Musta slept too long this morning

Because it's after 2 am and I'm still awake. But I've finished my Post NFA Spander. Yes. I said FINISHED.

So here you go:

Title: Deserted
Setting: Post-Not Fade Away
Rating: R to NC-17, depending upon your sensibilities
Author notes: Unbeta’d, except by the grammar and spell check--I apologize in advance for all the fragments, but that’s just how this one seemed to work its way out.


He sniffs and feels his nose cringe at the assault. A dank, musty, oniony odor. That's when he knows he's alive. He couldn't possibly be this offended by his body odor if he were dead, right?

" 'bout time."

That voice. Sounds familiar. Too familiar. Oh god. Please lord, do not let him have lived through this only to have to deal with...

"Gonna open your eyes anytime soon Harris?"

Shit.

************

It had taken him the better part of three days to wrap his brain around it. Everyone gone. Everywhere gone. All gone. Gone. Such a profound meaning carried in such a small word.

There was nothing left of California. There was nothing left of most of the western portion of America. Adolescent memories involving palm trees, blue skies, and the sandy Pacific coast, even the oppressive LA smog, would now forever be just that--memories. Entirely unrelivable, completely denied to any future generations.

And yet...

he was still here.

Xander looked at him. Hair glinting in the firelight, a small heat from embers they'd dared stoke inside the cave, sipping on his dented metal flask. And that was another thing, where'd he get the liquor? It was like the fishes and the loaves, only in alcoholic form. Just plain weird.

There were a lot of things Xander didn't understand these days, but Spike was the most problematic.( Continue reading )