Well, I finally got around to writing the last instalment in my “Life after Death" series. It’s been in my head for a good five years, but the COA nomination I got for Bloody Awful Poetry
kicked me in the butt to write this. Thank you, whoever it was, for the nomination.
Oh, and none of these characters actually belong to me. I just like playing with them.
It's been five years since they had set foot in this town.
Five years since their mad dash through the Scottish highlands one extremely
short summer night, five years since they found their Star-Crossed Childe, five years since their family was changed forever.
It was for the sake of the Star-Crossed Childe that they left their native shores, it was thanks to him that they rose above the masses of their kind, and now it was because of him that they returned. Before they met, they had been three average, run-of-the-mill vampires, Darleen, Liam, and Draupadi, barely scraping by in the underbelly of Old London Town. Now, they were the Scourge of Europe, Darla, Angelus, Drusilla and Spike, and the world in the know was quaking in its boots.
It had been a brilliant idea on Harry’s, no, wait, he goes by Spike now…it had been a brilliant idea on Spike’s
part to take on the names of the most feared of their kind to walk the Continent. Dangerous, true, but brilliant, and it had allowed them to pass the five most exiting years of their (un)lives, terrorizing the land, leaving a swath of blood and death behind them, to the point where people actually believed they were the same Scourge as of old rather than simple impersonators cashing in on someone else’s fame. Not too bad for a Nest whose total combined age was barely into its first century.
They had found a nice empty warehouse near the docks, and every night they would go out and hunt, taking turns to lure their prey back to their lair. Tonight, the youngest of their number was out, trolling the clubs, and soon he would return. His elders waited in anticipation, the Star-Crossed Child always found the best ones.
Of course, they could have never known.
Tonight was the night Spike would come face-to-face with his past. Tonight he would become Harry again.
Tonight was their last night.
Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind.
The past always comes back to haunt us
At this point, Life after Death dovetails into Bloody Awful Poetry, in London Calling Part 1
Thanks for reading, to show your appreciation, go vote for me!