Lost Memories

Warning: Character Death! Not our main characters though, so please forgive me?

Dead. They were all dead. Well all except for Angel and himself. But, he couldn’t really count their continued survival as “life”. Gunn had been the first to fall, he’d been impaled on the sword of a Garesh Ka. Gunn had been a fierce fighter, but the demon had caught him from behind He and Gunn had never really gotten on too well, but he’d liked the man. Kinda like Harris, he didn‘t adore him, but he did admire his courage and willingness to fight in a battle that wasn’t really his. He had a lot of respect for the mere mortals who threw themselves in the thick of things. No real reason to do so except that they thought it was the right thing to do.

Harris had been luck only to lose an eye thus far. Gunn had lost his sister, and then his own life to the battle of good versus evil. He reached for the bottle on the bar in front of him. He silently toasted Gunn and took a long swig.

Next had been Illyria. Blue had been absolutely stunning. The precision and deadly force she exerted in battle was a sight to behold. She had sliced her way through demon after demon, covered in blood of various textures and colors. The look on her face was one of pure joy, her eyes had been shining, she’d had smile on her face, hell he was pretty sure he’d heard her laugh at one point in time. If you were going to wage a war with an evil law firm, Blue was definitely someone you wanted on your side.

She’d fought long and hard and he was sure that if it hadn’t been for her, they’d all be long gone. In the end it had taken four demons of various species to take her out. She’d taken two of them with her into death, and the other two had fallen at his hand shortly after. She’d died the death of a warrior and he knew that’s how she would have wanted it. Raising the bottle again, he toasted her and took another long pull of the amber liquid, enjoying the burn as it slid down his throat.

Lorne had been the last. He had taken off for greener pastures after their attack on the Circle of the Black Thorn, but he hadn’t gotten far. The day after the seemingly endless war in the alley he’d been found dead in a nearby hotel room. That was what had driven him here, to this bar. He needed to drown himself in drunkenness and wallow in their losses.

Angel had taken to brooding non stop and he was sure he’d heard him crying a time or two, but as much as he longed to humiliate the older vampire, he’d not said a word. He understood the man’s grief and knew his weakness was well earned. Angel, for his part had slain the dragon and moved on to slay various others beasts as well. He’d been seriously injured near the end and Spike had given his own limited blood to strengthen the man enough to get him back to the Hyperion.

Angel had looked at him in wonder as he slit his own wrist and lowered it to his mouth. He’d been on the verge of refusing, something that still had him reeling, but Spike was nothing if not persistent. Angel drank from him and then Spike had gentle cradled him as he carried him to safety. They’d taken too many hits, to their group as well as their own bodies to continue the fight. He’d left Angel just a few hours later and personally hunted down every soddin’ demon that had escaped his fury earlier in the night. He’d systematically killed them one by one, relishing in the kill.

They’d left scorched and destroyed buildings in their wake, but he knew it would all be tied up in a pretty bow to be delivered on the six o’clock news to the general public. No one outside of himself and his grandsire would mourn the loss of the three humans, one demon, and one hell god that had given all to save the world. But wasn’t that always how it was? True heroes fading into the background after their mission was complete, sometimes not even remembered at all.

He’d come here to get pissed, even told the bartender to leave the bottle, but he wasn’t anywhere near it, and didn’t think he would get there either. So far he’d taken a drink for each of his lost comrades, an extra one thrown in for Fred. Her body had died with Illyria, but her soul had been gone for weeks before. Just another Wolfram and Hart casualty. Someone long forgotten by everyone except himself, Angel, and her parents who would never know what had become of their sweet little angel.

He was hunched over the bar, peeling the label on his bottle when he suddenly felt someone standing directly behind him. Events as of late had him far more alert and on edge than normal, so he spun quickly to face his company. He was sure he looked rather comical sitting there with his mouth hanging open and his eyes bulging out, but she was the very last person on the earth he expected to see.