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
08/10/2011The 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
08/10/2011She has done this, brought this world to ruins. She thought it would be more satisfying.
Perhaps if she had intended it.
Traces
08/10/2011He 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.
Doubling In
08/10/2011Really, 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
08/10/2011His 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
08/10/2011So 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.