there is always some madness in love

Valentine stood atop his tractor and watched as the world around him burned. There should have been an urgency to his movements but there wasn't. His kids were safe; he'd seen them at the meeting. Even Angelus, whose wanderings took him all over, had shown up after witnessing the eruption to check in and make sure the family was well. As far as Valentine knew everyone was alright which meant he had no one to worry about but himself. And he wasn't feeling particularly worried about his well being.

His gaze swept across the range. From his place atop the tractor he could see a great deal of it. How much of it would be left after the coming onslaught died down? What would remain after the fire that no doubt would sweep through here soon? Would what remained of the barn be gone? His tractor? The cellar? Would those things, the flowers, the weathered red paint, the stale hay, live on only in his memories? The thought pained him. Though Valentine had spent years away from here yucking it up in Auster not once had he ever considered another place home. This was home. Always had been, always would be. No matter how far he had gone he had always known he could return to this place. Not even the presence of another pack could have stopped him from returning.

This wasn't another pack though. Wolves he could handle. Show him a living breathing obstacle and he'd either plow through it or die trying. Fire, though? And a cloud bank spewing ash?

Valentine sighed, the sound ending in a wheeze as the air filled with smoke. It was beginning to get difficult to see his surroundings. A solid half of the range was hidden from his view. He could make out the vague outline of the barn and the nearby dips and hollows of the field, but beyond that everything became grey scale and flat before fading out entirely in the thickening smoke.

He didn't want to leave. Sentiment and all. He was an old man. A very old man faced with the possibility that he would never seen his home again. If he left this might be his last day here. Though he was loath to admit it Valentine knew he couldn't have that many days left in him. Old people who managed to survive their stupid mistakes and make it as long as he had tended to go to sleep one day and simply never wake again. He also knew the days ahead would be difficult and likely too much for him. Any number of things could bring him down. He didn't want the last image he had of this place to be it up in flames. He didn't want to see it in ruin either and there lay his dilemma. Perhaps he shouldn't have come to look at it before he left. Perhaps he should have just gone and grasped tightly the good memories he had of this place. Clearly it was too late for that; he was here watching the smoke roll in and the flames flicker through the dry grass.

So what did he want to do, then? It seemed silly to go down with the ship. Granted, it also seemed silly to pine over a piece of land. But did that stop him? Of course not; he'd done, thought and felt far stupider things throughout his life. He loved this place. This spot in particular. He'd raised kids here. Ruled here. Made love here. Valentine had a lifetime of memories for this spot alone. Though it was silly the thought of the tractor succumbing to the flames cut him as deeply as the loss of a friend.

Unable to tear himself away quite yet, Valentine lay down on the roof of the tractor. He watched as Lefty, who had been trying to be annoying to the end, buckled under the pressure of the coming flames and took off into the smoke. "Alright you old fool, you win," she called as she waddled off. Her flight gave him no small amount of satisfaction. Even if he couldn't get out now he'd die knowing he'd beaten her in the end. He had the stronger will. It was nice to know his stubbornness was good for something. Didn't matter he'd won a stupid prize. He'd still won.

It was beginning to get warm - this he noticed as a coughing fit over took him. Valentine could see nothing of his surroundings now. The world had narrowed down to him, the tractor, and the encroaching walls of smoke. It was time. He'd reached his stupidity allowance for the day. Hell, it was probably already too late to escape the flames.

In the distance he heard a wail. "Valentine!" the voice cried. "Help!" That fucking skunk.

Valentine leaned down and pressed his lips to the roof of the tractor in one final, ultra stupid gesture and then leapt from it into the smoke. He had a skunk to rescue.