Prologue in Blue
Title: Prologue in Blue
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Angel the Series belongs to Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt. Big Bang Theory belongs to Chuck Lorre and Bill Prady.
She decided to take a stance and say she hated alleyways.
Or, she would be saying that if she wasn’t curled up on what seemed to be the extremely dirty ground shivering uncontrollably. Completely naked.
Couldn’t forget that. Couldn’t forget the feeling of her fist easily passing through the Warlocks head, he deserved much worse for her Wesley’s death.
Her hands formed claws in her hair and she bit her lip, she didn’t know whether she was trying to control the memories or the tears. It didn’t matter because she lost either way and her body shook more in its fetal position as the memory of towering over her army of minions who both loved and feared her. She could crush a whole section of them with one of her blue tentacles purely on a whim and they would still follow her, their God King Illyria.
Fred swallowed hard and carefully untangled her shaking hands from her hair and looked at them carefully flexing them in front of her face.
No blue. She let out a relieved breath that turned into a hiccupping laugh. That turned into laughing uncontrollably when she realized how similar her actions were to when a certain blue Old One set up shop.
Oh god, here she was butt-naked in a dirty alleyway in who-knows-where, laughing like a loon. She had finally completely lost it.
About damn time.
The thought, however true only served to make her laugh harder. But living in a cave a hell dimension, working for a supernatural detective agency, “dying” by way of having your insides liquefied for the resurrection of an Old One, being trapped in your own body and having to watch while all of your friends self-destructed, your Wesley dies, and finally they were being overwhelmed. The alleyway was an easily defensible location but the demons outnumbered her group hundreds to the one. As she stepped on the back and removed the spine of a particularly mucus covered demon she saw her Pet take a hit out of the corner of the eye. With deadly accuracy she threw the spine skewering his bull like opponent though the head and giving him time to get up. He gave her a cocky smirk of thanks before jumping back into the fray. She however, was frustrated. They were not winning. If only she were not limited to this shell. Wesley had limited her to this shell for safety, but that mattered little now. She ignored the sickening, almost human emotions that she should not be able to have and continued her thought as she almost absentmindedly kicked one demon’s knee out while ripping out a vampire’s throat. With his death, and the way magic affected her due to her nature his spell might corrode over time. How much time needed post mortem was debatable, but there was only one way to find out. Illyria smirked.
The world exploded in blue.
Fred was still shivering, giggling, and crying to herself when the proper authorities found her, ten minutes later.