Scribes Of Angel

Fade

Just a few little snippets that I wrote about my perspective on conversations or situations that happened in Not Fade Away, as well as a few conversations or situations that could have happened. Enjoy.

Standard disclaimers apply.

Part I.

“You need to decide for yourselves if that’s worth dying for.”

The silence was too enormous for the room, and too fragile. Angel felt like he was destroying something vital with every word he spoke.

“I can’t order you to do this. Can’t do this without you. So we’ll vote, as a team. Think about what I’m asking you to do. Think about what I’m asking you to give.”

He thought of heroes. He imagined King Arthur, looking down the hill at the endless twinkling fires of the Saxon hoards. He wondered if Arthur had faced his generals and sent them to die as quietly as this.

He had never liked the word hero. He liked it even less today.

Angel thought of outliving them all, and it made him hope that this battle was long and furious and final. They deserved that from him.

Part II.

Gunn ducked, but not fast enough. Adrenaline kept him going for a long time.

He had always understood that heroes walked into the darkness alone and couldn’t always expect to come back out.

That was why he fought until he fell and couldn't get up. He died in the rain, face-down on the pavement, but he wasn’t sorry at all. It was the most oddly fitting ending he could have hoped for.

Part III.

Vail was almost sold. This was easier than Wesley had expected.

“Wait. It gets better.”

Under the table, the rotating globe of fire was pleasantly warm in his hand.

He smiled a little to himself. Wesley-the-Rogue-Demon-Hunter would have loved this.

Part IV.

Angel should have been bones in the earth years before Spike – William – was even born, yet they went on together to do unspeakable things, staging tragedies for other people – and for each other, because betrayal came easily – without ever being fully aware that they were scripting their own in the process.

“I like this one. We're gonna be the best of friends.”

Had he said that once?

He had not foreseen this. What a difference a century made.

Spike’s hand rose even as Angel turned to him.

“I’m in.”

Part V.

Illyria was motionless as the sun rose. The rain had stopped just before dawn.

There was no life. Everywhere she looked, there were nothing but huddled corpses, oily and dark in the early light.

She had had the voice of a god, once. Now there was no sound she could make that would tell the world how she grieved.

Part VI.

They pulled up to the curb and Lindsey killed the engine, peering out the window at a dingy apartment building.

“This is it.” He turned to look at Lorne. “Ready to raise a little hell?”

“Ready when you are,” said Lorne, sounding bleak.

“Cheer up, champ. We get to play in the All-Star game.”

Lorne signed as Lindsey got out of the car. Hesitating but a moment, he followed his lead. The gun inside of his jacket was dead weight against his chest.

Part VII.

There was a break in the onslaught.

Angel used the precious few seconds before the next wave of demons broke over them to mop water out of his eyes with his sleeve. He was getting tired.

Over the rain, he heard Spike’s voice. “Looks like this is it, then.”

Angel didn't turn around. “See you on the other side, Will.”

Then they were both lost once again in the furious masses.

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