![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Jul. 4th, 2004
The beauty of the rain is how it falls...
Jul. 4th, 2004 11:33 pmBecause the zine these were originally for isn't being produced any more. And, hey, if I have them, then I may as well annoy you guys with them *grin*
Title: Moments In Time: Oceans
Author: Claire
Pairing: None yet, although I'm all about the Angel/Wesley
Rating: PG
Creeping along the corridor, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce brings the crossbow to rest against his leg. He's followed this demon across what seems like the breadth of America, and now he's closing in he has no intention of letting it slip through his fingers again. Never mind that the thoughts running through his head are nothing to do with the demon he's hunting. Never mind that all he can think of is that this is the closest he's been to Sunnydale since he left. The closest he's been to the scene of his greatest failure since he fled after the Ascension. He's buried himself in the hunt ever since. And he's good at it, has captured and killed more demons in the past few months than he ever did working for the Council. A shiver runs through him at the thought of the Council. He remembers lying in a hospital bed after the Mayor had attacked the graduating class of Sunnydale High. Remembers fighting alongside a Slayer who had done nothing but flout his authority from the moment he arrived. Remembers sneaking out of his bed on several nights to another ward, a ward where said greatest failure lay comatose, her dark hair fanned out against the pillow of the crisp hospital bed. Remembers holding her hand and talking to her softly. And then he remembers the night the Council visited. Quentin Travers and his flunkies surrounding the bed, not even giving him the dignity of facing them on his feet.
( Leaning against the wall, Wesley tries to shake the thoughts out of his head... )
Title: Moments In Time: Oceans
Author: Claire
Pairing: None yet, although I'm all about the Angel/Wesley
Rating: PG
Creeping along the corridor, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce brings the crossbow to rest against his leg. He's followed this demon across what seems like the breadth of America, and now he's closing in he has no intention of letting it slip through his fingers again. Never mind that the thoughts running through his head are nothing to do with the demon he's hunting. Never mind that all he can think of is that this is the closest he's been to Sunnydale since he left. The closest he's been to the scene of his greatest failure since he fled after the Ascension. He's buried himself in the hunt ever since. And he's good at it, has captured and killed more demons in the past few months than he ever did working for the Council. A shiver runs through him at the thought of the Council. He remembers lying in a hospital bed after the Mayor had attacked the graduating class of Sunnydale High. Remembers fighting alongside a Slayer who had done nothing but flout his authority from the moment he arrived. Remembers sneaking out of his bed on several nights to another ward, a ward where said greatest failure lay comatose, her dark hair fanned out against the pillow of the crisp hospital bed. Remembers holding her hand and talking to her softly. And then he remembers the night the Council visited. Quentin Travers and his flunkies surrounding the bed, not even giving him the dignity of facing them on his feet.
( Leaning against the wall, Wesley tries to shake the thoughts out of his head... )
The beauty of the rain is how it falls...
Jul. 4th, 2004 11:33 pmBecause the zine these were originally for isn't being produced any more. And, hey, if I have them, then I may as well annoy you guys with them *grin*
Title: Moments In Time: Oceans
Author: Claire
Pairing: None yet, although I'm all about the Angel/Wesley
Rating: PG
Creeping along the corridor, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce brings the crossbow to rest against his leg. He's followed this demon across what seems like the breadth of America, and now he's closing in he has no intention of letting it slip through his fingers again. Never mind that the thoughts running through his head are nothing to do with the demon he's hunting. Never mind that all he can think of is that this is the closest he's been to Sunnydale since he left. The closest he's been to the scene of his greatest failure since he fled after the Ascension. He's buried himself in the hunt ever since. And he's good at it, has captured and killed more demons in the past few months than he ever did working for the Council. A shiver runs through him at the thought of the Council. He remembers lying in a hospital bed after the Mayor had attacked the graduating class of Sunnydale High. Remembers fighting alongside a Slayer who had done nothing but flout his authority from the moment he arrived. Remembers sneaking out of his bed on several nights to another ward, a ward where said greatest failure lay comatose, her dark hair fanned out against the pillow of the crisp hospital bed. Remembers holding her hand and talking to her softly. And then he remembers the night the Council visited. Quentin Travers and his flunkies surrounding the bed, not even giving him the dignity of facing them on his feet.
( Leaning against the wall, Wesley tries to shake the thoughts out of his head... )
Title: Moments In Time: Oceans
Author: Claire
Pairing: None yet, although I'm all about the Angel/Wesley
Rating: PG
Creeping along the corridor, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce brings the crossbow to rest against his leg. He's followed this demon across what seems like the breadth of America, and now he's closing in he has no intention of letting it slip through his fingers again. Never mind that the thoughts running through his head are nothing to do with the demon he's hunting. Never mind that all he can think of is that this is the closest he's been to Sunnydale since he left. The closest he's been to the scene of his greatest failure since he fled after the Ascension. He's buried himself in the hunt ever since. And he's good at it, has captured and killed more demons in the past few months than he ever did working for the Council. A shiver runs through him at the thought of the Council. He remembers lying in a hospital bed after the Mayor had attacked the graduating class of Sunnydale High. Remembers fighting alongside a Slayer who had done nothing but flout his authority from the moment he arrived. Remembers sneaking out of his bed on several nights to another ward, a ward where said greatest failure lay comatose, her dark hair fanned out against the pillow of the crisp hospital bed. Remembers holding her hand and talking to her softly. And then he remembers the night the Council visited. Quentin Travers and his flunkies surrounding the bed, not even giving him the dignity of facing them on his feet.
( Leaning against the wall, Wesley tries to shake the thoughts out of his head... )