[ he fights tooth and nail, his eyes glowing gold as he throws natives away from him like they're fleas. it's with some concerted effort on his part that he doesn't break out into the monster's face, but he doesn't mean them harm -- not really. he just won't be caged again. he can't. he'll break for the last time and that will be it for him. eventually they manage to strip him of all that he has, and it feels familiar in the worst way. he's left in a sunny yellow jumpsuit and a scowl, snatching the device they give him out of native hands with a growl. they just press their fingers to his lips and shove him out to watch constance's little... performance art. ]
Alright, already. We get it. If you're so bloody special what do you need us for?
[ he snipes over everyone, interrupting questions and generally causing a raucus until they carry him away. it takes five big guys to corral him but they take him back into the first reset chamber and start again. he busts out only to be carried back in for a stern talking to three different times, his yells can be heard in the main room, he's not giving it up. ] Get your grubby mitts offa me! I was William the Bloody once, you know. I ate guys like you for a snack! Tasted a little gamey, but I powered through.
[ endless babble eventually, eventually comes to an end and spike re-enters the populace looking beat down in more ways than one. bruises are starting to form on his arms where he ripped off the sleeves to his jumpsuit, but the raised angry red should be gone by morning. he's stomping off, angry to have lost his boots. it doesn't quite have the same effect with bare feet in the sand, does it? spike is a creature who thrives on sound. he needs it to know he's still alive. or whatever approximation he passes for.
whoever tries to approach the vampire will get a glower and a v sign courtesy of all the salt in britain. not that he even really considers himself english anymore. he throws his device on the ground and storms off like a totally mature 200 years old child. ]
settling in;;
[ spike has calmed down... somewhat since the reset room incident, but after fighting the natives so much now it's very late and he is very sick of this place already. he's just going to creep up onto someone's deck and fall asleep there in a jumble of limbs in the corner like a stray feline. sorry, he probably won't be moving for a while. his device is open next to him with a message flashing. ]
spike: touch me and lose an apendage. i'll let you pick which one :)
caught me unawares;;
[ spike looks a little different in this dream, and his mother is here. he has his head in her lap and he's reading her scriptures while she sings softly under her breath. his heart swells, and he feels complete. there's a part of him that knows this isn't real; that knows this is just a fake version of something that happened a very long time ago, but the comfort is welcomed anyway.
then the scene shifts. spike looking more like himself but still with his head pillowed on a woman's thighs. this time it's a dark, dangerous woman. she coos nonsense while petting long fingers up and down his back. he closes his eyes, and when he opens them -- he's in a hallway. okay... he's glancing sharply around. if that cheese guy comes out of the closet he swears to GOD. then there's a door. something tells him to open it. he puts out his hand and swallows, then turns it quick like it might bite him.
and then he's falling ... falling.
still falling.
now he's just bored.
at least, until the landing. which he nails by the way. if anyone were to ask later. you know. whatever. ] For fuck's sake! [ he tosses around red dust like a toddler throwing a tantrum. he hates this place more than he's ever hated anywhere, and that includes the place without shrimp okay. he's done, he wants out. ] Eternal torment was one thing, but this is bleeding sick. Whoever sets this up needs a head shrinking.
[ then he sees whoever is in there with him and he makes a face like WHAT ] Got something to say? Jesus. Everyone here's a critic. Ain't that swell.
falling down the stairs;; cw: attempted rape
[ there's only one moment spike holds in the 'worst' category. it isn't the night his mother died. it isn't the night dru left him. it isn't even the night he stumbled into sunnyhell, no. he had said all of those were the worst, but they were just moments. links on a chain that brought him to buffy summers. that led him to his destiny.
except this? this isn't who he is, is it? this isn't the man he wants to be. spike pushes buffy down on the tile, moving her robe aside. he's telling her she wants this, she wants him. but it's all, all wrong. she shoves him off and he sees the bruises he'll leave; he sees the pain in her eyes. all he ever wanted was her love and adoration. for her to notice him, to notice he was trying to be a good man.
he swallows, and he thinks he ekes out an apology. he can't hear anything over the rush of blood in his head. he feels a heart beat that's been dead for centuries and he flees. he's dust in the wind and clawing desperately at the hollow void inside him. he did that, him. there's no one else who he can blame.
then there are the trials. they're hard, they hurt; but they're nothing when compared to what he's done. spike doesn't think she'll ever forgive him -- she shouldn't. but he has to try. he has to be a better man. the moment his soul is restored, he feels all the hurt he's caused. all the suffering -- accutely. this is what he wanted. this is what he fought for.
spike clutches his chest and he's running again. the stone cave turns into asphalt and back into that long, stupid hallway again. he groans, but he's already given into his fate. spike pushes the door open and gracefully tumbles through the air this time, landing on his feet in the reset room. gUESS WHo'S BACK ]
spike | from that old show
[ he fights tooth and nail, his eyes glowing gold as he throws natives away from him like they're fleas. it's with some concerted effort on his part that he doesn't break out into the monster's face, but he doesn't mean them harm -- not really. he just won't be caged again. he can't. he'll break for the last time and that will be it for him. eventually they manage to strip him of all that he has, and it feels familiar in the worst way. he's left in a sunny yellow jumpsuit and a scowl, snatching the device they give him out of native hands with a growl. they just press their fingers to his lips and shove him out to watch constance's little... performance art. ]
Alright, already. We get it. If you're so bloody special what do you need us for?
[ he snipes over everyone, interrupting questions and generally causing a raucus until they carry him away. it takes five big guys to corral him but they take him back into the first reset chamber and start again. he busts out only to be carried back in for a stern talking to three different times, his yells can be heard in the main room, he's not giving it up. ] Get your grubby mitts offa me! I was William the Bloody once, you know. I ate guys like you for a snack! Tasted a little gamey, but I powered through.
[ endless babble eventually, eventually comes to an end and spike re-enters the populace looking beat down in more ways than one. bruises are starting to form on his arms where he ripped off the sleeves to his jumpsuit, but the raised angry red should be gone by morning. he's stomping off, angry to have lost his boots. it doesn't quite have the same effect with bare feet in the sand, does it? spike is a creature who thrives on sound. he needs it to know he's still alive. or whatever approximation he passes for.
whoever tries to approach the vampire will get a glower and a v sign courtesy of all the salt in britain. not that he even really considers himself english anymore. he throws his device on the ground and storms off like a totally mature 200 years old child. ]
settling in;;
[ spike has calmed down... somewhat since the reset room incident, but after fighting the natives so much now it's very late and he is very sick of this place already. he's just going to creep up onto someone's deck and fall asleep there in a jumble of limbs in the corner like a stray feline. sorry, he probably won't be moving for a while. his device is open next to him with a message flashing. ]
spike: touch me and lose an apendage.
i'll let you pick which one :)
caught me unawares;;
[ spike looks a little different in this dream, and his mother is here. he has his head in her lap and he's reading her scriptures while she sings softly under her breath. his heart swells, and he feels complete. there's a part of him that knows this isn't real; that knows this is just a fake version of something that happened a very long time ago, but the comfort is welcomed anyway.
then the scene shifts. spike looking more like himself but still with his head pillowed on a woman's thighs. this time it's a dark, dangerous woman. she coos nonsense while petting long fingers up and down his back. he closes his eyes, and when he opens them -- he's in a hallway. okay... he's glancing sharply around. if that cheese guy comes out of the closet he swears to GOD. then there's a door. something tells him to open it. he puts out his hand and swallows, then turns it quick like it might bite him.
and then he's falling ... falling.
still falling.
now he's just bored.
at least, until the landing. which he nails by the way. if anyone were to ask later. you know. whatever. ] For fuck's sake! [ he tosses around red dust like a toddler throwing a tantrum. he hates this place more than he's ever hated anywhere, and that includes the place without shrimp okay. he's done, he wants out. ] Eternal torment was one thing, but this is bleeding sick. Whoever sets this up needs a head shrinking.
[ then he sees whoever is in there with him and he makes a face like WHAT ] Got something to say? Jesus. Everyone here's a critic. Ain't that swell.
falling down the stairs;;
cw: attempted rape
[ there's only one moment spike holds in the 'worst' category. it isn't the night his mother died. it isn't the night dru left him. it isn't even the night he stumbled into sunnyhell, no. he had said all of those were the worst, but they were just moments. links on a chain that brought him to buffy summers. that led him to his destiny.
except this? this isn't who he is, is it? this isn't the man he wants to be. spike pushes buffy down on the tile, moving her robe aside. he's telling her she wants this, she wants him. but it's all, all wrong. she shoves him off and he sees the bruises he'll leave; he sees the pain in her eyes. all he ever wanted was her love and adoration. for her to notice him, to notice he was trying to be a good man.
he swallows, and he thinks he ekes out an apology. he can't hear anything over the rush of blood in his head. he feels a heart beat that's been dead for centuries and he flees. he's dust in the wind and clawing desperately at the hollow void inside him. he did that, him. there's no one else who he can blame.
then there are the trials. they're hard, they hurt; but they're nothing when compared to what he's done. spike doesn't think she'll ever forgive him -- she shouldn't. but he has to try. he has to be a better man. the moment his soul is restored, he feels all the hurt he's caused. all the suffering -- accutely. this is what he wanted. this is what he fought for.
spike clutches his chest and he's running again. the stone cave turns into asphalt and back into that long, stupid hallway again. he groans, but he's already given into his fate. spike pushes the door open and gracefully tumbles through the air this time, landing on his feet in the reset room. gUESS WHo'S BACK ]