Broken Wings
Title: Prologue
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Characters: All
Word Count: 1,008
Rating: FR-R
Summary: Set immediately after Not Fade Away. What if the demon army was just a warm up?
Author's Notes: This piece is Spuffy centric and contains character death.
Prologue
Demon carcasses lay in pieces all around them. The alley reeked of death and destruction, not to mention a few less than pleasant smelling creatures. Layer upon layer of demon flesh oozed different colors of blood on the pavement. The blending of hues might have seemed artful, even lovely under normal circumstances. But the decay of hundreds of demons was anything but artistic. The heroes, or what was left of them, stood amidst the chaos and waited tensely, as though the bodies of their foes could yet rise up to strike them down.
The sound of a metal lighter flicking open broke the silence. The amber glow of the flame illuminated a blood smeared face, contorted into the mask of the vampire. Spike growled appreciatively as he lit his cigarette and took a satisfying drag. He held it for a moment before blowing it out slowly, relishing the feel of it.
“Now that was fun.” His voice seemed loud in the darkness and the others flinched. They were beyond the point of exhaustion, and wounds, both large and small, complained bitterly.
Gunn sagged against a dumpster. For a moment, he was grateful that the stink of the garbage covered the choking smell of the demons. At least this stench was something familiar. Something safe. “You call that fun? We’re lucky to be alive.”
“Gunn’s right.” Angel stood stock still, staring down at his fallen enemies. “I’m amazed to be here, to tell you the truth.” He spoke quietly, without emotion. “The senior partners must be losing their touch.”
“Balls. They haven’t lost anything. They just didn’t know what they were up against.” Spike strutted as best he could, the effect being somewhat marred by a rather pronounced limp. Blood dribbled from many other small wounds, leaving a trail behind him. He stood up straight, not wanting to seem quite so much smaller than his sire. He smirked at Angel, blowing smoke in his face. “You don’t mess with the Big Bad. I reckon they’ve learned they’re lesson, they have.”
“Spike, don’t be a fool. This couldn’t be all they had to offer.”
A cool, feminine voice suddenly spoke from the shadows further down the alley. “Couldn’t be all?” Illyria walked calmly out of the darkness to stand beside Angel. With the exception of a rather large gash across one cheek, she seemed relatively unharmed. “They wasted their army. Threw them uselessly at our feet. They are peasants. It demeans me. They have insulted my strength by showing such a meager opposition.”
“Meager opposition?” Gunn stood as best he could, wincing and clutching at his side. “Okay, call me crazy, being the only super-powerly challenged person here, but that was not what I’d call meager opposition. I’d call it a damn good attempt at wiping us out. I mean, we lost Wes, isn’t that enough? And I notice none of you are exactly doing back flips right now.”
Illyria cocked her head to one side. “Back flips. Is that the appropriate thing to do after victory? In the old days, we would eat our enemy’s heart right from their chest.”
“’Ello to the imagery there, Big Blue.” Spike chuckled. “I’d settle for a bottle of tequila and a nice shag right about now, but maybe that’s just me.”
“Shag? What is the meaning of that?”
Spike grinned in a feral way. “Maybe I’ll show you some time.”
“As fascinating as this discussion is,” Angel interrupted, “I think we should really be going. If nothing else, I’d like to get out of the stench for awhile.”
“Party-pooper,” Spike grinned.
“I’m with Angel,” Gunn said, grunting with effort as he moved away from the dumpster. “Besides, I know I can’t handle a second wave right now, so, if it’s coming here, I’d rather be elsewhere.”
Angel nodded. “You have a point. Alright, let’s get moving.”
Limping and stumbling, the four moved slowly down the alley and out towards the main streets. They knew they couldn’t go home. That would be too obvious. But there were always places to hide, and that was what they intended to do for the time being. They all needed time to rest and heal before they went into whatever their next battle would be.
None of them noticed the single shadow on top of the building overlooking the alley. Even if they had looked up, there was no way to tell for sure if the shape was that of a gargoyle, or something more sinister, until it moved. Opening its wings, it glided from building to building, following its prey as quietly as the wind. When they reached the more populated areas of the city, the hunter paused. It now stood a good chance of losing them, as they moved through the crowds. No human bothered to look at the four struggling, bleeding individuals. So much easier for them to pretend not to see, and continue on in their hopelessly normal lives. The creature had no choice but to follow on foot.
It jumped from its perched and floated quietly down into the dark alley beside the building. Lowering into a catlike crouch, the demon grunted with effort, and its wings melted away into the flesh of its back, as though they had never been there. Small horns on the top of its head shrank down until they, too, had completely vanished. Slowly, it stood. With hurried steps, it exited the alley to continue the chase. A light from a street lamp fell, for the briefest moment, on the creature’s figure. She was a young woman, clad in black, from the tips of her toes to the base of her chin. The only skin showing was that of her face and a large diamond on her back, through which her wings had sprouted. Her short brown hair slid forward to hid her eyes as she glanced around, seeking her prey. They had not gone far, and they stank of blood. Her targets in sight, she melted into the limited shadows surrounding the street and followed.
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Characters: All
Word Count: 1,008
Rating: FR-R
Summary: Set immediately after Not Fade Away. What if the demon army was just a warm up?
Author's Notes: This piece is Spuffy centric and contains character death.
Prologue
Demon carcasses lay in pieces all around them. The alley reeked of death and destruction, not to mention a few less than pleasant smelling creatures. Layer upon layer of demon flesh oozed different colors of blood on the pavement. The blending of hues might have seemed artful, even lovely under normal circumstances. But the decay of hundreds of demons was anything but artistic. The heroes, or what was left of them, stood amidst the chaos and waited tensely, as though the bodies of their foes could yet rise up to strike them down.
The sound of a metal lighter flicking open broke the silence. The amber glow of the flame illuminated a blood smeared face, contorted into the mask of the vampire. Spike growled appreciatively as he lit his cigarette and took a satisfying drag. He held it for a moment before blowing it out slowly, relishing the feel of it.
“Now that was fun.” His voice seemed loud in the darkness and the others flinched. They were beyond the point of exhaustion, and wounds, both large and small, complained bitterly.
Gunn sagged against a dumpster. For a moment, he was grateful that the stink of the garbage covered the choking smell of the demons. At least this stench was something familiar. Something safe. “You call that fun? We’re lucky to be alive.”
“Gunn’s right.” Angel stood stock still, staring down at his fallen enemies. “I’m amazed to be here, to tell you the truth.” He spoke quietly, without emotion. “The senior partners must be losing their touch.”
“Balls. They haven’t lost anything. They just didn’t know what they were up against.” Spike strutted as best he could, the effect being somewhat marred by a rather pronounced limp. Blood dribbled from many other small wounds, leaving a trail behind him. He stood up straight, not wanting to seem quite so much smaller than his sire. He smirked at Angel, blowing smoke in his face. “You don’t mess with the Big Bad. I reckon they’ve learned they’re lesson, they have.”
“Spike, don’t be a fool. This couldn’t be all they had to offer.”
A cool, feminine voice suddenly spoke from the shadows further down the alley. “Couldn’t be all?” Illyria walked calmly out of the darkness to stand beside Angel. With the exception of a rather large gash across one cheek, she seemed relatively unharmed. “They wasted their army. Threw them uselessly at our feet. They are peasants. It demeans me. They have insulted my strength by showing such a meager opposition.”
“Meager opposition?” Gunn stood as best he could, wincing and clutching at his side. “Okay, call me crazy, being the only super-powerly challenged person here, but that was not what I’d call meager opposition. I’d call it a damn good attempt at wiping us out. I mean, we lost Wes, isn’t that enough? And I notice none of you are exactly doing back flips right now.”
Illyria cocked her head to one side. “Back flips. Is that the appropriate thing to do after victory? In the old days, we would eat our enemy’s heart right from their chest.”
“’Ello to the imagery there, Big Blue.” Spike chuckled. “I’d settle for a bottle of tequila and a nice shag right about now, but maybe that’s just me.”
“Shag? What is the meaning of that?”
Spike grinned in a feral way. “Maybe I’ll show you some time.”
“As fascinating as this discussion is,” Angel interrupted, “I think we should really be going. If nothing else, I’d like to get out of the stench for awhile.”
“Party-pooper,” Spike grinned.
“I’m with Angel,” Gunn said, grunting with effort as he moved away from the dumpster. “Besides, I know I can’t handle a second wave right now, so, if it’s coming here, I’d rather be elsewhere.”
Angel nodded. “You have a point. Alright, let’s get moving.”
Limping and stumbling, the four moved slowly down the alley and out towards the main streets. They knew they couldn’t go home. That would be too obvious. But there were always places to hide, and that was what they intended to do for the time being. They all needed time to rest and heal before they went into whatever their next battle would be.
None of them noticed the single shadow on top of the building overlooking the alley. Even if they had looked up, there was no way to tell for sure if the shape was that of a gargoyle, or something more sinister, until it moved. Opening its wings, it glided from building to building, following its prey as quietly as the wind. When they reached the more populated areas of the city, the hunter paused. It now stood a good chance of losing them, as they moved through the crowds. No human bothered to look at the four struggling, bleeding individuals. So much easier for them to pretend not to see, and continue on in their hopelessly normal lives. The creature had no choice but to follow on foot.
It jumped from its perched and floated quietly down into the dark alley beside the building. Lowering into a catlike crouch, the demon grunted with effort, and its wings melted away into the flesh of its back, as though they had never been there. Small horns on the top of its head shrank down until they, too, had completely vanished. Slowly, it stood. With hurried steps, it exited the alley to continue the chase. A light from a street lamp fell, for the briefest moment, on the creature’s figure. She was a young woman, clad in black, from the tips of her toes to the base of her chin. The only skin showing was that of her face and a large diamond on her back, through which her wings had sprouted. Her short brown hair slid forward to hid her eyes as she glanced around, seeking her prey. They had not gone far, and they stank of blood. Her targets in sight, she melted into the limited shadows surrounding the street and followed.