CLOSED ♔ I'M ONE STEP AWAY

[slays]

♬ stupid thing ; nickel

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?"

Comments

[bigbad]

Spike calmly finished lighting his cigarette and dropped the lighter in his pocket. Buffy had come to yell at him. He couldn't even guess what at, but knowing her, probably something vampire-related. He wasn't about to fight on command, though, so he took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled before he turned to her.

"Get what? Why you went mad and started beating me up back in the club?" He knew it wasn't that, of course. He doubted Buffy wanted to talk about that. But if they were going to be throwing around accusations, he had a few of his own to add to the mix. "No, still haven't figured it out. Enlighten us, would you?"