#;spike

It had taken a bit of haggling, some threatening, and violence to get the information he needed but it hadn’t been too hard. There was no way he was crawling back to Sunnyhell yet nor did he really want to deal with his grandsire and the slayer making moon eyes at each other. It was enough to make him want to heave even without having lost Dru. 

And perhaps it was what little was left of young William in him that led him there...

Nothing had been the same since the latest apocalypse. When Doc had pushed him off the scaffolding, all he had been able to do as he got his wits about him had been to stare up at the two remaining Summers women as the bright portal opened where blood had dripped. 

Blood that he should’ve kept from spilling. 

He tried to get up to head back towards the ladder but his leg gave out underneath him before he could get very far. By the time he could move, there was what was left of Dawn and he couldn’t stop the tears that had flown at seeing her lying there. Next thing he knew, the others were gone. 

It was expected there would be a funeral, a new grave in the plot next to Joyce but there had been nothing. When he had ventured to the Magic Box, every one of them had seemed like they hadn’t just lost one of their own. Between the reactions and the nightmares that replayed that night over in his head, Spike had chosen to stay away for the time being. 

“She's me. The monks made her out of me. I hold her ... and I feel closer to her than ...  It's not just the memories they built. It's physical. Dawn ... is a part of me.”

[Meme (I think?) from @platiinums for Spike.]

"You're obviously not doing this out of the goodness of your heart, so what is it that you want?" ------------

"Ah, the cynic." Thera's eyebrows lifted, smooth and amused, "I can appreciate that." A crumb in the back of her mind wanted to protest, to point out that he didn't know the first thing about her heart, but it barely even rattled the lid of its box. It would show just a bit too much chink in her armour, and she wasn't much bothered what he, specifically, thought of her anyway.

Which, if you squinted at it a little, kind-sorta proved him right.

"What do any of us want, Spike?" Her shoulders moved, casual bordering on an admission of sorts, unspoken; because until he put a pin in it she hadn't looked close enough to be sure. It was her nature, to stick her nose into the kind of mysteries that people - usually high-up, government-type people - would rather keep quiet ... largely because she could, and that made it a bit of an obligation. The fact that this one had gotten personal was just an extra layer added on.