Five drabbles: Elemental Angel
Title Elemental Angel
Author Brutti ma buoni
Rating PG
Word Count 5 x 100
Prompt 173-176 Earth, Air, Fire, Water, all elements
Characters/Pairing (if any) Angel (Darla, Buffy, Xander, Wesley)
A/N: A complete posting in canon order of five linked drabbles written for still_grrr this month. Though they can be read separately, I think they work best together.
He is born from the earth which was his tomb. It doesn’t heave and press him forth like a birthing mother. It’s his enemy, requiring him to claw and struggle. Filling his eyes, painful. Filling his lungs, irrelevant.
Already, he knows his new life is very different. The earth is the symbol. The woman awaiting his birth is confirmation. Not a mother, but a lover, delectable. A teacher, encouraging. An inspiration, devouring. His first kill gives her pleasure, as great as his first tooth, or smile, or word.
He wants to find his previous mother. Send her back to earth.
*
Air is an irrelevance. He can exist underground, underwater, while the air is full of fumes. Act to save the breathing humans, when there is no air.
He would have lost his breath if he had any, seeing her there in the water. Still, small girl in white.
Rest in peace.
But the boy isn’t losing his breath. He’s acting, disturbing the tragic tableau. Wrenching Buffy onto her back. Asking Angel to act too, to give life.
Angel is a death dealer. Life’s air is alien to him. When he says he has no breath, he believes it simple truth.
*
Fire is fear. Fire is the enemy; he learned this lesson in hell. Repeatedly. Darla once left him in fear and fire. Fire set by Holtz, then.
Holtz has brought fire now too, to Lorne’s place of peace. Determined to deal death to the dead killers. Determined, if he knows it, that evil will not bring life into the world.
The heat builds, relentless and devouring. Flames follow them as they flee into the streaming water of the outside. Exquisite relief; paralysingly complete despite their continuing danger.
They may die here, before the birth. But at least they won’t burn.
*
He is being born from the water which was his tomb. Sent there by his unnatural son, miracle born and raised in hell. In the deeps, he never believed he would rise again. Who would expect to return so very many times? Sometimes, he wonders if he can ever die.
No mother for this re-re-birth. A father, suckling him with lifeblood.
A new father; who stole his son. Angel doesn’t want to take his tainted unrelated traitorous blood. Cannot resist. His dead body knows the nourishment it needs.
He wants to find his son. Bring them both back to life.
*
The earth is rising. Giving new birth to old, terrible life. The deadly hordes advance.
He is among his fading friends. Facing death, he’s streaming water again. Staring into the advancing fires.
“Personally, I want to slay the dragon.” Bravado in words, become bravery in action, when he finds he can do justice to the speech.
Forward, swing the blade. Grab the scales, try to strike home true. The beast moves, shifts flight-preparatory muscles.
This time, when he dies, it will be in the air. Perhaps this time it will be the last.
Or will there be one last rebirth?
***
Author Brutti ma buoni
Rating PG
Word Count 5 x 100
Prompt 173-176 Earth, Air, Fire, Water, all elements
Characters/Pairing (if any) Angel (Darla, Buffy, Xander, Wesley)
A/N: A complete posting in canon order of five linked drabbles written for still_grrr this month. Though they can be read separately, I think they work best together.
He is born from the earth which was his tomb. It doesn’t heave and press him forth like a birthing mother. It’s his enemy, requiring him to claw and struggle. Filling his eyes, painful. Filling his lungs, irrelevant.
Already, he knows his new life is very different. The earth is the symbol. The woman awaiting his birth is confirmation. Not a mother, but a lover, delectable. A teacher, encouraging. An inspiration, devouring. His first kill gives her pleasure, as great as his first tooth, or smile, or word.
He wants to find his previous mother. Send her back to earth.
*
Air is an irrelevance. He can exist underground, underwater, while the air is full of fumes. Act to save the breathing humans, when there is no air.
He would have lost his breath if he had any, seeing her there in the water. Still, small girl in white.
Rest in peace.
But the boy isn’t losing his breath. He’s acting, disturbing the tragic tableau. Wrenching Buffy onto her back. Asking Angel to act too, to give life.
Angel is a death dealer. Life’s air is alien to him. When he says he has no breath, he believes it simple truth.
*
Fire is fear. Fire is the enemy; he learned this lesson in hell. Repeatedly. Darla once left him in fear and fire. Fire set by Holtz, then.
Holtz has brought fire now too, to Lorne’s place of peace. Determined to deal death to the dead killers. Determined, if he knows it, that evil will not bring life into the world.
The heat builds, relentless and devouring. Flames follow them as they flee into the streaming water of the outside. Exquisite relief; paralysingly complete despite their continuing danger.
They may die here, before the birth. But at least they won’t burn.
*
He is being born from the water which was his tomb. Sent there by his unnatural son, miracle born and raised in hell. In the deeps, he never believed he would rise again. Who would expect to return so very many times? Sometimes, he wonders if he can ever die.
No mother for this re-re-birth. A father, suckling him with lifeblood.
A new father; who stole his son. Angel doesn’t want to take his tainted unrelated traitorous blood. Cannot resist. His dead body knows the nourishment it needs.
He wants to find his son. Bring them both back to life.
*
The earth is rising. Giving new birth to old, terrible life. The deadly hordes advance.
He is among his fading friends. Facing death, he’s streaming water again. Staring into the advancing fires.
“Personally, I want to slay the dragon.” Bravado in words, become bravery in action, when he finds he can do justice to the speech.
Forward, swing the blade. Grab the scales, try to strike home true. The beast moves, shifts flight-preparatory muscles.
This time, when he dies, it will be in the air. Perhaps this time it will be the last.
Or will there be one last rebirth?
***