knightsoflegend | CLOSED ♔ I'M ONE STEP AWAY

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CLOSED ♔ I'M ONE STEP AWAY

WHO || Buffy Summers & Spike
WHAT || Buffy and Spike clear up some issues.
WHERE || out front of the hotel, Chicago
WHEN || Two days after the Chicago mission's conclusion, while Gar's off calling Des.
HOW || Prose.

Back to slumming around the hotel. Not that Buffy was exactly eager to get shot again (although, all things considered, between Myri's heal-job and her own apparent propensity towards quick recovery, not too bad on that front), but sitting around a hotel for days on end once again wasn't high on her list of things that ranked as lovin', either.

Particularly because it involved stiffly sitting in a corner with a book, one of the hotel's courtesy notepads slapped down on the pages as she doodled instead of read. Mostly meaningless patterns of lines, but eventually the scratch of the hotel pen would get more aggressive and other things would come out. Only in the most professional of manners, of course. The whole deal with this Nightscape-y place is that nobody really remembered the dream they had there. Better she get it down before her fun experience conveniently slipped her mind, too, even if she somehow felt like that face and the feeling of the bullet tearing through her gut were things she'd never forget.

She waited until Spike slipped downstairs for a smoke break to corner him. Snapping her book shut on the notepad, she dropped it into her chair and casually headed after him once he'd gotten a minute or so's head start. She pulled her jacket around her as she stepped outside the front of the hotel just as he was lighting up, coming to a stop with her hands tucked into her jacket pockets and a narrow, accusatory expression on her face.

"Do you get it, yet?"

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The answer is complicated. And, the truth is, she's not as noble as she seems.

It was selfish, in a way, to hope that he could prove her and Kat wrong. She wanted him to be good to validate what she currently perceived as the mistake that she made in befriending him in the first place, back before she knew what he was. If he was a good vampire, that wasn't a bad judgment call on her part, was it? She wouldn't have to worry about him being like the ones she saw at night, in her dreams, killing her.

But, to say that would be giving too much of herself. She wanted to be the kind of person who would be open like that. She wanted to, but she was beginning to realize that she wasn't. She didn't like putting herself out there. Francesca was wrong. She didn't get to choose who she wanted to be just because she forgot everything. She just got to experience the pitfalls of who she had become anew, with no idea why, and feel the stab of how it isolated her.

"Because, I do have a soul." It was that simple, at a base level. Even if he wasn't her friend once. Even if he was just some monster, he was her teammate. He was a person and he wanted to be good. She couldn't sit back and let him die. She didn't operate that way.

To add a little levity, she digressed, "Well, that, and if you got shot, it was gonna be just me and Des on Jade-watch and was it just me or was that guy seriously skeezy?" Why, yes, she would call Des by his shortened name when she wasn't in his company and still insist on calling him Desmond when he was around.

His mouth twisted a little into something that almost resembled a smile, but he didn't quite get there. He didn't feel like laughing. He felt like shit. He could joke all he wanted about joining the knights for a pay check or because he had nothing better to do, but the truth was, he cared. Not about the mission, exactly, but about people. He really liked the idea of fighting evil, and he didn't want to stand by and let innocent people get hurt. It's why he hadn't hesitated when he heard Jade in trouble.

A lot of things didn't quite add up, though.He thought he'd be more interested in eating people if he didn't have a soul. Wouldn't feel revulsion at the idea of taking a life, feeling that last breath as a person passed. It wasn't like he'd had to show up here and join the good guys, He could have laughed off Dovan's Knights joining offer and started feasting on innocents. He hadn't.

Then again, maybe with his little headache problem, he couldn't. But he hadn't known about that until he fought Buffy. He still hadn't wanted to try.

"And in the Blood Room? When you started hitting me? What was that all about?" It was a slight change in topic, but it was still something they had to discuss. Plus, he was really all right with getting off topic. He needed to consider the topic of his soul or lack thereof more, but he didn't think Buffy was the right person to talk about it with. She seemed pretty biased.

It's not a subject change that she wants to follow him on. She shakes her head and looks away, pacing past him a few steps on the concrete and folding her arms tightly across her chest. Breaking bad news wasn't something she loved doing to begin with. Talking about her problems, problems that she didn't even understand, was even further down that list.

"I told you," she responded, deflecting. "Something else was there with us. Messing with me." Her body trembled as she remembered the feeling, and it was almost like that all-encompassing death was washing over her again. She struggled to recall the image of the spectre. Dark skin, dirty hair, face paint. She looked like a monster. Spike looked like a monster.

Maybe it was just trying to warn her. That was the theory she had thrown around the most. Too many nights she spent tossing and turning as dozens of different kinds of monsters descended on her and killed her, vampires the frequent perpetrator.

Maybe it was going to happen to her. Maybe it was going to be Spike, and whatever that … thing had been. Maybe that's what its message was. Maybe that was why she felt so inundated in death when she thought of it. As if that was all she was. Because, if this kept up, it was all she'd be -- because of him. Maybe that was why it had made her hurt him.

"Yeah, I heard you the first time." But it didn't answer Spike's question. "I want more details." He supposed if he were so evil, maybe she wouldn't want to tell him. Still, she had attacked him. Seemed only right that she explained But he was probably wasting his time. If she were going to open up to anyone, it wouldn't be him.

Then again, maybe he could use her own arguments against her. He raised an eyebrow, regarding her coolly. "Not good keeping secrets, love. It could strike again and endanger the rest of us."

Edited (html fail) 2012-03-24 05:03 (UTC)

For a moment, she considered starting with the dreams. She refused to believe the two weren't related. She couldn't ignore something like that. It wasn't the room, she knew it wasn't the room. It was her. And if it could make her do that … It meant she was dangerous. And, that Spike was right to use her own logic against her. She took a breath, seething it out through her teeth.

"Sometimes, I really hate you." She said it in a way that wasn't particularly venomous at all, but rather exasperated. Mostly, she hated him for being right. "It was … I saw something. Something … evil. I think it was evil." She shook her head. It was too much of a head trip to really describe appropriately. The pulse-pounding, gut-wrenching feeling. The overwhelmingness. It couldn't be put to words. She shut her eyes, trying to remember. Then, like realization, she spoke up again.

"It was a girl." She turned around, eyes opening back up, and looked at him. "It was death. And, then it was you." She said it simply, shaking it off. "I don't know what else to tell you."

"Yeah, I've noticed that." She hadn't worked hard to hide her hatred. At least she didn't sound angry about it this time. He still was sure she meant it. She'd made that all too clear. He also felt a little relieved to be talking about her now, and not how evil and soulless he was. He didn't know how much more of that he could have taken.

Spike didn't hate her, though, and he felt a twinge of sympathy as he watched her try and remember. He was glad she'd actually told him, though he didn't feel any clearer on what had happened than before. He felt like he knew about as much as Buffy did, though. So that was something.

"Has it happened before?" He tilted his head, watching her carefully. "And you do realise that whatever I am, it's not a girl, right? Can't really argue the death part, but I do have male bits." ~~Buffy just has bigger male bits.~~

"Tell me about your male bits again, and you're liable to lose them." The last comment narrowed her eyes into a glower, chastising. Not the time. Still, he could stand to be a little less aggravating. Her hands dropped to her sides, exasperated, and she just shook her head, glancing everywhere but him as she spoke.

"What, you mean have I been hallucinating? No, this would be a first. I'm telling you, it was that … place. It was sucking me in." Her eyes flickered up to him. Or, trying to get her to antagonize him and drag him in. Beating on a vampire in a room filled with willing victims? Definitely could end badly. "I'm not saying it makes sense. I fully realize exactly how crazy I sound."

"Not like I was offering to show them to you," he muttered, but past that he didn't press the point. It wasn't important.

The blood room. Full of Spike's kind. Evil, soulless monsters. Something Buffy had made it all too clear she hated. Maybe it meant something. Spike had no idea what of course, but he doubted it was a coincidence. He was miles out of his depth.

"I saw you. I don't think you're crazy. I do think you've got to figure out why." Could it have been him? But no, she'd been around him before. Just because she'd attacked him... hadn't been personal. Probably. He was just the nearest target. "Think it might happen again? In other places?"

"You think I know?" It's snapped. Everything he was saying was just reaffirming things she'd already asked herself and come up blank on. She knew it was connected to her. It wasn't just some random happenstance in that room. It was her. Death. She shook the feeling with a roll of her shoulders just as it crept up her spine and settled in again.

"I'm not crazy." Her voice was steady and stubborn, less reactionary as she forced the words out. She wasn't. She'd spent entirely too long convincing herself of that to be proven wrong now. As if it wasn't her first thought. As if the things she dreamt, the things she saw? Didn't make her wonder. But, she wasn't. She wasn't. "It was some trick of the club, it wasn't anything that's wrong with me." And fuck him for insinuating otherwise.

Defensive and thoroughly done with this line of questioning -- why had she ever felt for him when he looked so defeated upon hearing he was soulless? He was an ass. And the further he pushed this, the more it reminded her -- she turned heel and moved to head back inside the hotel.

He grabbed her shoulder as she passed to stop her. "I'm not gonna let you put my friends in danger just because you're a coward." Throwing her words back at her had worked once already. Maybe it would again now. "If something's messing with you, then you've got to figure out what it is. Living in denial's not going to make what happened go away."

She pivoted as he grabbed her and clocked him. It was instinctual more than anything, but if he thought he could touch her, he was sorely mistaken. (Atk20 Dmg14.) She left it at that, though, and didn't pursue further violence, simply jerking her shoulder out of his grip.

"I know what's going on with me. It was that stupid club. But, even if it's not, my issues are mine to deal with. And, I don't owe you any answers." The one thing the blood room had taught her was that she couldn't just keep going without telling people what was going on in her head. She needed to talk to Jack. Problem was, he was just as mission-busy as she was. Maybe worse.

But, she wasn't giving Spike the satisfaction of knowing she already planned on doing exactly that. It wasn't his business.

Spike's head snapped to the side with the force of the blow, but past that he didn't react. He turned it back to her sharply, eyes burning with rage. He'd only been trying to help her. Even after she told him he was soulless and could never be good, he'd been asking because he was worried. And it wasn't like he'd hurt her or anything when he grabbed her. She was just throwing punches for no reason. Again. Only this time, she wasn't possessed. She was just being the same bloody bitch she'd been the whole time.

"Oh, so that's it, then? I'm soulless so you can hit me whenever you like? Don't need to explain why? Cause I don't matter, right?" He stepped in closer. She could hit him again. He didn't care. He'd get in her face just the same. If she was going to call him out and accuse him of being... whatever it was he was, well, he was going to voice his own concerns about her.

"I'll tell you something, pet. If I weren't a vampire, a hit like that could have killed me. Like you almost killed Arthur. Since we're all about sharing tonight, want to fill me in on what exactly you are?"

The barb stung, of course. Wouldn't it be nice if she knew and could tell him? Wouldn't it be nice if it were just a simple answer, like "human"? But, the more people pointed out just how far divorced from humanity she was, the less she could convince herself that it was true.

And, the reminder of what she'd done to Arthur cut even deeper. But, he forgave her. He still wanted to -- Okay, well, their less than cheery conversation on the DrakeNet didn't exactly scream that he wanted to be besties, but he didn't hold it against her. Right?

The evidence was just piling up and yet somehow it didn't give her any idea of what she could be. What had reflexes or strength like she did. What could take a bullet to the gut at what was essentially point-blank range without even slowing down. What attacked and nearly killed her friends.

"Get out of my face before I make you get out," she snapped back, lip curling in a sneer. No. She wasn't going to let him know that it hurt, that it got to her. He was an ass, and a liar, and a monster. He didn't deserve the satisfaction.

Spike held his ground, glaring back at her. He'd made her mad. She really couldn't hide that. But at the moment, he didn't really care. She'd made him mad too. And by god, he was done with her. No more trying to mend bridges or make nice. It was never going to work. She hated him. Why try and feel any other way about her? He'd damn well make her as uncomfortable and pissed off as possible, and he'd enjoy it too.

And that twinge of guilt he felt whenever he hurt her? The one that pinched so much more sharply than the one he kept getting in his head? Well, he must be imagining it. He was soulless, after all. He shouldn't feel anything like that.

"Or what? Gonna hit me again, knowing I can't hit back? Real heroic of you."

"Oh, right, I almost forget that you were impotent. Must be tough. How exactly does one manage to be any use to a Knighthood when you can't hit anything?" She gives a passive aggressive smile.

"I don't need to beat you down, 'cause I'm sure you'll be out of my hair soon enough eihter way. You know, in that fired due to useless kind of way." She shakes her head, stepping toe-to-toe with him because like hell was she going to let him get to her like this. "What kind of vampire can't even throw a punch?"

Edited (oh wow i left out an entire phrase) 2012-03-26 00:13 (UTC)

He clenched his fist, eager to slam it in her face and show her just how bloody impotent he was, but he resisted. Mostly because... she was right. He couldn't hit anything, not without hurting himself, and he hated it. Sure, he'd managed to be useful even so. He'd fought where he could anyway, through the pain, and he'd used his enhanced senses and... he really wished he could fight for real, without the headaches.

There were non-fighting jobs he could do, it was true, but he didn't want those jobs. He was rot at research. He didn't have the first clue how to heal someone, and clearly his attempts would fail hard since he was so unholy. The only thing he could really do was withstand getting hit a lot, and Buffy was clearly doing her best to try the limits of that ability.

"One that's a hell of a lot less dangerous than a girl with no control over her superstrength." He smirks at her bitterly. "Bet they fire you first for being off your rocker."

Buffy was undeterred. She just kept going like he hadn't said anything at all, acquiring a look of smug superiority along the way, eyebrows arching in the "so there" kind of way.

"Or maybe they'll take a leaf out of the Hellsing book. Keep you as a pet. Lock you up in the basement under some freaky mind control until they need to let you out to eat something. Ooh! Maybe, while we're here, we could co-opt one of those cages from Nightscape. That's where animals belong, isn't it?"

That did it. She could taunt him for being harmless all she wanted, but that was his freedom she was talking about. Spike didn't know much about himself, all things considered, but he knew he'd never be well-behaved enough to be anyone's pet. Chip or no chip.

He didn't really think about it. His hand shot out, hard and fast, slamming into her face (attack 27) with all the force (damage 12) of his vampire strength. He wasn't worried about killing her. He'd seen her shrug off a bullet to the stomach. All he wanted to do was hurt her.

The second his fist connected, though, his head burst into pain, (damage 7) sending him back, clutching his head. He tried hard not to make any noise, not to give her the satisfaction of screaming or anything, but try as he might, he couldn't hold back a quiet whimper. It hurt. A lot.

Her head whipped to the side from the strength of the blow, but with a balance check of 16 she keeps her stagger to one step, knocking her into the wall which she braces herself on. She keeps her face turned away for a moment, stunned and offended that he would ever hit her!!11 even though she hit him first. It was fucking rude okay you don't hit a lady.

She reached up, touching her hand to her lip, which was split from the punch, and looks at the blood on her fingers, then up at him. The hand clenched into a fist and she reaches wide and punches him back, knocking him in the eye (atk 28) with all of her frightening strength (dmg 14). Why? Because fuck you, that's why.

Then, she drew her fist back and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth to rub away the blood.

"Screw you." She wasn't sticking around for a fistfight with a vampire. She just backed off a couple steps, shaking her head, and then turned to head inside. If he knew what was good for him, he'd give it up. If she didn't knock him out, his migraine would.

Spike? Knowing what's good for him? What crazy alternate universe are you from? He was smart enough to realise he can't beat her in a straight-out fist fight. The whole headache thing. It put a damper on things. But that didn't mean he was ready to just give up. He stumbled back with the punch, but didn't fall (balance check 16). He put a hand against the wall for a moment to steady himself, then used a burst of vampire speed to catch up to her, appearing in front of her as she turned around.

"I'm no one's pet," he said, spitting the words out. "I don't know who your Hellsing friends are, but I'd rather die than be..." he scrunched his face up in disgust. "Tamed." He'd fight until the headaches killed him if he had to. "You'd best remember it."

She didn't bother to correct him that … she'd pretty much told him half of what she even knew about Hellsing with that barb. They weren't her friends. She barely knew shit about them. They weren't even the Knighthood's friends. And she even managed to hide the surprise and gut reaction of fear when he appeared in front of her out of nowhere, simply jerking to a halt.

"What part of "out of my face" were you not clear on?" She was trying hard not to engage. Emphasis on hard, as in it was really difficult not to engage when he just opened door after door. His inner conflict was quickly becoming outer and it was too easy to wedge a knife in his sore spots. Flopping back and forth between 'I don't want to be like other vampires, I'm good' and 'I'd rather die than be tamed.' Was there even another word for a good vampire?

Yes, Buffy, there were lots of other words. "Hero." "Champion." "Good." He didn't have to be tame, he could just only beat on the bad guys. He'd never follow orders or roll over for a treat, though. He was above that.

"The part where I don't give a damn what you say." It wasn't true. He wanted it to be true, but he couldn't stop caring. Couldn't stop wishing things were otherwise. But he wasn't tame, and if she told him to get out of her face, he'd just get even more in it. He leaned forward, baring human teeth. "You know, I'm starting to think your whole soul story was just something you spun to justify hating me." She'd seemed so sympathetic for a moment, though, like she truly didn't want to give him the news... he pushed the thought away. "Starting to think you don't know a bloody thing about vampires. Or me."

It'd be nice. If she really didn't know a thing about vampires. If she didn't know what they looked like, if she didn't know what it felt like when they bit you and you wanted to scream but couldn't, if she didn't know how strong they were, how fast, how terrifying? It'd be nice if she didn't dream of killing them, or getting killed by them. It'd be nice if her teammate wasn't one of them.

But, she did. And he was.

Her expression is tired rather than antagonizing and she just shakes her head at him. There was no point in baiting him or fighting him. It didn't get either of them anywhere, and the point was … she didn't want to be right.

"I wish I didn't," she expressed plainly. Her voice grew to be more raw as she continued on. "If you honestly think that I want to be right about this, then you don't know me at all." She stepped around him and walked through the sliding doors back into the lobby. She wanted him to be right. She wanted him to not be a monster.

But, she was right, and he was a monster. And it hurt to know that. To know that she was wrong to fight against her gut instinct when it gave her icky vibes off of him. As nice as denial would be, moments like this one just drove home the point: she was wrong to ever be his friend. To ever feel bad for him when she broke him the news. To ever feel for him at all.

She'd gone to Kat in hopes that there could be some kind of exception. A nice, unbiased opinion from someone who didn't dream so frequently about having their throat ripped open. And the verdict was in.

Spike let her go. That had been... something of a disaster. Like all his conversations with Buffy tended to be. "But I don't want to be a monster..." he said it at her back, and he wasn't even sure if she'd heard it. He wasn't sure he wanted her too. It wouldn't make a difference to how she felt about him. That much was clear.

He stared after her for a moment, then turned away angrily, stalking off into the night. He needed a drink. Again.

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CLOSED ♔ I'M ONE STEP AWAY

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