holidays in the sun

[idolstolemylook]

Spike's days had taken on a fairly hum-drum rhythm: there was minding his business, minding the shop, and minding the Little Bit, and the real difference between the three was the presence of alcohol, demon ass to kick, and Dawn

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[ouroborosdance]

Inside the store just attached to that awning, there's a young woman, very tall, very slender, in very high heels. She's otherwise practically dressed for autumn, although she is also ridiculously Parisian chic about it (half French, she says, and style isn't genetic).

She's also a little more attuned to fire and smoke than the average girl, and so she leans out of the dark doorway to regard...whatever is going on, with mild concern. That sounded painful. There's a soft tsk, sympathetic, and she beckons the stranger with a tilt of her head.

"That's no good. Come away from there, it's cooler over here."

[idolstolemylook]

Spike, of course, was more worried about his jacket. He beat at it another few seconds, then looked up.

"I like a bit of warning before bein' whisked into broad daylight," he said, stepping further into the shadows. "What gives?"

[ouroborosdance]

"Oh, I'm not responsible, I'm afraid. But this does happen." Not, generally, to Hasibe herself, but she is crazy enough to come here on purpose. Often.

"I'm very sorry it seems to have...burnt you, though. That's unusual." Her tone is sincere, although she moves on pretty much immediately after. "Where were you, just before?"

[idolstolemylook]

Spike shrugged it off. "Naw, just a big singed is all," he said, lighting up a cigarette. "Don't you worry your pretty head about me." He smirked in a way that worked on some people. "What, exactly, is it that jus' 'happens'?"

[beenthroughhell]

Tara knew she shouldn't use Xanadu as an escape so often, but she couldn't seem to help it. Today, she was in the Agora, half shopping for seeds, half secretly hoping she'd run into Ethan.

The familiar voice was a different one, though, and she cut over a street to find him. "...Spike?"

[idolstolemylook]

Spike glanced up sharply from the odd little crafts he'd been examining, wondering when the sun would go down and let him hightail it out.

"Glinda!" he said, with surprise and not a little affection. "You're a sight for sore eyes, then." He looked her over, frowning a little. She didn't look quite right. "Mind explainin' to me how we got here?"

[beenthroughhell]

"There's a long version and a short one. Do you want me to get you a blanket or something so you can get inside first?" She's mildly wary, but his manner tells her he has to be from far on enough in time that he's probably not a danger (at least to her), and so she can be glad to see him without too much trepidation.

[idolstolemylook]

Spike had, by now, pretty much forgotten ever being a danger to Tara. He eyed the awning.

"If you don't mind, that'd be brilliant." The witch was a good girl, and had always been pretty nice to him, if wary. And from where he was, she had still been recovering from getting her brain wiped.

[thelivingend]

"Careful, dude. That shit stings."

The source of this sassy-ass comment happens to be just over yonder: a short, pale, black-haired fellow wrapped in several layers of black clothing-including a hoodie, hood drawn up and all-and a pair of big sunglasses. The umbrella in his hand, however, is not black. It is yellow.

[idolstolemylook]

Spike eyed him balefully. "Yeah. Good think I've got you on the look out, innit?" He took a drag on his cigarette, looking the fellow over. "Nice brolly."

thanks lj

[thelivingend]

Well, since he's looking-this fellow's about 5'7", has chipped polish on his fingernails (not black, but dark blue) and is probably dressed to cover his pooch-belly. Look, we can't all have washboard abs, okay.

"Best eleven bucks I ever spent." He gives his umbrella an obliging twirl. Spongebob's face appears-disappears-appears above his head. "What're you doin' out?"

[idolstolemylook]

Oh good, a nice little goth boy. Spike sighs. Now with hipster irony!

"Decided to take a walk, have a picnic," he said mock-casually, shrugging in his leather jacket. "What d'you think? Don't bloody know where I am."

[returntous]

"Huh." She never finds it odd to stumble across these things when she's just passing through; usually the stranger things happened then for Mabel.

"So you stop smoking once you get out of direct sunlight, then, but you can still be out and about?"

Mabel Albans is not-quite-alive, very-slightly-dead. She does not smell good to eat. Her blood tastes awful, and she's had testimony on that.

[idolstolemylook]

Spike looked around, sniffing a bit at the odd smell. Bit of the undead, was she?

"Seems like," he said casually. "If I knew I was goin' on a picnic, wouldn've brought a blanket."

[returntous]

"Sunscreen," she adds brightly (Mabel likes dead people. Unless they start to chew on her). "And one of those old lady floppy hats that would just ruin that bleach blond look of yours, but at least nobody would be roasting weenies off the remains of your corpse."

This is not remotely threatening. It's just how she decides to be friendly.

[idolstolemylook]

Spike was not in the least threatened. He merely cocked his head at her, looking a little like she'd just told Sampras how to serve.

"Been around the block a bit," he said. "Sunscreen doesn't work, 've tried. An' an old blanket works better than a... bonnet."

[a_pretty_fire]

The bar maid was a pretty little thing. She'd approached Drusilla to ask her if she wanted anything to eat or drink, but, with all the speed of the dead, the vampire had lured her into the shadows. Soft words and gentle smiles had guided her across the room. It was terribly bright outside but, in the silken darkness of the inn, they were all alone.

"Hush," Drusilla murmured, her face shifting as she brushed back the girl's golden curls to expose her throat, "I'm going to tell you a story. If she'd been wise, Goldilocks would have skinned the bears before they could catch her ..."

But then she stopped. She knew that voice.

Drusilla let go of the girl, barely noticing when she ran away to shelter behind the bar. The moment had passed and her face returned to normal. Somehow, she'd found herself in a different sort of story.

She moved, swiftly, to the door of the inn. When she pushed it open, the shadows spilled out but the sun couldn't spill in.

"... Spike?"

[idolstolemylook]

He'd know that voice anywhere. A voice that would stop his heart, if it still beat. Spike looked over, across the sunlit street, and saw his own Dru framed in the doorway, a vision.

"Dru?" he murmured, almost to himself. But his inaction lasted only a moment; in another, he was darting across the way, coat over his head, landing just smoldering in the inn. He looked her over, his feelings roiling within him, but part of him always, always hers. "Drusilla, you're... here."

Okay, not the smoothest of openings, but he was pretty surprised, after everything.

[a_pretty_fire]

For the sharpest of moments, her mind was a tumult, filled to the brim with memories of the lives they should have lived and could have lived and might have lived. The different paths - hundreds and thousands of paths! - taken by different Drusilla and different Spikes and the blood red threads that always seemed to pull them back together in the end. And the flames! Oh, she remembered him burning ...

But then he was speaking to her and, just as sharply, there was nothing but the here and the now. He was real. He was real and so was the smile that crept across her face.

"They didn't tell me you were coming," she said, but even she couldn't be nonchalant this morning. "I didn't have time to make the party favours."

[idolstolemylook]

He smiled despite himself, despite Buffy, despite everything that had fallen apart after Drusilla had left him. So much had changed, he didn't even know what they were anymore. And he'd always known.

"S'all right, pet," he said softly. "We'll make our own, won't we?"