Rosebud fic - The Flag
The Flag
Author: Ares
Rating G
Prompt: The Flag
Word count: Over 650. Sorry. I couldn’t pare it down any further.
Disclaimer: I wish they were mine, sadly, they belong to Joss.
“Truce, they say? Truce? I don’t believe it.”
“It’s a trick, surely?” Nick’s hand reached for the binoculars, but Simon moved out of range, his eyes still glued to the instrument.
“Do you see a flag?”
“Of course I see a flag,” Simon all but growled, intent on what was going on across the field.
Nick turned to where Mark was sitting. The poor guy’s leg was stretched out before him, bandaged, the pant leg in tatters. He looked like the leg was giving him hell.
On behalf of Simon, Nick offered a sort of apology. “They’ve fired an arrow into a tree. Attached to it is a piece of white material.”
“Can an arrow even fly, carrying a piece of cloth?” Mark asked, squirming about, trying to get comfortable. By the look on his face, Nick guessed he wasn’t successful.
“It’s handkerchief-sized,” Simon said, indicating that he had been listening. “They must have someone doing magicks.”
“Can they do that?”
“Small majicks only. I’d count that as small.”
“That’d be Willow,” said a voice from inside the tent. Angel. The sun was not quite set and he was unable to come out just yet.
“I thought she was on our side?” Mark asked.
“Somebody must have gotten to her.”
Everyone said, “Xander Harris.”
Then they heard the vampire mutter, “I knew he was evil.”
Simon had a thought. “Perhaps she is on our side. It is a flag of truce.”
“We’ve yet to hear from Buffy,” Angel reminded them.
“Right!” Simon handed the binoculars over to Nick, who pressed them to his face to have a look at what the enemy were doing across the way. “We’d better mobilise the men, then, just in case it’s a trick.” And when Mark struggled to regain his feet, Simon added, “Not you. You can barely stand.”
Trying hard not to fall over, Mark said, “You need everybody.”
“Every able body. Sit this one out.”
“Give him something he can do,” advised Angel from behind canvas.
“I can take messages, write notes,” Mark offered, sitting back down gratefully.
Simon glanced down the line of tired and weary men and women, and yelled out, “Louis!” When the man in question turned his head, Simon gestured for him to come to him.
“Give Mark your walkie talkie,” he said when Louis had arrived, “he’ll be relaying any messages.”
“You got it.” Louis’ smile was one of sympathy as he handed over his walkie talkie. “It’s the only one we have,” he reminded Mark.
“What about our cell phones?”
“You can’t always rely on a signal.”
Mark twisted his head up to find Angel standing beside him. The sun had finally set, releasing the vampire from his canvas prison.
“There is never a signal when you want one,” the vampire muttered, “and that could cost lives.” Angel surveyed the battlefield. His men were hunkered down in trenches, ready for the onslaught. It reminded him of the Great War, where millions of young men had lost their lives in similar-type trenches.
“Buffy!” Simon called, snapping Angel’s attention back to the present.
The vampire slayer was traversing no man’s land from the other side of the field. Her hands were empty. She wanted to parley. Angel strode out to meet her. There was a sparkle in her eye. She was smiling.
“I think we can call this a draw,” she offered. “And we’re sorry about the wounded.”
He nodded his agreement. “It’s no picnic out there. New watchers, and slayers, have to be prepared. There’s no point in mollycoddling them.”
She smirked. “You’re right. The girls like the war games. They say it’s way better than the traditional way of training.”
He grinned. “Battles, rather than books, any day, for the boys.”
Buffy reached out to snare his hand. “Your place, or mine?”
The end.