Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Evil Angel ❯ home not heaven ( Prologue )

Evil Angel

By Nix

Disclaimers… I do not own Cowboy Bebop and I wrote this just for fun

Warnings… I'm a pro-survival person myself. So this is set after the twenty-sixth ep.. if you don't want to be at all spoiled for the end of the series.. I suggest not reading this. And Julia is.. well, not an angel in this story, at least not the good kind.. she's more complicated here. There may well end up being some yaoi, and maybe even a Jet/Spike/Faye trio pairing. *thinks* I think that's all I need to warn about. Samples of my stuff is at: www.onepinkrose.com

Evil Angel ~ Prologue

There was a moment. It didn't hurt. One step, his hand holding the gun, another step and he looked down. Red, all down the front, wet down his leg, distant and warm, but it didn't hurt. He was relieved, in some distant way. One star fell from the sky. Vicious died. Spike looked up from where he still stood and blinked slowly. The past played out in one eye, where he'd hidden Julia, Annie's death, lying to Jet, the shots that Faye had fired. One hand touched the opening in his suit, ruined suit. The odd feeling of skin not connected to other skin, sort of like a very thin hunk of meat. Dying. Another star twinkled in the sky still as he fell forward. The fall traced through the air for him, so slowly, and he knew absolutely. He didn't want to die.

The world lost color anyway, and he found the stairs a soft bed. Like sleep slipping over him, as if this were just a nap, he found himself listening for the comforting sounds that tarnished the inside of the Bebop, Faye's complaining, her card playing, the slight hydraulic sound of Jet's arm, even Ed's typing, these were the comforting sounds his fading mind sought. Home. He wanted to go home, not to heaven now that his honor was clean, but home. He let out a slow breath, moist and warm, blood from his sliced abdomen having crept up into a nick in one lung perhaps, now to slip over lips that he couldn't feel anymore.

"Oh Spike," Julia's voice whispered, "Oh Spike. You were supposed to be faster than he was."

"Julia." The single word came out too mangled, his mouth too full and wet, head too light. "Julia, we are together."

"We were together, yes," she said, gentle fingers brushing dark green hair away from his face. "You have done so well, my knight, but I will not be your nurse this time."

His eyes focused again, or maybe it was just that he opened them, to find himself staring at boots, black and polished, with red dragons starting at the toes and curling back up around perfect female legs. Julia, but… not Julia. "Hurry," she said, in her voice, the voice he remembered, but with nothing even slightly vulnerable or soft in it. It was the voice of the Red Dragon's evil angel. "Do not let him die."