it's a bad dream, no one on my side

[askedtobe]

Peter's first thought, after making sure that Emma and everyone else was okay, was how could he get out of New York, and what was the fastest way to do it. He couldn't spent another day here, not after spending five years of his subconscious life stuck with Sylar in a New York that had very quickly stopped feeling like home. And now the real one

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[rudolphofvamps]

"--lo?" Spike sounds bored, having not looked at the call ID, but the noise interference is almost unbearable. Not only the normal city sounds come over the phone, echoing back at Peter, but do the mighty roars of unidentifiable creatures and a few small explosions. Then the clash of a sword so that Peter might catch onto the fact that Spike is fighting one of the creatures from earlier, just one vamp walking home to his crypt -- nothing to see here. "Who's 'at?" he asks after a minute of radio silence, trying to refocus. He had never been good at multitasking.

[askedtobe]

Peter catches on fairly quickly to the fact that Spike's busy with all manner of hell-beasts, and he almost contemplates saying never mind altogether, hanging up and letting Spike carry on. But he reminds himself why he called in the first place, and just how badly his apartment is the last place he wants to go to right now.

"Hey, it's Peter." Ducking his way into some alley where he can actually hear, Peter tries to keep too much of the tired edge out of the sound of his voice, but it's hard and he's running low on the adrenaline it takes to keep himself even marginally okay.

[rudolphofvamps]

"Pete? Hey." Warmer now, cursing at one of the demons. Couldn't they see he was on the phone. "It's been a while, mate." He hissed, just barely getting out of the way, some acid-mucus eating up the pavement where he'd just been standing.

[askedtobe]

"Yeah, I know." Staring down at his shoes, Peter scuffs at the sidewalk, already not wanting to say his next few words. It doesn't help that Spike's so obviously in the middle of something, and the last thing Peter wants to do is become someone else's burden. His own hesitation might not be evident to Spike, but it's glaringly obvious to him. "Can I ask you for a favor?"

[rudolphofvamps]

That gives Spike pause, not because he has to think about it but because Peter sounds off somehow and now he's worried. "Bloody--!" He shakes his sword at the creature, then flies at it, cutting off its head so he can talk to Peter without its constant distraction. That's better, he thinks, slinking off into the shadows. "Name it," he pledges, a sharp contrast to the anger of twelve seconds ago.

[askedtobe]

Peter had been equally as distracted by the violence, and he blinks a few times, the sudden quiet on the other end of the line making his ear buzz. He doesn't know why this is so hard, and it shouldn't be, but Sylar was the last person he asked for help, and look where it had gotten him. It all just added on to making him feel infinitely more pathetic, but in the end, he still couldn't stop himself. "Could I come stay with you, just for a day or two, maybe? I kind of need a break. From New York." And from life, he left out.

[rudolphofvamps]

Of all the requests, Spike hadn't been expecting that one. He wipes some demon blood from his face, wishing he had more to offer than this dank, dusty space. "All I've got is a crypt, but you're welcome to it." And just now Spike's getting home, stone door creaking behind him.

[askedtobe]

Peter snorts, tipping his head back against the wall he'd been leaning against. Watching absently as someone walks past on the street, now that he's asked it, Peter sighs quietly, feeling at least one miniature weight lifted off his chest. "Something tells me my place isn't much better. All i'm looking for is a floor to sleep on."

[rudolphofvamps]

"Can do you one better. I've got a couch." There's a smile in his voice now, glad he could do something for Peter, even if it's small and kind of worthless.

[askedtobe]

"I don't even have one of those." It wasn't as funny when he said it out loud; it in fact had never been funny, but Peter clears his throat, already setting himself on edge to make the hop over. "You sure it's okay?"

[rudolphofvamps]

"Don't exactly have anyone else to loan it to." He knows that's not what Peter means, tossing his coat over a chair and flopping over on said couch, already toeing off his boots. "I'm sure."

[askedtobe]

"I'll be there in a minute." Hanging up, he figured he didn't even need to say goodbye if he'd be showing up there shortly. Tossing one last wayward glance out towards the bustling street, Peter meanders his way back further into the shadows of the alley, not exactly wanting someone watch him seemingly pop out of existence.

And then he's gone, reappearing in some nondescript graveyard. Which really doesn't do much for his mood, considering the last cemetery he'd been in was because of Nathan's funeral. Forcing his attention forward, Peter swallows back the sudden swelling of grief and tells himself to walk the few feet it requires to get to Spike's front door. Once again, though, he hesitates when it comes to knocking. All it takes is pulling one of his hands out of his pockets, and yet even that sounds exhausting.

[rudolphofvamps]

Before Peter can knock, Spike smells his approach. That crisp and smoky aftersmell of worldhopping lingering behind. Spike would know it anywhere. "S'unlocked," he calls, flopping over on the couch so he can see the door.

[askedtobe]

Peter's not really sure if that makes it easier or not, but he's trying not to think about it too much. At least going inside means he'll get out of the cemetery and so he takes a breath and opens the door, leaning into it with his shoulder.

Setting his sights on Spike, trying to muster up a forced smile at this point even seems ridiculous, so he doesn't try, instead just settling for a subdued, "Hey," before shutting the door behind him.

[rudolphofvamps]

"Hello yourself," he says, unable to keep himself from looking Peter over. He clearly hadn't been eating, or sleeping. And he already knows he'd been absent from the community. He thought Peter had up and quit or gotten dropped altogether, but now he's here and Spike feels a little better, just for knowing in tangible proof that Peter's alive.

He shoves over on the couch, making room as he continues to watch him. Figuring Peter will spill soon enough, he puts his feet up on the table and settles in to listen. "Was surprised to hear from you." His voice is soft denoting he definitely wasn't disappointed.

[askedtobe]

Crypt or not, Peter was automatically toeing out of his shoes, nudging them out of the way before making his way on over to the couch. He was well aware he looked like a complete mess and any effort going towards covering that up would have been a complete waste. He was still reeling, backtracking five years of his life that hadn't really happened and the past few months having torn him apart was the least of his concerns. Just the past week alone had been enough to push him over the edge.

Dropping down onto the couch though, Peter looked over at Spike and let go of a long exhale. Admittedly, despite the gloominess of the surroundings, Spike was comforting. That much he couldn't deny. "I didn't have anyone else." And that he couldn't deny either, leaning up against the opposite side of the couch and trying to backtrack. "Sorry for disappearing."