreams, hopes, hell, even the cowboy that won her heart was ripped out of her hands like the washing on a line during twister season.

I'm gonna tell you straight, ain't gonna lie to you. Life is hard, and living is mean. Some folks is just meaner'n snake shit, and that's just God's honest truth. Buffy may have started out purer than the driven proverbial snow, but when life is cruel, it can twist even the straightest arrow into something that can bend and twist and take yer eye out. Buffy was about to become this in the metaphorical sense.

It started off with a loose strap here, a pricker under a horse blanket there until after a few mishaps with her ride, Skyler's time started slipping. And soon enough, her daddy started hinting that he'd like to start throwing his money down a diff'ernt bottomless pit. Well, without Daddy's money funding her racing, that gal had to leave the rodeo and plop her porcine rump in a naughahide chair at her daddy's dealership and make cow eyes at the balding salesmen in their stretched-out and shiny-seated suits.

But what about that slick, lupine feller that'd treated our gal like so much offal? He had them buckles for a reason, sure as shootin', and he started making a name for himself out here in the local circuits. Some folks claimed that boy done had himself a gen-u-wine black hole between his legs that sucked him onto those bulls and kept him up for eight seconds and oft'times longer. But Buffy didn't just want to squash his dreams of being a champeen, she wanted to break his spirit, just like the world had broken hers....


Sonny whipped around, almost tangling his gangly legs in the process, and tore his Stetson off his head and covered his chest with it. "M-ma'am? How y'all are, Miss Buffy? You lookin' purdier than a spangledy pup today, if you don't mind my say-"

"Can it, wise ass. You know Mr. Taggert won't let me near them overgrown cows in my condition, so I'm gonna need you to take care of a little thang for me."

"M-miss Buffy, now... You know I cain't be he'ping you out like 'at no more. Why, some nights I jest lay there, a'thanking on all them thangs you had me do to that nice Miss Skyler's horse and I get a twistin' black feeling in my gut, like-

"Shut yore mouth, Mongo, and high-tail it over to #6. I want that knot on his balls loosened up. That bull ain't bucking nobody no how."

"But Miss Buffy! If that bull just walks out there with that white-haired devil on his back, what's people gonna thank?"

"They're gonna thank that he's got some kindly mojo he works over them critters, and they're gonna steer clear of him. That's where I step in."

"B-b-but Miss Buffy, you cain't be steppin' no where with them legs no more."

Buffy whipped the dust cover off her broken legs and lifted her torso up out of her chair on her powerful arms. "No. No I cain't, Sonny. I have you to thank for that, don't I? Now gitcher ass over to chute #6 and loosen some bull balls, PRONTO!"

Sonny nodded furiously, clapped his 5 gallon atop his head and kicked up a rooster tail of dust, a'runnin' to the bull barn. Buffy settled back in her chair and massaged her legs, a devilishly cruel grin fixed on her purdy puss. "One down, one to go."

=& % =&


"Well, we'll wait to hear back from the EMTs to see if #5 is gonna be okay! That boy'll probably walk again, but I don't think his head'll ever look the same!" The announcer covered up the microphone and leaned over to his mistress and spoke, "Lord, but I hate it when they get their skulls crushed. Just takes the fun out of the rest of the night, you know?"

The crowd at the Resistol Arena was a'whompin' and a'whalin', cheering their country-loving guts out. It's no secret that bull riding is the grand finale of any rodeo for a reason: the potential blood bath. But there was something diff'ernt about tonight's festivities. Not one of the cowboys had managed to stay on their rides for more than two seconds, let alone the required eight to advance. The rodeo clowns had been working overtime to divert the especially crazed bulls tonight, and every rider had become tangled in their hold ropes. The next rider was someone that was quickly becoming legend, and in West Texas, the home of Pecos Bill, the place where folks still uttered "Remember the Alamo" on their death beds, that was damn impressive. And when you took into account he weren't local, hell, some folks claimed he was a Yankee or worse, that was nigh on impossible.

"Folks, we got us a real cowboy coming up now. Chute #6 riding on Satan's Helper, one of the feistiest bulls to ever grace the sawdust. Let's give it up for... Spike!"

The crowd about came undone. Everyone was on their feet clapping and cheering and hollerin', and since I promised to be straight with you, leaning forward hoping to catch a glimpse of some bloodshed. Not since Jim Bowie was bayoneted in his cot and the dreams of independence were put on hold for a year have a people been more disappointed. The buzzer chimed, the chute opened, and the bull walked out. Folks, I'm telling you that Satan's Helper, a bull that took away the procreation ability of scores of men, sauntered outta that damned chute and began to scratch his nose on his leg.

Well, you don't need me to tell you that you could'a knocked that crowd over with a feather. And sittin' high and pretty on that tamed beast's back was that feller'd broke our gal's heart and soul, lookin' just as confused as a Pentecostal preacher on a Gay Pride float. Not that I have nuthin' against them peoples, I'm just making a point.

He tried rocking back and forth. He tried digging his heels in that ol' bull's sides. He reached back with his free hand and slapped the beast's rump. "Move your bloomin' arse!"

Damn Yankee. Bulls don't speak ainglish.

The buzzer sounded, announcing time, and if that critter didn't lay down in the sand and take a siesta with that hombre on his back, why, I'll eat my hat. He was declared the u-nanimous winner, but truth be told, folks started getting a little spooked about that boy. Some folks started whispering, as they're wont to do, that maybe he'd rigged the whole damn thing. Other folks shot that down sayin' as they'd seen him up at the Loose Deuce bar, wettin' his whistle earlier in the day, so there's no way he could'a done it.

And in a small town of god-fearin' folk, they started wondering what in blazes was wrong with that feller, the boy who could tame an animal named Satan's Helper. As the crowds started stompin' down the steel bleachers to their pick-em-ups, heading back to the homestead, Buffy wheeled back into the shadows to hide her grin. She clucked softly with her tongue and Blue, her trusty steed, moved up alongside her and nosed her shoulder, ready for a pat. She grabbed his reins, exhaled slowly, and pulled herself back up into the saddle.

Her anger and rage hadn't been enough to get her legs workin', but it seemed like cold revenge would do the trick. Mr. Taggert shut the main switch, and the emptied arena was plunged in darkness, all but for some faint starlight. Buffy patted Blue's neck, buried her hands in his mane, and used all her strength to try and squeeze her once-useless legs together. Just enough pressure to move Blue forward and she gave a small cry in triumph as her baby took her on a gentle canter along the perimeter of the ring.

Blue came to a stop next to her chair and patiently stood, tail whisking away flies from the both of them, as she lowered herself back to her chair.

"Next up, Regionals. Let's just see if he can tame the savage beast twice."

Lord, but her laugh was colder'n a witch's tit. Looks like that boy got hisself in a heap o' trouble.



( 24 comments — Leave a comment )
Jul. 5th, 2006 04:08 pm (UTC)
Ooooh, I did not forsee Buffy turning bad. But I guess she is supposed to ruin Spike's career, from the summary! And here I thought she'd ruin it by having a passel of his babies!

Glad to see Blue is not Glue!
Jul. 5th, 2006 04:42 pm (UTC)
Blue would NEVER become glue! *shudders* And I kinda thought the last lines of the first chapter showed Buffy was gonna be the downfall of the blessed, beautiful, purdy Spike, you know... JUST LIKE THE SHOW. O_O

(Hahaha!! Crack!fic. I love it!)

And you get twenty bonus points for using "passel of his babies" in a sentence.
Jul. 5th, 2006 04:30 pm (UTC)
Can't. Read. At. Work! Must. Not. Laugh!

*turns blue*
Jul. 5th, 2006 04:43 pm (UTC)

Laughter is medicine for HEALTH. Doesn't your company have insurance? I bet if you read the fine print, you'll see that it gives you permission to read my fic on office hours.
Jul. 5th, 2006 04:39 pm (UTC)
OOOH. Can't wait for the next bit!

Jul. 5th, 2006 04:43 pm (UTC)
Me, too! Wait... *types furiously* Heh.
Jul. 5th, 2006 04:53 pm (UTC)
Since you put yours up in parts, I'm gonna do that with mine, too. I'm fine tuning the ending, which is really the joke after this huge set up. I'll put the linky on the fic post.
Jul. 5th, 2006 05:06 pm (UTC)
See, saw, however you want it, and ♥!

(And now I'm wondering if you can sing along to: I saw, he saw, sittin' on a seesaw, I saw he saw with my girl...)
Jul. 5th, 2006 06:05 pm (UTC)
OH NO, it's season 6 all over again. Or is that season 7 where Buffy cuts off Spike's balls and eats them cold on toast? I get confused.

This whole story is wickedly delicious. Likely fattening like cheese grits.
Jul. 5th, 2006 06:20 pm (UTC)
Wheeeee!! *dresses up them grits with spicy shrimps and a cold one to warsh 'em down with*

I really shouldn't enjoy writing crack!fic as much as I do, but... I can't help it.
(Deleted comment)
Jul. 5th, 2006 07:08 pm (UTC)
That use of "kindly" for "kind of" is actually east Texas/Oklahoma, but I don't think anyone's gonna notice, do you? That was a shout out to my g-ma.

YAY for picking up on the Spike S2 link! I swear to god, get me drunk enough at WriterCon and I'll read this top to bottom with appropriate accents. Too bad Kathy's not gonna be there, or we could do it right, the three of us.
Jul. 7th, 2006 09:03 pm (UTC)
Man, when Buffy threw that there blanket offa her legs, I was sure she was gonna step outta that wheelchair and show 'em all, just like Spike!!
Jul. 7th, 2006 09:44 pm (UTC)
Hahaha! OMG, have you seen the future chapters?!?!??!?
Jul. 7th, 2006 09:45 pm (UTC)
no!!! Why?? are they out there somewhere? is there some way i could paaaaay for them? want a first born child? pound of flesh??
Jul. 5th, 2006 10:06 pm (UTC)
*snorts up large* Yip, Lordy, that's there's some good crack!fic there....and I kant do a Texan accent to save me miserable life, or that of the calf beside me...
Jul. 5th, 2006 10:56 pm (UTC)
Heh, and yay for loving the crack! And as long as you think I'm doing right by the equines, I don't care about the accent translation. :D
Jul. 6th, 2006 02:16 am (UTC)
Why are you NOT getting paid for this?

Buffy needs to take a walk down by the train tracks and fall, and then get run over. Because that would be cool.
Jul. 6th, 2006 12:16 pm (UTC)
I DON'T KNOW! (OH, because it's against the law or something. Stupid law.)

OMG, you are OTHERING Buffy, because she cannot WALK, omg, you are so cruel!

Jul. 6th, 2006 02:40 am (UTC)
West Texas, the home of Pecos Bill

Pecos Bill was from here?!?! ehem...I mean, Pecos Bill *was* from here! *nods* Nice shout out, that. *nods*

And colder'n a witch's tit is cold! By gosh, that's even colder than a well diggers butt in Montana! Yup. *nods sagely*

And they don't get their skulls crushed no more! Darn sport's been ruined I tell you! What with all them kevlar vests and hats now. Wusses.

*edited because I didn't originally end it with wusses.*
Jul. 6th, 2006 12:18 pm (UTC)
I choose to ignore the Pecos Bill comment. :D (Slough-foot Sue? And her Catfish? Pecos Bill's paramour? None of that rings a bell?)

And it's coldern'a dee-vor-say's smile as she walks away with Jimmy Bobby's heart and ropin' horse. And I prefer to watch the small town rodeos - they's still wild and free, like God intended. :)
Jul. 6th, 2006 02:08 pm (UTC)
Heh...Do you *know* how long it's been since I read or heard that story? I'll have to dig it out, because I'm sure the roebuds haven't heard it. I'm letting my fair state down. *bows head in shame*

*gasp* not his roping horse!

Heh...we prefer to go to the practice sessions. Lots of locals have a ring out back and they offer to train up younguns on how to ride them there bulls. (And how to ignore the people rolling around in their truck bed, laughing the a$$ off.) That is prime entertainment! LOL And the informal contest to see who can come up with the wittiest comment that indirectly decribes what that poor boys danglies just suffered is just as fun!
Jul. 6th, 2006 05:23 am (UTC)
heeeee!! Awesome, awesome! I love your narrator voice, especially these line:
but when life is cruel, it can twist even the straightest arrow into something that can bend and twist and take yer eye out. Buffy was about to become this in the metaphorical sense. I love the clarification that she'll become it metaphorically! And I love bitter scheming Buffy!

lookin' just as confused as a Pentecostal preacher on a Gay Pride float. Not that I have nuthin' against them peoples, I'm just making a point. heee! Awesome line!

And I love the My Fair Lady reference:
"Move your bloomin' arse!"

Looking forward to more! *g*
Jul. 6th, 2006 12:20 pm (UTC)
Ahahaha! The Dukes of Hazzard narration isn't ruining it? Yay! And I mmust admit to being particularly fond of the Pentecostal preacher line, but then, I've never NOT said I'm not shameless.

I like using multiple negatives in sentences. It makes English more like math.

Heee! Thanks for telling me, thanks for reading, and more coming soon!! (I bragged about your fic to Sue on the phone last night. Hope your ears were burning!)
(Deleted comment)
Jul. 24th, 2006 09:03 pm (UTC)
THANK YOU FOR PICKING UP ON THE VANILLA. And I'm just going to have to finish this damn thing. I can't have a WIP on my hands, Anne.

THE TALE MUST BE TOLD. (hahahaha!!)
( 24 comments — Leave a comment )


Are You Actually

Reading this? I'm just curious. Because that's really detail-oriented of you. Feel free to stop reading. But you can see that there's more here, so are you going to keep reading? Really? That's pretty dedicated. I'm impressed. No, really. I'm not being sarcastic, why do you get like that? See, this is the problem I have with your mother - yes. YES. I'm going there. It's time we put all of our cards on the table.

I love you, why are you doing this? After all we've been through? You don't have to be like this. You know, still reading. You could be baking a pie. And then sharing it with me.

Time Wot It Is

April 2017
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