I’m back at work now and my writing time will be drastically curtailed for the next four days. I have a chapter of ‘Tabula Avatar’ half done, and I have begun the second of the ‘Dollar Trollogy’ and might get it finished in the next day or two, but otherwise the most that you’ll get will be silly drabbles and shorts. Such as this 500-word piece that examines one way that the alley battle at the end of ‘Not Fade Away’ might have worked out.

That is, if Joss had written it whilst listening to 80s music and smoking something illegal.

Deer Boy

The battle in the alley went well for the Fang Gang at first. The enemy hordes were overly eager and charged impetuously. The dragon, swooping to the attack, sent searing flames through the ranks of its own allies. As it pulled out of its dive the giant, infuriated by what it thought to be treachery, lashed out with its huge club and smote the dragon a dreadful blow. The dragon crashed to the ground, its wing broken, and set upon the giant with fang and claw.

Angel put aside his intention of killing the dragon and concentrated on the foot soldiers of the enemy. He sliced a bloody path through their disorganized ranks. Spike, determined not to be outdone, wreaked equal carnage. Gunn more than held his own. Illyria did more violence, punching through chests and ripping off heads, and made Angel and Spike seem almost restrained by comparison.

The dragon died under the blows of the giant’s club but left its opponent mortally wounded. The demon horde fell back before the onslaught of Angel’s team. It was beginning to look as if they were going to win.

And then a fresh wave of attackers appeared. Disciplined and ordered ranks under the command of the Senior Partners in person. Wolf, that savage personification of wild rage. Ram, lustful and determined, who under his alias of The Immortal had delighted in copulating with those most dear to Angel and Spike, in between his excursions up Everest on a unicycle. And Hart, alias Cernunnos the Horned God, the Piper at the Gates of Dawn, driving on the demon infantry with his wild and frenzied music.

Angel and Spike were forced back on the defensive. Gunn narrowly escaped death and had to shelter behind the vampires. Things looked bleak.

Illyria ran along the top of the chain link fence, leaped down, and seized Hart. Her hands clamped on his antlers and she began to twist with irresistible force. A demon who ran to his master’s aid was kicked away with such power that his hurtling body felled an entire rank of his fellows. Hart’s neck vertebrae began to crack.

Suddenly Wolf howled out an entreaty. “Please stop! We concede!”

“Let Hart go,” Ram bleated. “We’ll pull back. It doesn’t matter about the Black Thorn. We’ll officially disband it and your membership will be null and void with no penalties. You can have a severance package from the Los Angeles branch of our firm on the same terms as if it was a human operation and the parting had been by mutual consent. Just get her to release Hart.”

“I don’t trust you,” Angel growled. “You’re willing to give up just because we have one of you?”

“This vermin is valuable to you?” enquired Illyria. She applied sufficient pressure to keep Hart immobilized but refrained from completing the final twist to snap his neck.

“He is,” Wolf confirmed. “He is absolutely irreplaceable.”

“Yes,” agreed Ram. “A good Hart these days is hard to find.”