Disclaimer: Cowboy Bebop is the property of Bandai Entertainment.
Spoiler Warning: This isn't really strictly speaking a fanfic, or even a story. It's more of a, well, a descant intended to kind of overlay Spike's memories from Ballad of Fallen Angels. If you haven't seen that episode, this is probably going to make no sense whatsoever. If you have seen it, then you're already not going to expect this to make sense anyway, right?
I also haven't seen beyond the episodes that are currently commerically available, so I don't know the whole background to the Spike/Vicious/Julia triangle. Since no one else seems to either, I feel absolutely no remorse about making things up.
Consider yourself warned.
One more thing. Just to clear up any lingering confusion: it's not descent. A descant is a musical term, meaning "an ornamental melody or counterpoint sung or played above a theme."
Shards of glass rain down towards me, the colors reflecting the light of the streetlamps like a glittering fall of diamonds, like rose petals drifting through the mist-laden air.
Above me rises a face framed by pale hair, achingly familiar even from the ever-increasing distance.
Long blonde hair framing a beautiful face-
-no, that wasn't right at all. Wild strands of pale hair caught in the wind, lifting away from the sharp high angles of the cheekbones and the cruel mocking tilt of the mouth.
Why did it have to come to this? Why did everything have to change?
Drops of blood spill over my eyes, painting the falling glass in crimson.
The shots of a gun, the absence of Vicious' familiar form guarding my back.
Alone, deserted, beaten.
A halo of light framing a rescuing angel on a dark rainy night. A halo of gunfire and blood framing a demon from the past, laughing as he fades away from sight.
Pain, pain chased away by the crystalline sound of the angel's song. The song haunts my dreams, a wordless lullaby to calm my tattered soul safely into sleep.
Pain chased away by the devil's rough hands sliding over smooth naked flesh, callused from years of sword practice. Hands that could be so gentle and loving. Hands that could kill, the ultimate betrayal to the one whom mattered most, the one who gave us both a chance at life.
Pale hair caught the light, one turning golden as her smile under the flickering lights in the smoky bar, one turning sliver in the moonlight as it fell across the dark skin of my chest.
"When angels are forced out of heaven they become devils."
No, Vicious, no, it didn't have to be this way. We had choices. We all had choices. Why couldn't you just see…?
"I'm just watching a bad dream I never wake up from."
Every night is the same. Every night when I close my eyes; her song and his face. Ghosts from the past come to haunt me. I'm dead and gone to them.
Why can't the past just die?
I'm incredibly nervous about this one, since Cowboy Bebop fanfics don't seem to exist. Therefore I'm absolutely dying for any comments at all. Really I am.