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DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters or the mythology from Buffy: the Vampire Slayer or Angel. I’m just using them temporarily since Joss and company won’t need them for a while…. I’ll give them back whenever he needs them again.
RATING: PG-13 to R …but probably nothing worse than the show.
SPOILERS: The entire fifth season of Angel (particularly the Finale ‘Not Fade Away‘)…so if you haven’t watched it…this probably won’t make much sense. Oh, and the final episode of Buffy: ‘Chosen’
AUTHOR’S NOTES: If you feel as though you have read this before, you’re probably not wrong. I had this up right after Angel ended, but I took it down after I lost the urge to write it…But now…the urge is back. I’ve gone back and reworked it so it’s gonna be a little different than I originally planned.
To Keep Fighting
Los Angeles, California USA
There was blood everywhere. On the ground; on the walls. The entire alley was covered in it. Drenched. This was the scene of a battle. A battle to try and stop the end of the world. But it’s over now. And they made it through.
A leather-clad man stepped up to the body of the large dragon amongst the remains of the hundreds of demons; looking over his handiwork. The man was barely able to stand due to his fractured leg and other various injuries, including a large gash in his side. There was also blood running down his face from several large cuts. His exhaustion was evident on the sharp lines of his face. He was saturated with blood. Some his own, some the enemies he had slain. Sighing, Spike reached down and pulled the sword out of the dragon’s neck. Then, using the sword to help support his weight, he surveyed the damage done. How he was able to survive the fight was beyond him.
He wondered if the others made it through the battle. He turned around, looking for another familiar face. He found himself face to face with the Old One. “You’re bleeding,” Illyria said, her blue eyes studying the vampire before her.
Spike looked at her, biting back a sarcastic remark. Now was not the time for that. “So are you,” he replied instead, pointing to the blood making it’s way down her temple; her only open wound, the rest having already healed.
Illyria reached up and touched her wound. Bringing her hand to her line of vision, she noted the blood, and tilted her head. “So it appears.”
Spike began to move around the demons, wanting to find the other two. See if they made it. He and Illyria made their way to the other side of the alleyway, and spotted him. All twisted, torn; eyes staring into space. Spike grimaced at the scene before him and kneeled next to him. Next to Gunn. Sighing, Spike reached up and closed his eyes. “Poor bastard. Didn’t stand a chance,” he said, not in malice, but in respect.
Illyria looked at the vampire, something akin to compassion on her face, but one could never really tell. “He died fighting,” she said. “An honorable death.”
Spike stood next to her. “That it is, love. Still…”
“You claimed not to appreciate him; referring to him by various detestable monikers…and yet you mourn him,” she observed. Spike opened his mouth in protest, then closed it, deciding not to deny it. Illyria tilted her head, as if she was thinking. A confused expression crossed her features. “As do I.”
Spike looked to her, equally confused. Were the memories of Fred affecting her more than they believed them to? Spike decided that they did not have time at the moment to ponder such thoughts and began looking around the alleyway for a sign of the older vampire. Any sign would do.
The sound of rubble being pushed around alerted both Spike and Illyria. They turned and saw a hand make it’s way out of the debris.
Spike began to limp over to wear the older vampire was buried. Illyria rushed ahead of him and began to lift the debris off Angel. Once enough of the debris was gone, Illyria reached down and pulled Angel to his feet. He rubbed his head, trying to shake off the headache he now bore. The majority of his injuries were superficial and already stopped bleeding; the only major wound was the large gash that ran from his shoulder to the middle of his back. When he regained some of his composure, he looked to the two in front of him. “…Gunn…?” he asked, not really wanting to hear the words but knowing inside what had happened.
Spike glanced to the ground as did Illyria. Their silence was enough for Angel. “He died a hero,” he finally said.
“They both did,” Spike said, remembering the former watcher.
The three stood in silence, not entirely sure what to do. Eventually, Illyria turned away from the vampires and surveyed the damage before her, a single tear making it’s way down her face. Noticing the odd sensation, she reached up and wiped it away. She looked to the sky idly wondering if it had started raining again. It hadn’t, so she glanced at her hand. Not blood, she thought to herself. What is this? She sniffed it and cocked her head. “Not water,” she whispered quietly.
“Where to now?” Spike asked, breaking the silence that was threatening to deafen them.
Angel sighed, shrugging. “England.” Spike looked to him, silently asking him why. “We need to tell Giles and…Wes’s father. He needs to know how his son died.”
Spike nodded, agreeing with Angel’s choice. “Back to the Mother Country it is then.”
Chapter one should be up later tonight…I already have it written for the most part… Please review…I think that may be the only way to get me to write….: )