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11.11.11

poppies
Because I like to think Spike remembered too.


Just Dust

The crowds had gone, scutters of leaves hurried down Whitehall as Big Ben sounded three in the morning. The scarlet gash of poppy wreaths around the Cenotaph looked like fresh blood under the street lights.
A dark shadow slid along the pavement from doorway to doorway. Spike looked up the white column, reading the words The Glorious Dead inscribed into the stone that gleamed as white as freshly drained flesh.
He was remembering a younger, sillier self, Liam, a submarine, and what he’d ended up doing in the last years of the War. He remembered the vamps who’d died for their country. Not glorious, just dust. But patriotic dust.

Comments

( 8 comments — Leave a comment )
elisi
Nov. 11th, 2012 07:35 pm (UTC)
Somehow that last sentence makes me laugh, in a 'Oh-Spike, how much do I love you? Let me count the ways' way...

Really, loved this to absolute pieces.
desdemonaspace
Nov. 11th, 2012 07:59 pm (UTC)
Very well done, and quite moving. I love your Spike.
curiouswombat
Nov. 11th, 2012 08:23 pm (UTC)
Perfect for the day, and the vampire.
debris4spike
Nov. 11th, 2012 08:28 pm (UTC)
I love this - and think that Spike would remember.

"Lest we forget"
slaymesoftly
Nov. 11th, 2012 08:46 pm (UTC)
Lovely, and of course he would!
petzipellepingo
Nov. 11th, 2012 09:24 pm (UTC)
That's our boy.
rahirah
Nov. 12th, 2012 01:25 am (UTC)
Ah, yes...
mrs_tribble
Nov. 12th, 2012 10:31 am (UTC)
Love it.
( 8 comments — Leave a comment )

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lilac2
lilachigh
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LILACHIGH’S FICTION - if you’ve enjoyed my stories you will find more, including Cousin Arabella and Never Alone on my fiction only site - lilachigh2

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