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Thank you very much!!!
Many many thanks to the kind anonymous person who gave me paid LJ time. *hug* It's greatly appreciated. Thank you. *beams*
A while back I started work on a post-NFA fic. I posted one chapter, but then went back to older WIPs that were more entitled to a continuation.
Here's a tiny exerpt from an unposted chunk that takes place after the death of the dragon. It's not much, and still a bit too plain (it needs dialogue), I know, but I hope you like it anyway, whoever you are. I'd add to it, but today my brain is offline. Maybe I'll do something with this chunk at a later date. Here's hoping.
With the dragon slain, and Angel dragging Gunn to safty through some kind of portal, and hard pressed by more uglies than they stood a chance against, Spike and Illyria ran. Their head-long flight led through alleys and parks, across scrap heaps and rail-tracks. But no matter how often they tried to double back or create false trails, no matter how many enemies they ambushed and killed, the Senior Partners' hench-demons stayed on their heels. In the end Illyria grabbed Spike by his collar and hurled him at a passing freight train. He cracked a rib, but managed to hold on, dangling precariously from a narrow ledge, trying to find somewhere inside him the strength to pull himself up. Moments later Illyria jumped on herself, and raced from roof to roof, before grabbing his wrist and hauling him up. She punched a hole into the freight car's roof and peeled it back like a banana skin.
At their feet, cattle stirred restlessly, an auburn sea of warm, churning bodies. They climbed down, slowly, so as not to frighten the sleepy animals, claimed a small corner for themselves, and slept, not knowing where the train would take them, but too exhausted to care.
A while back I started work on a post-NFA fic. I posted one chapter, but then went back to older WIPs that were more entitled to a continuation.
Here's a tiny exerpt from an unposted chunk that takes place after the death of the dragon. It's not much, and still a bit too plain (it needs dialogue), I know, but I hope you like it anyway, whoever you are. I'd add to it, but today my brain is offline. Maybe I'll do something with this chunk at a later date. Here's hoping.
With the dragon slain, and Angel dragging Gunn to safty through some kind of portal, and hard pressed by more uglies than they stood a chance against, Spike and Illyria ran. Their head-long flight led through alleys and parks, across scrap heaps and rail-tracks. But no matter how often they tried to double back or create false trails, no matter how many enemies they ambushed and killed, the Senior Partners' hench-demons stayed on their heels. In the end Illyria grabbed Spike by his collar and hurled him at a passing freight train. He cracked a rib, but managed to hold on, dangling precariously from a narrow ledge, trying to find somewhere inside him the strength to pull himself up. Moments later Illyria jumped on herself, and raced from roof to roof, before grabbing his wrist and hauling him up. She punched a hole into the freight car's roof and peeled it back like a banana skin.
At their feet, cattle stirred restlessly, an auburn sea of warm, churning bodies. They climbed down, slowly, so as not to frighten the sleepy animals, claimed a small corner for themselves, and slept, not knowing where the train would take them, but too exhausted to care.
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v. nice, intriguing.
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I wish I had more time to write. I lost the ability to be productive at night - and my days are just too busy these days. *whine*
I wish I could tilt the house enough for the rest of the family to gracefully slide out through the door - an eject seat or sofa would be cool too. I want a week on my own. Desperately.
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Dealing, LTAS, Spangel AU...
and then!
:-)
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So glad you even remember that bit. :-)
Thanks.
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Spillyria 4vr!
Loved it, need more, please.