Title: Sheltering Sky
Author: PokerKitten
Rating: G
Setting: Response to the picture challenge (#12) at 15 Minute Ficlets on LJ – (Sunset at Manhatten Beach Pier.... Won't let me link to the pic)
Angel, S5. Near to the end, but without explicit finale spoilers.
Disclaimer: Joss, ME, Fox, yadayada own the characters. I just mess with them.
***********************************
Sheltering Sky
The world was so beautiful; stunning, even at moments like these. And hateful.
Incredible oranges, pinks, lilacs..... The colours could distract but not compensate for all the suffering he had inflicted, the losses he had endured. But the glorious evening sky gave him something else on which to fixate, momentarily diverting his mind from the struggle. From the enormity of what was yet to come.
Although eerily deserted on such an amazing night, the pier seemed to offer him sanctuary. The sound of the ocean lapping against its stanchions was calming; rhythmic, like the heartbeat that he should have owned. Its tangy aroma helped clear his head, even if a small part of him longed to fill his lungs with this refreshing air, to breathe it in and out, not from habit but necessity.
All the incredible sights he'd seen; all the terrible and wonderful things he'd done. What once had been, what could have been, what might still be....
He sighed, sensing movement behind him. Couldn't the bloody bint leave him be?
"Why do you risk yourself in this way?" she – it – demanded to know. Genuinely curious; loathe to lose another of its strange creatures quite yet.
"Sun's gone down; no risk."
"Making yourself absent. That is a risk, in these times." Closer now. Persistent.
He half-turned, glowering not at the shell of his dear friend but at the power that had invaded her body, destroyed her. "Sometimes a bloke needs his own space. Which Fred would have known. Which you would know if you weren't so feeble-minded!"
Illyria cocked its head. "Feeble-minded? You are mistaken...."
There was a time the right royal pain in its godly ass would have climbed up on its high horse and ranted about respect, power, the death and destruction it could wreak. But not now, he noted. "Yeah, whatever." He turned his face back out to sea, appreciating the warm, subtle touch of the soft breeze on his cheek, drying the single tear that now glistened there.
"He told me to let you brood a little longer" Illyria observed.
"I never said brood."
Spike permitted himself a small smile. No, he wasn't much given to brooding; that was Angel's forte.
"Leave him be" Angel continued, reaching out to take hold of Illyria's arm. "He'll come back when he's ready. When he knows it's time."
Illyria stared at the hand, but tolerated the touch. "You are certain of that." Not a question. Illyria understood that this was Angel's honest belief.
Spike took one last, lingering look at the fading but still comforting sunset sky. "Apocalypse is coming, ready or not" he said, levering himself to his feet. "Time to fight the good fight."
*****************
Incredible oranges, pinks, lilacs..... The colours of the flames as the fantastical creature bore down on them, nostrils flaring.
He stood firm, glanced at his grandsire stony-faced alongside him. No, he wasn't ready. Wasn't ready to die another fiery death! They weren't ready....
Author: PokerKitten
Rating: G
Setting: Response to the picture challenge (#12) at 15 Minute Ficlets on LJ – (Sunset at Manhatten Beach Pier.... Won't let me link to the pic)
Angel, S5. Near to the end, but without explicit finale spoilers.
Disclaimer: Joss, ME, Fox, yadayada own the characters. I just mess with them.
***********************************
Sheltering Sky
The world was so beautiful; stunning, even at moments like these. And hateful.
Incredible oranges, pinks, lilacs..... The colours could distract but not compensate for all the suffering he had inflicted, the losses he had endured. But the glorious evening sky gave him something else on which to fixate, momentarily diverting his mind from the struggle. From the enormity of what was yet to come.
Although eerily deserted on such an amazing night, the pier seemed to offer him sanctuary. The sound of the ocean lapping against its stanchions was calming; rhythmic, like the heartbeat that he should have owned. Its tangy aroma helped clear his head, even if a small part of him longed to fill his lungs with this refreshing air, to breathe it in and out, not from habit but necessity.
All the incredible sights he'd seen; all the terrible and wonderful things he'd done. What once had been, what could have been, what might still be....
He sighed, sensing movement behind him. Couldn't the bloody bint leave him be?
"Why do you risk yourself in this way?" she – it – demanded to know. Genuinely curious; loathe to lose another of its strange creatures quite yet.
"Sun's gone down; no risk."
"Making yourself absent. That is a risk, in these times." Closer now. Persistent.
He half-turned, glowering not at the shell of his dear friend but at the power that had invaded her body, destroyed her. "Sometimes a bloke needs his own space. Which Fred would have known. Which you would know if you weren't so feeble-minded!"
Illyria cocked its head. "Feeble-minded? You are mistaken...."
There was a time the right royal pain in its godly ass would have climbed up on its high horse and ranted about respect, power, the death and destruction it could wreak. But not now, he noted. "Yeah, whatever." He turned his face back out to sea, appreciating the warm, subtle touch of the soft breeze on his cheek, drying the single tear that now glistened there.
"He told me to let you brood a little longer" Illyria observed.
"I never said brood."
Spike permitted himself a small smile. No, he wasn't much given to brooding; that was Angel's forte.
"Leave him be" Angel continued, reaching out to take hold of Illyria's arm. "He'll come back when he's ready. When he knows it's time."
Illyria stared at the hand, but tolerated the touch. "You are certain of that." Not a question. Illyria understood that this was Angel's honest belief.
Spike took one last, lingering look at the fading but still comforting sunset sky. "Apocalypse is coming, ready or not" he said, levering himself to his feet. "Time to fight the good fight."
*****************
Incredible oranges, pinks, lilacs..... The colours of the flames as the fantastical creature bore down on them, nostrils flaring.
He stood firm, glanced at his grandsire stony-faced alongside him. No, he wasn't ready. Wasn't ready to die another fiery death! They weren't ready....