029; dictated

[gottaknockhard.livejournal.com]

[Jet used to say life goes in cycles, but to Spike, here it's more like a spiral. Lose everything you never really had until you're left with the nothing you started with -- all those ways of thinking that make you a productive member of society. Just wait around for the next suicide mission to pop up and spend the meantime catching up on some sleep. As it happened, Brock's cabin was conveniently left up for grabs, and Spike found his nice little getaway to not give a damn in.

After briefly getting cheered up by the mischief of the 'new gang' in town, he returns with a case of beer to the only place that has nothing but solitude to offer. Sure, it could still use a big TV and a fridge full of food, maybe a decent fan to get some of that musk out of there, but he isn't in the mood to be picky.

It's only after he makes himself comfortable on the couch that he hears something off to the side... Movement catches his eye, and he automatically draws his gun. In the shuffling that follows, the journal falls out of nowhere and opens just in time to pick up a screeching animal and the hollow sound of empty cans scattering to the ground from a nearby pile.]

Hey! [Gunshots fire, but from his shouting, it sounds like he only succeeded in scaring something away.] Sonofabitch... Raccoons now.

[So he'll admit to some drawbacks in this brilliant plan. Maybe the castle is trying to make a point with that journal he sees on the ground and reluctantly reaches for. Everything's always got to be complicated.] Might have had better luck with a tent. Can you wish up bear traps, or is that against the rules?

[Good job checking in, Spike.]

Comments

[itwas-raining.livejournal.com]

[That thought hadn't occurred to her at all. In fact, no coherent thought really had. Her mind is still too much of a jumbled mess, her emotions still entirely too powerful, to allow for that. She's slowly become lost in it, and has maybe even almost forgotten that he's still there.

-- Until he speaks again, that is. It takes her a second to register the sound of his voice, and even more time to process what was actually said. Everything's operating on a delayed reaction with her now. The dangerous kind of delayed reaction that could get you killed, depending on the circumstances.

She exhales. Her gaze finds a far-off wall and stays there. Coming up with something to say is easier when she does that.]

I know.

[gottaknockhard.livejournal.com]

[He lowers his head at that quiet reply. The questions burning in his mind are left unasked. If anyone was aware of what can happen when you don't take every opportunity while you have it, Spike had learned it painfully over his time here. -- So it's any wonder why he gets up and slips quietly towards her, and towards the door.

Just when he has decided he should leave, he pauses in their next stretch of awkward silences. It takes more willpower than he's shown so far to hold in a deep breath and a step past her.]

I'll come back. [She can stop him, or she can let him go, but he doesn't want to cause her any more harm for forcing himself on her.]

[itwas-raining.livejournal.com]

[She turns to face him, and her immediate impulse is to stop him, somehow. Maybe to reach a hand toward his face or let her fingers run through his hair. She'd spent so long on the run, so long with her life hanging in complete limbo, and during that time, the thought of ever seeing him again had seemed nothing short of impossible. And now that they've found each other again, for more than a brief reunion this time, she's reluctant to let him go.

But at the same time, she knows. The longer he stands here with her, the longer she looks at him, the more painful this becomes. She needs time alone to think, to process. To let things become clearer with a little bit of distance.

She'd let him go once before. For both of their sakes.

And maybe that's what's best for now.

Her hands remain still by her sides, and she makes no move.]

[gottaknockhard.livejournal.com]

[His eyes linger on her another moment, before he nods and grabs the door handle. Once he's committed, he's out quickly, not wanting to dwell on what he's walking away from.

It's not five steps out that he lights a cigarette. That seems to have a calming effect, and he briskly stalks down the hall before anyone can sweep in to interrupt his deteriorating thoughts.

Give her time. If he's lucky (and he's long overdue for that), there will be enough to spare.]