(Untitled)

[stilljustandrew]

*He gets back to HQ in time to check around, make sure neither Angel nor Gunn is around to require awkward explanations.*

*Spike will probably need one. Oh well. No help for it.*

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[bloodndnicotine]

Spike opens the door to what's passing for home these days and holds it for River to precede him -- one part the deeply obsolete courtliness that she seems to bring out in him, and one part "don't let the bleeding Slayer get behind you with a stake."

[river_meimei]

River studies for an instant before she enters, and perhaps she's thinking something of the same thing from the other side.

Then she lifts her chin and enters, straight-backed.

That precarious, half-wary dignity lasts through her first sight of the messy room she finds herself in; it's rather like a college student's living room, all dingy furniture and half-unpacked boxes, although most of those don't have such large (if discreet) weapons chests. When it falters into a low gasp and taut, clear hope, is half a second later, when she sees Andrew.

(He doesn't just look like Andrew, or sound like him. It's the same one, current timeline, from Milliways, and that's the first right thing this whole night.)

[stilljustandrew]

*He gets up off the ratty old couch as they come in, and steps around the paper-strewn coffee table.*

River -- how'd you get here? Are you okay?

[river_meimei]

River's eyes drop, darting sideways; one hand rises to twist near her temple, fingers stiff and splayed, while the other arm presses against her torso.

"The angels," she mutters, "have teeth. They weren't what they are."

"You can hear the chimes. Lock the doors."