These two Drabbles were written for the open_on_sunday group on Live Journal. The idea was one mood, one hundred words.
(Spike POV AtS Season 5)
Itís a ritual I donít much care for. Every morning I find him sitting in his office, staring at the sunrise. I join him, we make polite conversation about battles coming, battles won, battles lost.
Sometimes we talk about the Shanshu, sometimes about Darla and Drusilla, occasionally he lets his thoughts about his son slip in and I pretend to ignore them, feigning ignorance because itís what he wants.
A thousand words a day, shared here in this uncomfortably sunlit room, sun that always make me shiver even though it canít touch me.
But we never talk about her.
The flames are finally dieing down. The air is starting to clear and I can smell that a few of them have been left alive. Blood drips from nearly every inch of my body, pooling on the ground, mingling with vampire dust and fallen ashes. I drop the sword and leave.
I walk back to the charred remains of my car, looking for a mirror left intact. I pick it up, ready to turn it over, hopeful that this was the final apocalypse, that the battle is finally done, and that my reflection will finally return my gaze and smile.