Title: War and Peace
Author: PokerKitten
Rating: PG
Setting: Post finale, AtS Response to the LJ 15 Minute Ficlet challenge word – noisy
Disclaimer: Joss, ME, Fox, yadayada own the characters. I just mess with them.
War and Peace
A high pitched whining, like a distorted radio signal. After a few moments, a fierce booming, banging, providing a bass beat to support it. Monotonous, relentless....
So, Hell was going to be noisy as well as painful? He winced. And bright? White light flashed behind his eyelids, like bolts of lightning. But he couldn't seem to summon the strength to open them, to see just which level of Hell he had plummeted into.
And hot? Well, that was a given, wasn't it? Or it could have been icy, he supposed. But nothing in between, that's for certain. His whole body seemed to be burning! He gave an involuntary shudder. But no, not burning in an amulet and ashes way, not a dissolving to dust feeling. Just in a cold, hot, excrutiating, roasting kind of way. Hmmm, that was a touch traditional, wasn't it? Oh well, he had it coming, he supposed. That and much, much more. Whatever was thrown at him.
His body shivered again, but he still couldn't prise open his eyes. Or his mouth. Or move his fingers....
BOOMBOOMBOOM.
Oh, bugger! That could really start to get on a bloke's nerves! He really wasn't going to cope with this Hellfire and Damnation lark very well unless he pulled himself together! Panic rising against his will, a small squeak rattled in his throat as he felt something soft and wet pressing onto his tender flesh. Calm, calm, he told himself. You've been covered in all manner of bugs and beasties before. You came through that just fine... and soulful.
"Take it easy."
What? He could swear he'd heard a voice through the white noise, through the interminable pounding. A voice he knew.
"You're okay" the voice soothed.
Oh, now, this was a fresh twist! That voice, all gentle and full of care? Not bloody likely!
"Well, you will be okay" the voice continued. "It'll just take a little time. Not sure we have much, though."
Although he still couldn't quite open his eyes, Spike could almost see him biting his lip, anxious, glancing over his shoulder.
The moist cloth reached his cracked lips. BOOMBOOMBOOM. "What...?" he managed to croak.
"Illyria" his grandsire responded. "Grieving." He paused, sighed. So weary. "Cause a cave-in if she goes on like this."
It all rushed back, like watching a speeded up movie. The alley. The rain. The blood. The refugees from some stupid Dungeons and Dragons game. The dragon!
"Charlie?"
"We lost him...."
Yes, of course. They'd lost him. A tear escaped one closed lid, painfully meandering across his burnt cheek. And then Angel! They'd almost lost Angel, the dragon pinning him to the ground with fierce talons....
Silence. Another presence at his side.
"My pale one lives. But very damaged."
"He'll heal just fine." Angel was trying to sooth Illyria too. "He's not leaving us."
"How...?" Angel must be loving this, what with him only able to gasp out a single word!
But Spike could feel his smile as he responded, and the lightest of touches on his shoulder. "You saved me. Illyria saved you. All for one..."
He managed a soft snort of laughter. Some Musketeers they were! Just the three of them, then? To continue the fight. To battle on in an unwinnable war.
But somehow, this knowledge, the sense of purpose and identity and family, brought with it a remarkable peace.