Body Shots

08/10/2011

She was standing there in a tight tank top and a baggy pair of pants, holding a big old duffel bag and looking around like she’d just gotten back from some hell dimension and couldn’t quite believe she’d escaped it. Which is a pretty common look around here, now that I think about it.


Black Sheep Run

08/10/2011

The film of grime on the window obscures an already-nondescript view, bleeding and dulling the reds and oranges of the sunset and twisting the shape of the palm trees. If he lets his focus slip for half a second, it almost looks like home.


Ashes

08/10/2011

She has done this, brought this world to ruins. She thought it would be more satisfying.

Perhaps if she had intended it.


Acceptable Losses

08/10/2011

Wesley and Gunn and where it all went wrong.


Triptych

08/10/2011

Dealing with the weight of the end of the world, times two.


Traces

08/10/2011

He found her waiting tables in a nondescript town somewhere up the coast. He hadn’t been looking for her, or for anything, really. Aimless wanderings had taken him around the globe and back again in the years since the world had failed to end for the last time, and this was just another stop with which to mark time.


Interlude

08/10/2011

He’d expected more of a reaction.


Doubling In

08/10/2011

Really, if Angel had needed a Plartanian steel-tinged sword that badly, he could have driven to Sunnydale himself. Or bought it from Ebay.


Dark They Were

08/10/2011

His head felt like he’d tried to attack a busload of schoolchildren, and he wasn’t sure if it was the chip, the soul, or the vodka.


Compromises

08/10/2011

So this was the Slayer. Well, to get technical about it, a Slayer, thanks to a spell that sent ripples all the way to Hell and Lilah’s voice mail.