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

[deadpoet]

"My guess would be not having enough sex."

If he knew anything about her or when she was from, he'd probably conclude he was right.

[herotypical]

"...Gee. Could you be any ruder?"

Buffy didn't want to think about Elizabeth in that light. Not at all. Not after having first been wildly envious of her and then being Valentinesly in love with her.

"At least try and be civil about the whole thing. She lives here too, y'know."

[deadpoet]

"And is she living with her boyfriend here too?"

He realized immediately how backhanded that sound. It was unintentional. But then, given how much he disapproved, he wasn't at all apologetic for saying it. Even if he was trying to be nice.

[herotypical]

"...She's a little too old fashioned for that. We're talking 1700s. Hence why they're in such a rush, I guess."

Because -- waiting? Until marriage? How inconvenient.

[deadpoet]

"Old fashioned type, then. Just like that Archie. Can't wait to tie the knot, can they?"

But he remembered the 1800s well enough. He was thirty and unmarried, making him an incredible loser, especially for a man who was well off enough to pursue interests like poetry. He should have been married years before that.

[herotypical]

"Apparently dating is just a race to marriage for her and Archie, yeah," Buffy said in a most idle tone -- not realizing that she was slotting in one more piece of the puzzle for the overprotective vampire.

"I dunno. I guess they'll be happy. I'm trying not to make it too much of my business."

For, she thought, obvious reasons.

[deadpoet]

"Hold up." He shifted forward in his seat. "I thought Archie was the one with Dawn. He's with this Elizabeth now? The one who is supposed to be marrying another?"

[herotypical]

"...It's Days of our Wings, Spike. Throw a bunch of people under a roof like this and -- well? Things happen. Liz showed up about four months after Dawn disappeared. I guess she and Archie were fast friends."

And Buffy was all the sadder because of it, really.

[deadpoet]

"Bloody hell, so it's all of four months before he moves on from the woman he wanted to propose to? Some boyfriend he is. Dawn deserves a man that takes longer than a year to get good and properly over her."

Look at Spike. It took him two years to get over Drusilla. And he wasn't even over her, apparently. And certainly not over Buffy.

"It's disrespectful, that's what it is. The both of them. And you know what? I wouldn't even need a soul to know that."

[herotypical]

"Down, boy. It's not like you have all the details."

And she couldn't simply tell him about Archie's...condition. Buffy could almost almost almost forgive the rush to date again given he could be sent back to his death at any moment. Carpe diem, eh?

"But -- thanks. For saying what I can't say."

[deadpoet]

"I think I've got the important bits." It was said with a tiny bit of resignation at the fact he was calling off the angry crusade about it. He'd already decided he didn't like either of them, in much the same way there were characters on Passions he'd absolutely decided were terrible people not worth the screen time they received.

"But. Sure. Anytime you like."

[herotypical]

"Now that you know a little bit of just how messy it all is, are you sure your unbeating heart is still set on staying here?"

[deadpoet]

"And miss the latest gossip from As My Stomach Churns? Not a chance."

[herotypical]

"Just wait for your first experiment filled with personality-changing whammy. Then you'll become the subject of gossip, too."

Ugh. Note to self: stay away from Spike on Valentine's.

[deadpoet]

"As long as I don't become Randy the superhero again, I think I'll live."

He really wasn't looking forward to these experiments. It was too much like magic.

[herotypical]

"Yeah...I'd happily go another lifetime without seeing you in tweed again."

[deadpoet]

"You and me both."

[herotypical]

"Speaking of, though? Did you find enough stuff in the village?"

Because this house was not a clothing-optional space.

Not usually.

[deadpoet]

"I found plenty. Coat, lighter, and everything."

[herotypical]

"All the things a modern vampire needs in brand new hell-hole. What about the curtains? Are they heavy enough?"

And so the conversation looped back to a point of criticism from the previous night. Buffy pushed at her chair. "...'Cause I think I have a heavier set in the laundry room."

[deadpoet]

He could sense where this was going. Defensively: "I'll find out in the morning."

[herotypical]

"What? When you wake us up with the smell of burning flesh and your manly yelps of pain? I'm thinking hell no."

[deadpoet]

He hadn't really looked at the curtains. But that thought in mind. "Fine then. Heavier curtains it is."

[herotypical]

"Of course," she said as she tucked her chair back under the table and glanced thoughtfully at the room in question. "They're patterned. Floral. There's a reason why they're in storage."

[deadpoet]

"You're a monster, you know that?" He resolved to himself to get curtains himself. A vampire had to have standards after all.