[open] If my heart could beat
Who: Spike (samianscar) and YOU!
When: Not long after this. (Left the clinic, or was kicked out, from hanging around Reid's bedside, and headed straight to-)
Where: Where else? The Foxhole.
Format: Paragraph, or whatever!
What: Dawn sorrow drownage.
Warnings: Drawn dorrow sownage.
After Drusilla left. After Fred died. After… himself… died. Every time he lost someone in whatever horrific graphic-novelly way, he'd go to a pub, order an aquarium, and drink to the interminable ending of the world.
…except after Buffy. That time, he'd gone to… Dawn.
Go on, tell him five or six years ago. That he'd fall in love with the Slayer? So vehemently wretch-inducing, if one paid attention to poetic irony, of course it had to come to pass. That he'd fight to reclaim his soul? Yeah, sure, why not, always been a rebel, even to rebellion, curve wreck the wreckage. That he'd wind up working for Angel? What goes around comes back around. Or something.
But that he'd become… a guardian… or something… to the little nibblet… who hadn't even existed at the time though of course it didn't feel that way now… that he'd care this much about someone who… didn't… be like any of the… in this…
Something somewhere had gone horrendously wrong, and all the Powers That Whatsit were howling with laughter.
Spike the bereaved caregiver. Hyeah. That was never gonna end well.
…Except the bad ending wasn't through any action of his. It was through lack of action. It wasn't because of his presence. It's because he'd left too bloody well alone.
He downs a pint and slams the glass too violently on the table. He hadn't actually meant to shake the whole bar and knock down the glass of the person at the other end, but why the hell not. Make something of it. I dare you.
When: Not long after this. (Left the clinic, or was kicked out, from hanging around Reid's bedside, and headed straight to-)
Where: Where else? The Foxhole.
Format: Paragraph, or whatever!
What: Dawn sorrow drownage.
Warnings: Drawn dorrow sownage.
After Drusilla left. After Fred died. After… himself… died. Every time he lost someone in whatever horrific graphic-novelly way, he'd go to a pub, order an aquarium, and drink to the interminable ending of the world.
…except after Buffy. That time, he'd gone to… Dawn.
Go on, tell him five or six years ago. That he'd fall in love with the Slayer? So vehemently wretch-inducing, if one paid attention to poetic irony, of course it had to come to pass. That he'd fight to reclaim his soul? Yeah, sure, why not, always been a rebel, even to rebellion, curve wreck the wreckage. That he'd wind up working for Angel? What goes around comes back around. Or something.
But that he'd become… a guardian… or something… to the little nibblet… who hadn't even existed at the time though of course it didn't feel that way now… that he'd care this much about someone who… didn't… be like any of the… in this…
Something somewhere had gone horrendously wrong, and all the Powers That Whatsit were howling with laughter.
Spike the bereaved caregiver. Hyeah. That was never gonna end well.
…Except the bad ending wasn't through any action of his. It was through lack of action. It wasn't because of his presence. It's because he'd left too bloody well alone.
He downs a pint and slams the glass too violently on the table. He hadn't actually meant to shake the whole bar and knock down the glass of the person at the other end, but why the hell not. Make something of it. I dare you.