A day in the... Spike? [closed/multiple/both!]
Who: takesthings, photosbythebed, samianscar [multiple threads]
When: -ever you like!
Where: WHERE INDEED! (He'll run into Faith and Lilly wherever's convenient for them. His thought process is looping tonight so same set-up works everywhere.)
Format: Choose your own!
What: Have been plotting Spike scenes with folks that I keep failing to initiate, so I'm being unbelievably lazy and self-centered (and a teensy bit punchy) and putting them all into one multiple-thread log! Yes? Okay? …Anyone…?
Warnings: ENJOY OR DIE!/Cake or death? <-punchiness
Funny where pain does and doesn't decide to turn up.
Spike is doing this patrol shift alone. Just a vampire an' his leather coat. Cruising the foggy streets, not at all pining for a good old-fashioned graveyard-seriously, Anatole? Call yourself proper gothic? Bodies evaporating and reanimating is no excuse. We're talking tradition. Setting. Anyway, sod it; now thinking of nose-diving into the ruins for a lark.
But not long ago he'd had a partner. Emotionally, historically, collegiately, mutually, even officially. Still does, in a way.
(Actually has two; but there's a shift changeover from night to day, Patrolling to PIing; and it's still night, so let's focus for now on the one who's-)
But she's been otherwise occupied… and he's been pre-post?-emptively drifting.
He'd thought this would be a cause of pain unimaginable.
Instead… most of what he feels is…
Don't call it "relief". It isn't relief. But it ain't "resignation" either. It's… gotta be alliterative… also be true: "release".
There was always an inevitability about this. Even if Angel hadn't turned up. The possibility he could would never've gone away.
Y'know what, stake me, but would rather deal with an actuality than a possibility. Anticipation blows.
So, sod it more. Having a soul makes the damndest differences. Some of which are considerably less fun than not having. …All of them, in fact. But can be useful, make some more sense of things. One of them is: where reaching equals pushing.
Still working on the right phrasing.
But more important, for now, to work on the not reaching.
So here he is. Gumshoeing along. Looking for trouble. Or monsters. Or new people. As long as it's no one he knew from back home, and certainly no one blond.
When: -ever you like!
Where: WHERE INDEED! (He'll run into Faith and Lilly wherever's convenient for them. His thought process is looping tonight so same set-up works everywhere.)
Format: Choose your own!
What: Have been plotting Spike scenes with folks that I keep failing to initiate, so I'm being unbelievably lazy and self-centered (and a teensy bit punchy) and putting them all into one multiple-thread log! Yes? Okay? …Anyone…?
Warnings: ENJOY OR DIE!/Cake or death? <-punchiness
Funny where pain does and doesn't decide to turn up.
Spike is doing this patrol shift alone. Just a vampire an' his leather coat. Cruising the foggy streets, not at all pining for a good old-fashioned graveyard-seriously, Anatole? Call yourself proper gothic? Bodies evaporating and reanimating is no excuse. We're talking tradition. Setting. Anyway, sod it; now thinking of nose-diving into the ruins for a lark.
But not long ago he'd had a partner. Emotionally, historically, collegiately, mutually, even officially. Still does, in a way.
(Actually has two; but there's a shift changeover from night to day, Patrolling to PIing; and it's still night, so let's focus for now on the one who's-)
But she's been otherwise occupied… and he's been pre-post?-emptively drifting.
He'd thought this would be a cause of pain unimaginable.
Instead… most of what he feels is…
Don't call it "relief". It isn't relief. But it ain't "resignation" either. It's… gotta be alliterative… also be true: "release".
There was always an inevitability about this. Even if Angel hadn't turned up. The possibility he could would never've gone away.
Y'know what, stake me, but would rather deal with an actuality than a possibility. Anticipation blows.
So, sod it more. Having a soul makes the damndest differences. Some of which are considerably less fun than not having. …All of them, in fact. But can be useful, make some more sense of things. One of them is: where reaching equals pushing.
Still working on the right phrasing.
But more important, for now, to work on the not reaching.
So here he is. Gumshoeing along. Looking for trouble. Or monsters. Or new people. As long as it's no one he knew from back home, and certainly no one blond.