| Giddiup by Michelle |
| The last rays of the hot sun shone down on the earth. Only the beginnings of a cool night breeze offered respite from the heat. Off to one side of the street, deep in the sweltering shadows, stood a solitary man. Sweat poured off his skin, yet he was comfortable and distant from the environment around him. He was quite a sight, or would have been to anyone looking at him. A tan wide-brim hat rested on his head, covering up his rich brown hair. From underneath the brim deep chocolate brown eyes stared out into the dusty road. Worn blue jeans, a white button-up shirt, and a tan leather duster that ended at mid-calf covered his tall, muscular frame. Resting on his hips was a pair of six-shooters, hidden by the duster. On his feet were brown leather boots that made no sound as he walked in the darkness. All in all, he looked like a cowboy version of his namesake - an angel. When the sun was completely bellow the horizon, Angel left the confines of the shadows and stepped onto the street. Something was going to happen, he knew it. It lingered in the air like a cloud, teasing with possibility. The few that were still on the streets had no idea of this presence, so it was up to him. But first, he needed something to eat. Carefully he made his way to the butcher shop, keeping his senses aware of what was around him. Many young up-starts tried to make their name by killing him. It should have made him sad to think of all those dead at his hands, but it didn't. They knew the chances and still came after him. It was only right they suffer the fate they had decided for him. "Hey, Sam," he said as he walked into the butcher shop. "Howdy," the butcher greeted, whipping his hands. "Right regular like clockwork, you are. Everyday soon after the sun goes down. I wish all my customers were like you." No, you don't, Angel thought, but only smiled and said, "I do what I can." Sam laughed and pushed a brown bag towards the cowboy, who in turn placed a small amount of money into the extended hand. Carefully Angel picked up the bag, holding it like it was the most precious thing in the world. In his usual slow style he made his way to the door. With his hand on the knob, he paused and spoke over his shoulder. "I can trust on your discretion." It was a statement, not a question. "Don't you worry. Ol' Sam knows how to keep a secret." The butcher knew there was a threat hanging between them, but chose to ignore it. Nevertheless, as soon as Angel left the store Sam rushed over and locked the door. The cowboy heard the sliding into place of the deadbolt and smiled grimly. Sometimes fear could be your best ally. When people are afraid of something, they tended to leave it alone. That was fine with him, for he liked to be by himself, without others. Once again he merged with the shadows, walking behind buildings into those darker than the ones he had previously inhabited. As soon as he was encased in darkness, he opened the bag and removed two cups. Quickly he drank what was in them, careful not to spill a single drop. A single beam of light illuminated the raise ridges, yellow eyes, and long fangs on his face. Tossing the cups aside his fierce features shifted back to his passive, handsome face. The pigs� blood he bought from Sam would satisfy the vampiric side of his nature for the night. It was time to find that trouble he had sensed. Angel found the trouble behind the saloon in the form of a white-blond haired man and one of the women from the saloon. The man had his arms around the woman, pinning her to his body, with his face buried in her neck. She was struggling, but her efforts were in vain and draining her strength. "Let her go," Angel growled, his hands resting on his revolvers. The man looked up with a low growl, vampire features evident on his face. Almost instantly he broke out into a toothy grin. "Angel!" he exclaimed, dropping the now unconscious woman to the ground. "You know, it's so hard to have a relationship with a woman when you're around." "Spike. I never pegged you as a guy who wanted a meaningful commitment." Keeping the grin in place, Spike shifted his face back to a more human appearance. Yet his eyes still contained a murderous gleam that kept people from thinking he was anything but a monster. Which is what he was - a monster. "Look at you," the blond said, "all big and manly with your hat and guns. A vampire cowboy. What's next, vampire detective?" "What are you doing in my town, Spike?" Angel had learned long ago to ignore the other man's jabs. It knocked him down a few knocked when his insults created no visible pain and suffering. Moving his long black duster out of the way, Spike stepped over the now dead woman. It gave Angel a brief view of the red shirt Spike had worn ever since he was turned. "Can't a guy come visit a mate and get a bite to eat, all normal like?" The question caused Angel to snort. "We haven't been 'mates' for a hundred years. What are you doing in my town?" Spike snapped his fingers, summoning two other vampires out of the darkness. No light was needed to see their game faces. "I didn't know this was your town, mate. My colleagues and I were just passing through. But now that I know you're here - well, who am I to pass up a chance to kill you?" Instantly the two minions attacked Angel, knocking him to the ground. Bringing his legs up, he kicked with all his strength, sending the two flying. They hit the wall of the saloon with a loud thud. He quickly flipped to his feet, pulling his revolvers out at the same time. A click resounded as he cocked the guns and leveled them at his attacker's hearts. " You've been around mortals too long. Well, what are you waitin' for?" Spike yelled at the other vampires. "Bullets can't kill you, bleeding idiots." They looked at each other for a minute, then shrugged and charged at him once more. Before they got 100 feet, Angel pulled the triggers. The ammunition lodged in their hearts, turning the vampires to dust a moment later. " Wooden bullets," Angel explained to a dumb-founded Spike, "dipped in holy water. More effective than a wooden stake, I find." He then lifted his right hand and shot the gun again. The bullet went clean trough Spike's chest, only an inch away from his heart. " That is a warning." Slowly he slid his gun into the holster, while Spike sank to the ground in pain. "Get the hell out of my town, or the next one goes straight into your heart." Not sparing his childe another glance, Angel turned and left the alley. Light from the moon banished shadows from the street he walked on. The ground beneath his boots crunched softly with each step. The night was young, he was a vampire with a soul, and he was worked up from the encounter with Spike. Weighing those facts in his mind, he directed his body to his next activity. Angel, vampire cowboy, was off to brood. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I got the idea for this fic, which is my first one (that's why it's so green) from the "Angel" episode In the Dark. In it, Spike says, "Cuz you're Angel, vamp dectective now? Ooh, I'm so scared. What's next? Vampire cowboy?" When I heard this, I was struck down with laughter. When I got up, I realized it would make an amusing story. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ back to the archive |