Being ill all the time has made me feel somewhat morbid. I’m still plodding on with my WIPs but I’ve been thinking along somewhat different lines some of the time. Here is a 100-word drabble that will be the beginning of a full-length fic eventually once I’ve finished one or two of the WIPs. AtS S5. Rating PG-13 but it’s not one of my funny ones. At all.
To Rain in Hell
The rain lashed down. It washed the blood from the limp body of Charles Gunn. It swept away the dust of Angel the King and of Spike her Pet, turning it to mud, sending it into the gutters as no more than a discoloration of the water. Nothing was left of them. Nothing. Nothing.
Illyria raised her face to the rain and screamed out her pain and loss. She clenched her fists and looked around for something on which to vent her fury. There were no demons remaining. No dragon. No giant. Only their blood and ichor. And the rain.