First Stanza - [Action & Voice]

[deadpoet]

[Action, Locked to Willow]
[A few moments before Spike arrived, he and Illyria had just escaped most of the main action and a great big bloody dragon come out of nowhere. He'd lost track of Angel and Gunn. Wesley was dead. So now it was just the two of them. Until Spike suddenly came to the surface of the river, cursing as he suddenly started burning and then swimming back underwater again until he could hide under the shade of the bridge. A bloody tiny bridge. And here he was with only a pair of white pants, now failing to hide much of anything, as he ended up STUCK in this tiny shadow. There was a book in the sunlight that was just out of reach. As the day passed on, it continued to get further away from him as the sun shifted the shadows further and further away.

What bollocks.

He decided he'd just wait until the first person came across the bridge and get their attention. That ought to do it.]

[Action/Voice, Open To All]

[Well, Willow took him 'home'. And he rather decided he liked it. Of course, a vamp can't make himself good and comfy without the proper accouterments. So after taking a nice long shower in House Seven, perusing the kitchen, and no doubt making his new housies terrible uncomfortable, he makes his way out as soon as it's evening. In his New Feather pants at first, because what else was there? But his first stop is the clothing store and he's soon back into slimming back. And then it's off to pick out a fancy weapon, get some blood at Good Spirits, find some smokes, recollect his lighter, and then snoop around town because he knows a certain old flame is around here. Not you, Buffy.

Around midnight, he hits up the journal after finally recollecting it from beside the bridge.]

This is a nice little village you lot have here. Very cozy. Has a certain quality to it, you might say. Very Shyamalan-type setting. Too cheerful. Downright unsettling, if you ask me.

Anyway, who do I talk to for the big plan? I've done my sitting around already. Relaxing, sure. Not too fond of the wings. Too ironic for my taste. But I'm ready to go and find the wankers who locked us up in here and do something about it. Champion of the people, right here. Just point me in the right direction.

Comments

[herotypical]

...Fabu.

"And just how well did that not go?"

Faith? Not a welcome-mat kinda gal.

[deadpoet]

"Pretty sure I was winning." At the very least it was a draw. He did a lot better than in the graveyard, anyway. "But it was sorted."

[herotypical]

"...Fists flew?"

God. For once, she could almost feel a kind of envy for Faith bubbling up to the surface. The quote-unquote bad Slayer got to get her violent rocks off whenever she so pleased. Meanwhile, Buffy was struggling on a semi-weekly basis just to keep her own more aggressive urges in check. Because although she didn't want to throw a punch at Spike, she sorta wanted to want to.

[deadpoet]

"Among other things. Bit of a misunderstanding. Seems no one thought to mention to her about the whole soul thing."

And Spike was an idiot and just assumed she went evil again.

[herotypical]

"Of course. Gee, I'm so sorry. I knew I forgot to dish out that detail when me and her were giggling and gossiping over our cafe mochas and chocolate-stuffed croissants."

It was complicated enough just to discuss neutral topics with Faith Lehane. "She hasn't yet come around to the whole Buffy's not out to murderize her truth yet. Kinda hard to clear your name when I can't even clear my own."

Obviously, it put a strain on her to be viewed so barbarously -- even if Faith was the one doing the viewing. There was little Buffy liked less than being figured as a killer.

[deadpoet]

Words could not likely convey how much Spike had managed to not help with Faith and her perception.

"Bloody good timing of the Malnosso then, plucking her out of prison. Would it have killed them to wait a bit?"

[herotypical]

"They didn't do the plucking. They're just as plucked as the rest of us," she said with no ambiguity over whether she also has a particularly similar sounding word in mind.

Frequently, Buffy lost her patience when trying to explain this fact to the newbies -- that whatever drew them here was not the Organization but something else. Something she couldn't pretend to understand. But she showed more patience with Spike because she knew how clever he was.

Or, perhaps, because she know how stupid he could also be.

"Faith's timing is awkward but not the worst that I've seen. The last time Will was here? Pre-veins. Add a brief cameo from Warren the Wonder Psycho into the village and...

My feet literally hurt from walking over so many figurative eggshells."

[deadpoet]

"Did he get himself killed again?" He'd have liked to see that. He never much liked the kid. Even when it was just ordering a robot from him.

Possibly because the robot got out and Spike got his chops busted over it. But he had more tangible reasons for not liking Warren too. He did rather like Tara, after all. She was a decent sort.

"So if they're as plucked as we are, then why the bloody hell are we in here?"

[herotypical]

"My impression is that it's a little like first come and first serve. We had the misfortune to get sucked into this sinkhole of a dimension after their precious Shift experiments were set up..."

She didn't so much as touch that question about Warren. He, too, had been in possession of a tricky time-point. Still yet innocent enough not to get himself punished. But Jack had taken a vow...

[deadpoet]

"So they get here first, get to call the shots. That's fan-soddin'-tastic, it is."

But not surprising in the least. Seniority was a great way of putting other people through hell. It was like high school, if he knew anything about high school beyond what he saw on TV.

[herotypical]

"...Welcome to life -- err, unlife -- in Luceti. Where very little is fair and, occasionally, the points matter."

[deadpoet]

"Yes, well thank you for the introduction, Miss Carey." He liked the British version better. "So anything else I ought to know before I get myself in a fight?"

[herotypical]

"...If it's someone who really deserves it?

Go for the wings."

It was advice more for any potential drafts or missions rather than something to be used in the village. Still -- useful words.

[deadpoet]

He recalled Drusilla's reaction last night when he went for the wings.

"Right. The wings. I'll remember that."

[herotypical]

Buffy would want to hear as much about that as Spike'd likely want to hear about work-roughened pirate fingers getting all friendly in her feathers.

"Lose'em and you die. Lose one and you nearly die. Lose some feathers? And it's like a flu from hell. At least, that's what it's like for me. But it means a blade's useful to have on hand if you need to clip an enemy on short notice."

[deadpoet]

"You've killed a lot of them, haven't you?"

There was a sense of expert knowledge in there. Not just objective, but from experience. Like when she talked about dusting a vampire.

[herotypical]

Coolly: "Death is my gift."

Death is your art; you make it with your hands. "If I don't...stop them first, they'll get to someone I care about. Or even someone I don't care about. It doesn't matter. Children end up on those drafts, Spike. If something happened to one of them 'cause I got cold feet...?"

Well. Self-forgiveness would be less than forthcoming. She didn't need to tell him that.

[deadpoet]

Too coolly. He found he didn't like her coughing up to that so easily. Even if she'd been a killer as long as he knew her. Just. Not that kind.

"Easy, Buffy. I may be judging a lot of your life decisions here-" and he meant that insincerely as a jab at himself."-but that's not one of them. They may not be demons, but it seems they've got it coming to them."

He'd been concerned more than anything. A legion of crazy cultists to fight wasn't a picnic. Especially since they were probably human. And Slayers aren't supposed to kill humans.

[herotypical]

...His words managed to moderately ease her knee-jerk defensive reaction. She couldn't keep her chin up with Spike like she could in front of the others. He knew. He could predict how much of a drain it would be on her. And Buffy had been trying very hard to keep Summers and the Slayer separate -- only occasionally deigning to fight alongside her pirate-boyfriend and only now, when the same pirate's past was in question, was she forced to confront the conflict between these two parts of herself.

"It's worse than that, Spike. They've given up on living..."

The General's faith in death and its release still gave her nightmares.

[deadpoet]

"Doesn't give them much right to take it from those who haven't."

He hadn't been out there yet. He had no reason to be sympathetic with faceless, nameless enemies. If he'd gotten anything out of Wolfram & Hart, it was that doing the right thing wasn't always simple.

[herotypical]

"Rights have nothing to do with it. These guys ring a whole lot of Bringer bells: they walk like humans and they act like humans but they sure as hell don't talk like them. Sometimes literally -- I mean, they don't say a word.

Really cuts into my righteous banter riff."

[deadpoet]

"I hated those bastards. But for a group of cultists, they must not be big on recruiting if they aren't talking."

[herotypical]

She spoke without thinking: "Oh. Their leader doesn't really see us as ripe for the recruiting. Yet."

[deadpoet]

He did not quite grasp the seriousness of that. "Let me guess. Size does matter with the wings?"

[herotypical]

"Actually? Yes. But wing-size depends on birth and...

...Crap."

It was a little like a light bulb just blinked on above the blonde's head.