paradisalogs | closed; feeding my flame

Entry tags:

closed; feeding my flame

who; Joshua Christopher & Spike Spiegel
what; "Best friends" drinking and fighting.
where; The mansion
when; January 31st, after the party.
rating; PG-13 for violence and language.

It wasn't surprising that Spike didn't go to the party, but the growing isolationist attitude of the other man is well noticed by Joshua; not that he's ever been in a place to judge such habits. Still, even Joshua seems to enjoy parties more than Spike, which is not right. Where was the gambling lady's man?

Maybe he's been around more than Joshua knows, just hidden away from the teenager for some unknown reason. Reasons that surely wouldn't have to do with the beautiful Borgia he had left to continue to party on, as the Apostle's nerves were beginning to strain at the crowd. Cassandra would keep an eye on her and escort her home if some overeager 'gentleman' didn't try first.

Que sera, sera.

Joshua had barely tasted what was supposed to be some kind of alcohol at the party, but he could tell it was strong. Something his roommate-in-denial should be appreciating. Well, Joshua's nothing if not a considerate friend, bringing a couple filled bottles home. He didn't even know what it was called, so it's not like he could have wished for it.

He had actually checked Spike's castle room first, but now he walks into the mansion instantly reading the man's less-than-stable presence. The banging sound is especially lacking in grace. Not having announced his own entrance, there's no maid to greet him, so he just walks on in, the two bottles hanging from between his fingers while he wanders the halls.

Finding the older man butchering a wall in one of the rooms, Joshua says nothing, just lurking in the doorway and watching with a bemused expression on his face until he's noticed.

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Holiday celebrations have never been a big draw for Spike, so that alone could explain his sudden absence in the castle. Not even free food was enough to keep him there. Although this time it wasn't because of his occasional need to disappear, or the odd behavior of a few of the people around him; he just had other things to do before he could enjoy himself. And seeing as Spike is the kind of guy who follows his impulses, they led him all the way to Joshua's library in the mansion.

The maids have gotten used to him wandering in and out by now, so it was relatively easy to get them to leave him with his bag of tools and long pieces of wood he carried in. Another day and their acceptance and respectable distance would have been unsettling, but he only has so many hours if he's going to get this done while everyone else is out, and dwelling got pushed aside.

Fixing up the mansion had never been something he offered, even when it was in worse shape. For the most part, he downplayed any skills he had with a hammer and nail to get out of being saddled with more work that tied him to this place. He isn't the world's greatest handyman or anything, but he can handle putting up a simple shelf. Something respectable for the books that weren't displayed in the best light.

The whole thing was going smoothly when he turns to pick up another nail and catches the figure standing in the doorway.

"You're back," he blurts out, like he just got caught doing something more nefarious than this. He'd really hoped to have it done and leave before he ever knew who did it. It would have been a nice surprise.

One hand resting in his pocket while he leans against the door frame, Joshua holds up the bottles with his other hand, the glass clinking in the movement. His gaze hasn't moved from Spike, and his expression has hardly altered except for the slowest of smiles sneaking onto his face.

"I do live here. Since when do you play at construction?"

If it weren't for the hammer still in his hand, he could have played this off as something Once-ler did before he disappeared. As it is, he explains it with a shrug and nods towards the bottles that he's obviously trying to pull attention to.

"Were they handing out souvenirs?"

"There wasn't anyone to stop me. It's a kind of alcohol I've never tasted before, so I thought you could appreciate it. Don't you like the hard stuff?"

He sets the bottles down on the grand piano as he passes on his way to see just what the silly man is attempting. Really, what on Earth?

"Something Lucrezia requested?"

Spike attempts a smile, since he'd rather go on that assumption than hint that he can't enjoy it like he used to. That's at least one thing he's kept Joshua from finding out. "I'm touched."

Although now it's pretty clear that he's going to have to address the shelf. Maybe it's not the fanciest thing in the mansion, but at least it looks like it'll hold. There was real effort involved there. "I came up with that on my own. It's yours."

"A shelf... My birthday isn't for another couple months. And it's late for Christmas."

He sits down to straddle the piano bench, deciding not to test the shelf by wriggling it. Poor Spike might not appreciate his hard work accidentally getting broken just because Joshua was curious.

"What did you do wrong?"

Since Spike's not a real life carpenter, it's best if he waits to test it until later. He'll be lucky if he anchored it enough to withstand an entire row of books.

"I'm just clearing out my debts." By building a shelf. So obvious it hardly needs explaining.

After a moment's contemplation, Joshua bursts into laughter, pulling a bottle over to yank the cork out with his hand. Corkscrews are for wusses, clearly.

"You think a shelf is equal to your debts? Your sense of humor is even worse than the castle's."

He watches that bottle rather than making eye contact, since it didn't sound like he wanted to toast his hard work. And it seemed like such a good idea at the time. At least it made him laugh, right? Spike can pretend that's what he was going for.

"Well, you have to start somewhere."

"I suppose you do."

The laughter has at least alerted one of the maids that the master's back, so she's soon standing in the doorway only for a moment before leaving again to fetch glasses when she sees the bottles of liquor.

"What's next? A little house for the tiger? You take such excellent care of me and mine, Spike."

He looks back at his shelf like he's seeing it for the first time, or trying to decide if it made sense to put it up at all. There's a strong possibility that he didn't put a lot of thought into his decision to come over here. Everything that went on, he just felt compelled.

"Not always." -- Well, that came out. Maybe he didn't catch it with his back turned, but Spike definitely said it.

It's unfair of Joshua to be so hard on the older man, maybe. It's a kind gesture, the shelf, as Joshua always likes places to put his nick nacks or most prized books. Thoughtful gifts like this resonate with him far more than gifts born of simple expense.

But there's too much else brewing beneath the surface as he observes Spike, the maid soon reappearing to offer two glasses on a tray for Joshua. He accepts both with a thank you, then waves a hand for her to leave.

One glass is filled and held out. Never mind that this is not the type of alcohol to be drunk from a full glass.

"No? Is there something on your mind? There must be, with such spontaneous activity."

Spike's attention turns to the maid, and he watches her until she leaves and the glass is in his hands. He's always been a generous host. When Spike speaks again, it's like his jaw was simply pried loose and his words fall freely.

"I take advantage sometimes. Even times when I know better." Simply put. "That's why."

"You do." Simple enough. "But is it really taking advantage when we're both aware of it?"

This is strange, though, enough for Joshua to observe. People had been acting a bit strangely at the party, but Spike hadn't been there. He hasn't even touched the alcohol yet.

Shrugging, Joshua takes a sip of his own as if to prove that no, it's not poison. Unless you drink a whole bottle, that is. No liver would appreciate that, be it demon or human.

"Unless there's something I'm not aware of. Everyone has their secrets, hm?"

It wouldn't be the first bottle Spike went through to test the limits of his loss. That whole subject is better off untold, and he takes drinks some of his glass just to reassure him that he's feeling fine.

"About a shelf's worth, anyway."

Joshua says nothing in warning him to take it easy. It would make everything more fun, or even easier, the faster he become inebriated. At least that was his original line of thought, but the man seems fairly loose lipped already. Thinking again on some of the proverbs from the party, Joshua drums his fingers against the stem of the glass.

"A lot can go on a shelf. Maybe it shouldn't be underestimated after all. Thanks, Spike."

He holds the glass out in a mock cheers, before taking a heavier drink. Frankly he doesn't like the flavor, much preferring sweet drinks, but it takes two to drink. Or something.

Spike might have taken all the fun out of holding his liquor, but he can still taste it. That was really the biggest insult of all; he knows exactly what he's missing.

Although this does put him in a different position than he's used to. He takes another drink.

"Like I said, it was the least I could do."

"The least..."

Joshua seems to relax, turning his attention to the piano and reaching to press down on a key. "You are a professional at getting away with the least, aren't you? It's how you stay under the radar so well."

A drum of his fingers to let out a soft melody. Mary Had A Little Lamb. It's easy to play with one hand.

"What would happen if you offered your best, I wonder? What would that look like?"

The weight lifted from doing a favor only seems to take him so far. He should have guessed that it wouldn't be met with overwhelming gratitude. He's too familiar with this type of game.

"Sometimes they're the same thing." As if he doesn't know what Joshua is getting at. It'd be hard not to, but thankfully Spike seems to be getting better at holding his commentary back. "I'm not much of a carpenter."

The tune continues on, right back to the beginning once it's through. Over and over, and he doesn't look up.

"Then let's take a look at the skills you do have, hm?"

Who knew this song could sound so... disturbing. Spike is careful not to tense up at the prodding question, but he also doesn't drop the hammer he still holds in one hand.

"There's not a lot for an out of work bounty hunter to brag about."

"You haven't been a bounty hunter in a long time. You should start looking for a new job, Spiegel."

The song ends with a suddenness, before it reaches the last key, all fingers slam down at once to release a most disturbing clash of sounds that easily echo in such an expansive room.

Somehow his glass is empty, despite being disgusted by the flavor. It's something easy to get past when distracted by other things; other thoughts, other cares. There are few things for Joshua to care about, but maybe that's why his attentions are so intense on what few there are.

He doesn't look over his shoulder, still staring at the piano, and the glass and bottle resting atop it. It's subtle, but everything about his tone and posture suggest something altogether different from mere minutes before.

"Bodyguard? Spy? ...Thief?"

If Spike was under the impression that something had gotten out, it's cemented with the harsh bang of keys. The tension in the room shifts completely, just that fast.

It was always a risk; what he's been doing. Knowing himself, that fact may have been a driving factor that he labeled as morality. Everyone knows he's more selfish than that.

He stares ahead, impassively waiting for the rest of that accusation to come out. "If you're offering me a job, I'm all ears."

"It seems like I didn't need to. You've been working hard finding your new niche, and not shying away from all forms of payment."

The bench scrapes against the floor as he stands, finally looking over his shoulder. Despite it all, he smiles.

"But it's debts you came here to settle, so let's figure out that payment."

He sets the glass down as Joshua gets up, the only sign that he's prepared for whatever he means. Even then, he won't acknowledge which action set him off. The same way he won't explain what the shelf was making up for.

"Not good enough, huh?"

"Maybe it ought to be, but it seems your debt just keeps growing and growing... I hate to keep you in such a position, it seems almost unfair. Our friendship is unbalanced."

There's no tell to help even an experienced fighter know he's about to move, the speed of his actions enough to seem as if he disappeared to a human eye. He might as well have teleported, with how quickly he's in Spike's face, horns visible and both hands gripping the man, one at his throat and the other his wrist, keeping that hammer from trying anything funny.

The growl is something only an animal should be capable of, or a demon.

"I care, so let's go ahead and level it out a little bit right now. I'm sure you'll sleep much better at night."

The hammer didn't have a chance to move an inch before it's held down by a sudden force. The invisible movement doesn't startle Spike as much as it would have, since it's not the first time he's been in this exact position. Too bad he already got a warning.

He grins, like he usually does when someone makes a joke when their hands are at his throat, but it falters almost immediately. Always the throat.

"I'm sure." His voice barely comes out, which is always the struggle. If there's even a hint of fear in the way his heart picks up the pace, he can push it back with a showing of bravado. Against Joshua, that's all he usually has.

It is really sorry, because Joshua has indeed once before given Spike a warning. It had been nothing more than a spook, no violence had been used, but the message had been clear. Spike walked a fine line, and he needed to learn to balance himself better.

Bravado is forever lost on Joshua, such moments too intense for the power of the horns to ignore. Any surface thoughts of Spike's would have trouble remaining hidden, whether or not Joshua wishes to hear. He never wishes to hear, because nobody has pleasant thoughts.

At least, Joshua Christopher has never been permitted to hear any.

"How much are you sure of, Spike?" He squeezes, fingertips digging into his neck with enough force to make it difficult to speak, but still possible to breathe. He doesn't actually care what the man has to say. They are already beyond that, made clear by the force he throws the man across the room, right at at one of the much sturdier book cases.

The hammer, however, remains with this one.

"How sure can you be of anything when you can't even trust your own memory? How sure can you be of what the world means when you will never remember her, hm?"

And he started out with such good intentions.

Above anything else, Spike was sure that he was about to have his throat ripped out and shown to him; so he's somewhat less prepared for being used as a human missile.

It's hard for him to tell if a shelves he slams into break on impact, or if that noise is his spine cracking over the sound of tumbling books. His fall to the ground is just as graceful, and his suddenly free hand clutches at his side as he struggles to catch his breath. It takes exactly that long to register pain. Either by strategy or physical ability, he doesn't immediately attempt to get to his feet again.

Spike's done smiling, in any case, and Joshua doesn't have to be a mind reader to gleam his thoughts at just catching part of his questions. Hatred shines in his eyes bright enough to know when he's struck the nerve. It never was very hard, but now at least he isn't pretending.

It's refreshing sometimes, to see such plain emotions resonating, but he also needs to be careful. Igniting passions too strong can backfire for Joshua, and as a result everyone around him. But the noise isn't that loud, not enough to crash around inside his head. Instead it's a buzzing; needles that prick inside his ears and drive him further on, as if it's Spike's fault they're in such a position.

Which it is, it is. Does it matter that it's the castle that instigated when Spike had been following Lucrezia far more than necessary, laying the ground work for trouble? It was a fine line, to protect her when Joshua was away, and then to merely come up with excuses for her presence.

In the sudden silence that follows the crash, all that can be heard is the poor disjointed breathing of the other man trying to catch his breath, and Joshua's steps as he slowly crosses the room. The glass Spike had been holding was broken already, so he doesn't care as it crunches underfoot. And that's the shoe that suddenly slams down hard on the same hand he'd grabbed earlier, showing little mercy as he leans all of his weight down. Not enough to break anything, yet, but disturbingly close.

"I understand, Spike, more than anyone else can, what that kind of life is like. It was my first loss. The castle completely took my memory of my sister. For so long, I couldn't trust my eyes or my ears. I was so eager to have her at my side that I saw her where she wasn't."

Almost casually, he tosses the hammer into the air, catching it with his other hand and wriggling it between two fingers. This is when the same maid from earlier hurries in, coming at the sound of destruction, only to stand still with a blank face when she sees the sight before her. She even turns to go, but Joshua points the hammer in her direction, not looking up from where he has Spike pinned.

"It's cold. Make a fire."

She doesn't hesitate before getting to work, as she had been one of the few to remain from working with Zelman and Legato. They had even tolerated Riful for a time, so would something like this phase them, as highly as they're paid? Hardly. Why would they care what happens to Travelers?

"So anyway, what was I saying... Right. Spike, I think you've gotten a little confused like I once did."

Edited 2014-02-05 01:05 (UTC)

The time it takes for Joshua to cross the room would have been an excellent opportunity to draw a gun, or anything else Spike would normally have ready if he was planning a surprise visit to the mansion. This time, his good will had apparently made him even more forgetful than Joshua's implying.

Maybe it wouldn't have mattered. Well, it wouldn't have in the sense that he was facing losing odds almost as soon as he entered the room, but there's a chance that it may have done a better job at releasing some of the anger that makes it so hard to focus on anything other than the words coming out of Joshua's mouth. Anger that would seem unreasonable if it wasn't at least partially true.

The heel crushing his hand helps that problem.

Spike lets out a pained cry, which he only belatedly stifles with considerable effort, and only after a failed attempt to jerk his hand back when he starts talking to someone else. His tongue twists around in his mouth, still trying to respond, only to let him know that he's paying attention.

"Is that right?"

He had expected something like that, really. A gun, or even a punch, but maybe he was a little too carried away when throwing Spike. So often Joshua has to hold back in Paradisa; around Lucrezia, even around Cassandra. Around everybody, he must always take an extra care to be gentle and slow. It's a release not to have to worry so much over it, but even in this he has to hold back, or Spike would have been dead the moment Joshua grabbed him.

The heel of his shoe twists, bones grinding as they struggle not to crack, and the sound is familiar. This entire scene is familiar, drawing back to a time when he knew Colette as his sister, and Valentine as his poor, misguided 'friend'. Just as Spike now is, but there's no sweet blonde here to stop Joshua from going any further.

Before the bones can actually break, he removes his foot, allowing Spike a moment to nurse it as he wills, or attempt an attack of his own if he's foolish enough. He wouldn't fault anyone self-defense, whether or not they're in the wrong.

"She...is not...Julia."

All smiles are gone as he hovers over Spike and the books scattered about them, hammer hanging at his side as if he hasn't yet decided just what to do with it while the maid continues to attempt to get a roaring fire going in the hearth near the piano.

"So clear out your head, Spiegel, and remember just how things ought to be."

The moment the pressure is off of his hand, Spike reflexively pulls it towards his chest and blinks away the black spots that twinkled in his vision when it seemed so close to breaking. If he had the death wish everyone seemed to settle him with, he would just wait for the hammer to come crashing into his skull. As it is, he still wants to prove a point.

-- Even if that point is that he's not so insane that he pictures her as someone else. How could he, when he has a harder time remembering Julia's face with each day that passes? He's always hated being psychoanalyzed by someone who thinks he has him all figured out. Especially one who does.

Joshua may not even be trying to provoke him at this point; only dragging it out. Spike is aware of the fire, mostly the warmth and the sound of crackling wood as someone keeps adding to it. Someone who has the decency to keep out of their conversation.

Like most of his decisions, it's more of a survivor's instinct that gets his legs under him again than any real plan, and it aids him in his last ditch effort to move towards the hearth.

There's almost way he'll make it to the car he has parked outside, which is typical. To his credit, he does make it over the pile of books with one scrambled jump, but he's unsteady on his feet. If he can just be fast enough to get the piano between them, he'll have a few extra seconds to reach the only leverage he has available. The maid better be paying attention.

And in response, Joshua doesn't even move, almost a mockery of allowing him this handicap, eyes following him wherever he goes as the maid remains crouched in her corner, poking at the wood to help the flames grow. Joshua merely stands there like he's waiting for something, and he is, he definitely is. He may be a lot of things, but he doesn't get any particular enjoyment out of stepping on fleas. More than anything, he craves challenges; foes worthy of respect and focus.

Spike, if he could only be more than a self-destructive human, has always had that potential. He thinks outside the box, his reactions can occasionally be unpredictable even for Joshua, and above all, he is not as stupid as he acts. More than anything, maybe that frustrates this 'teenager'.

He has never appreciated being patronized.

"I opened up my home to you... I've gone out of my way to cater to your forgotten romantic whims. I've healed you when you were too stupid to stay out of trouble.

"But it must just eat at you that someone like me...a monster...knows her better than you, and will continue to, at least unless someone changes your loss. Is that what you want, friend? You didn't have to provoke me, all you had to do was ask. My loss changed; maybe yours can, too."

Edited 2014-02-05 04:14 (UTC)

Joshua's allowance for him to reach the hearth is taken at face value. Spike makes it there because Joshua doesn't have any reason to feel threatened. This could have been over already, and now he's put his own employee in jeopardy.

Even with the injured hand, fighting with a maid over the poker she's using shouldn't be an issue. He's yanking it from her grasp when Joshua worms into his ear again, and he mistakenly gives the girl a fiercer look than she likely deserves for all her hard work.

"Stop talking about her." Joshua's not the only one who knows her better, and it's not the first time that fact has been thrown in his face by people who think his loss is well deserved. That alone may account for the frustrated growl that he mistakenly lets out. There's only so much he can take. "She's gone. Remembering her isn't going to change that."

A move like that is enough to alarm the maid, but she puts up no fight to keep the poker. She barely utters a sound as she tries to run away, Joshua making no attempt to defend her, only because she hasn't really been attacked. If he had thought she would be struck, he'd certainly step in... Those ones don't come back to life, and it's so hard to find good help these days.

It's only after she flees that Joshua begins to walk towards Spike again, smiling as he holds up the hammer with an almost sheepish look. As in, whoops, guess I'm outclassed.

"Right, I guess she was no more than a ghost and a memory after all."

The speed is ignited again, and Joshua offers no real openings this time, despite his supposed allowance of Spike grabbing the weapon. Joshua doesn't take it from him, instead flashing beside him and gripping the arm that holds it, slamming both arm and iron poker directly into the fire with a force that sends cinders and sparks flying. The fire even burns at Joshua's hand, though at a much slower pace, and he shows no sign of pain.

"No matter how many times you die, you aren't going where she is."

Edited 2014-02-05 05:00 (UTC)

It's times like this that he's reminded how uneven the playing field really is.

What Spike would normally do in a fight doesn't apply to the superhuman. This occurs to him in retrospect, during those few seconds he has to curse at himself for setting things up so perfectly for Joshua to get his (probably justified) revenge.

Spike is usually a resourceful guy, and even outmatched and injured, he can come up with some way to save himself. Anything more clever than asking a self-proclaimed monster to stop. Hearing his own speech flares up something inside of him, so consuming that he doesn't notice the maid leave and barely lifts the metal rod before his momentum is decided for him.

The searing pain that follows should snap him out of it; his arm spasms as it's held in place, and he reflexively tries to let go of the rod in his hand before it begins to blister and hold to his skin like glue. Still, the smell of burning flesh is only secondary to the insult that Joshua keeps pouring into his mounting injuries. It was always his habit to repeat Spike's darkest thoughts back to him, just to let him know that he cares.

He thinks he barks something in return, 'asshole' comes to mind, but it's so hard to get a sentence together when he's watching the flames lick up to the edges of his rolled sleeve. If his other hand wasn't mangled, he'd be able to make a better effort of prying him off. Even attempting that in his state only drives the point home further.

Even those destined to die have a stubborn way of lingering on, and he already knows that this isn't going to be over quickly.

It's probably of little comfort to Spike to know Joshua's also getting hurt in the process, but the saying 'this hurts me more than you' hardly applies. At least Spike isn't calling him an insult that matters, but he hadn't denied Joshua being a monster, which is hurtful really. But aren't they all the same, once they see the horns?

The release of Spike's hand is sudden; maybe due to the flames licking at his sleeve and threatening to spread, or the insult is just a little too rude to allow, but he lets go only to jerk his arm back and slam his elbow straight into Spike's jaw with enough force to easily propel him back. Away from the hearth, at least, though he may need a moment to smother out any fire that's started to threaten his own clothing.

The released fire iron is left, half in the fire and half out, and Joshua seems like he might just ignore it as he holds his own hand to his chest, fist clenching the only sign that the mild burns might hurt in the least. They should heal in a few days, and it wasn't his dominant hand anyway. That's the hand that chooses to take advantage of the fire iron after all, leaning over to take it and drag it out.

With the tip still red hot, Joshua's face had gone beyond human expression by now while he considers it, then looks to the man sprawled on the floor. If he was to mimic Faye's old injury in truth, then he had best see it through. So it's without warning, yet again, then he's standing directly above the man, kicking out roughly with his heel to keep Spike on the ground should he try to get up again.

"Maybe this will teach you some empathy, and you'll never hurt your friends so badly again."

He steps on the singed sleeve, using just enough force to keep Spike's arm in place, before the searing fire poker is shoved down, clean through the man's palm and showing no mercy in avoiding the bones. It's hardly satisfying until he jerks it slightly to the side to hear a few small cracks, and even Joshua knows that this hand will most likely be useless for a long, long time.

But this is a castle of magic, so isn't there always hope that nothing's permanent? Faye was healed, after all, so there's no telling....but not by Joshua, and this won't be any different.

He can barely feel the burns when he releases him. The thought that this isn't a good sign crosses his mind distantly, as if that should be his greatest concern. The sight of his singed skin certainly makes a good case for that, and he holds it to his stomach while he pushes himself up with the other to get to his knees. That fleeting effort is quickly met with a swift kick that easily sprawls him on his back. For a still moment, he stares at the glow of light on the ceiling, and the talking shadow that seems so determined to make an impression.

Like watching a dream.

Apparently the lack of feeling isn't something he had long to worry about; it all comes back with white hot tip of the iron. The black that had been dangling at the edges of his vision quickly moves to swallow him, and he has no idea how much time passes (seconds? minutes?) before he opens them again to see Joshua still standing there with the fire poker nailing his hand to the floor.

This isn't the first time he's done it. Spike always has pushed his luck against forces he had no business rivaling, to the point where trusting him to do differently was never on the table.

His face twists to a horrible grin, as if he suddenly found the humor in those words. Back to where he started.

"Did it hurt?"

Joshua's only reaction at first is just to yank the fire iron back out, needing to keep his foot on the man's wrist if he doesn't want to break the arm in the attempt to wrestle it free; not easy when scalding hot metal touches skin. Is there any comfort in knowing it cauterized the wound, or is that just another good way to keep it from properly healing?

The hand held to his chest is then dropped down to his side, fingers spreading and palm open just so Spike can see...as much as he might be able to. Joshua wonders how much longer he can even stay conscious.

There's still no response in his own expression, nothing to show pain, or even anger. But he feels anger, he does, though the most it shows now is through a subtle growl when he speaks.

"Not as much as yours. I guess I'll have to work on my empathy another time."

As the iron jerks out of his palm, his body convulses to his side, wanting to pull it close if only it wasn't still pinned by Joshua's heel. Some sort of noise leaves his throat then, but it comes from far away and he can't identify with it.

Again he senses the blackness, and his arm shakes on its own as he fights to stay aware. He could kill him the instant he stops responding, and Spike has to wonder if that's really such a bad thing. Another time, he may have even kept a fail safe with him to use at just the right moment. Death wishes. He was right all along.

If not for his artificial eye compensating for his vision, he wouldn't have made out what Joshua is kind enough to show him. It isn't much to look at, but the fire did something. That should be encouraging, and he can only hope to remember that after his eyes finally close.

Joshua stands there for a long time after, merely staring down at Spike's still form with a gaze that sees nothing and everything.

What will you do to Spiegel?

Why do you think I'll do something to him?

The fire iron clatters to the floor next to them, and slowly he removes his foot from the elder man's wrist. There's no sport in killing someone who's unconscious, if there was any sport in this at all, but he hadn't planned on killing, anyway. ...He hadn't planned this at all.

You would if you love me.

Joshua isn't sure what he knows about love, but he does know that Spike had crossed a line with Lucrezia, enough to make her uncomfortable and request this. Enough that Joshua didn't mind too much doing so, but he also understands. He understands that this is a turning point, and the effects of this may not really come to fruition until later. There is no telling where it will lead, but it will be nowhere good, and to that the devil in him lets out a guttural snarl that echoes in a room where nobody can hear. They've made him a monster again without saying the word themselves, and now for it he'll be all alone again. ...Save for her.

Crouching down, Joshua hauls the man up roughly by the least injured arm, his grip bruising and his methods hardly gentle as he speeds him to the castle, so quick in depositing him on the floor of the clinic that it would be a miracle for anyone to spot him. Spike is left there; he's no longer Joshua's problem.

It was nice to have 'friends' for a little while, at least. He'll know better than to miss it.

Edited 2014-02-16 01:01 (UTC)

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closed; feeding my flame

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