someday i will walk away
Jan. 27th, 2026 04:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerthis specific icon was randomly chosen for this post and is so ironic I had to keep it
Main Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Constantine|Hellblazer
Summary: Spike came out here to get some peace from the Scoobies. He's not getting that, but he might not mind.
Word Count: 900
Rating: Teen, with the warnings. because it wouldn't be constantine or hellblazer without the warnings
Warnings: general Constantine warnings, including but not limited to Xander's self-hatred and self-destructive tendencies and smoking. The potential cheating is probably more on NBC John than Hellblazer John, unless it's all on Xander or the whole thing was actually Anya's idea in the first place because she thought it was hot.
Dealing with the goody two-shoes brigade is bad enough. Some days a vampire playing mercenary just can’t stand his would-be employers, but seeing as he can’t do the self-respecting demon of the night thing and tear their throats out, at the mo, the very least he can do is take a break from their nonsense.
But he’s followed. Anyone else, he’d say they’re keeping an eye on him, because none of them trust him, and rightly so. But it’s the boy. He doesn’t particularly like dealing with any of them, all so condescending and convinced they’re in the right, but the rest are predictable. Predictable is easier to deal with. Sometimes, it results in your grand-sire trying to end the world in a predictably short-sighted fashion, all bravado and swagger until they realize down to the last vampire that oh, yeah, where’s the blood stock going to come from, eh? But at least that’s easier to plan around. It’s not exactly his way, predictability. Gets boring. But he prefers being the unpredictable one in the room, and not being able to read Harris gets unsettling.
And then all the boy does is stare. Doesn’t lecture, and it’s not a distrustful glance, either. If anything, it’s...hungry. It’s not just lust. Oh, it’s there, and understandable, that. Spike is a damn sexy vampire, if he does say so himself. It’s something else Spike can’t understand that makes a cold chill run up his spine. “The hell is your problem, mate?”
The smile is pure self-depreciation. “It’s not like I’m supposed to have a fag, am I?”
It takes Spike a moment to re-translate the sentence back into the tongue of his homeland, even if the accent is perfectly accurate. He’s been spending too long in the States. “Who says? Better to stay a free agent, yeah?”
“Seeing as I’m the one imposing the rule, best I keep it. But the looking and smelling’s free. So’s the lung cancer, but them’s the breaks, eh?” Harris shrugs, smile nothing more than a weapon, sharp and deadly. Spike had thought Harris’s comments on Halloween were just an attempt to get under his skin, and, well, he was only half right. He recognizes that hunger in the glance, now that it’s named aloud. An empty void, begging to be filled, as if there’s even a chance. He’d say it was just the demon, but that’d be a lie; the desire to love and be loved had been enough, for a good long while, but with Dru tossing him aside it was back with a bitter taste on his lips.
“For a human, yeah.” He takes a drag and breathes out long and slow right into Harris’s face, and bloody hell all the boy does is breathe in, smile on his face, and Spike has half a mind to crowd him up against a wall and go for a proper snog, if he’s going to be so transparent about his desires. “Sure you don’t want a taste?”
“If I leap off that ledge, there’s no walking away.” Spike’s not entirely sure who that’s meant to warm. If it’s Spike, he truly doesn’t care. He’s a demon and all that rot and he is right and well deprived. “I’ll just window shop.”
“Lean too far, and you’ll fall. You’re not too good to resist temptation.” They’re kindred spirits, and while Spike is good at self-control when it’s part of the plan, that’s just because he has half of a brain.
“Suppose you’re right. The void’s calling, and here’s my answer.” He plucks the cigarette from Spike’s lips, but rather than taking in a smoky lungful for himself he puts it out, dropping it and crushing it underfoot. Any protests die when Harris leans in, hunger directed and controlled and consuming, and then proceeds to thoroughly chase any taste and smell of smoke from Spike’s own mouth. He’s smiling when he finally backs away, hunger temporarily sated. Spike doesn’t actually expect Harris to pull out another one from the box, not with that look, but it turns out he’s just replacing it as if nothing had happened, and with a flourish of the hand he summons a flame dancing on his fingers, lighting it again.
“Apologies for interrupting a sacred ritual. Needed some air myself. Feel free to rejoin when you’ve found your calm.” He waves one-handed as he walks away.
Spike suspects despite the illusion Harris had conjured, he very well might have walked out with this entire scenario mapped out in his mind. But he’s hardly the only one playing the game. “Harris?”
“It’s Xander,” the boy corrects gently, hands in his pockets. He doesn’t even turn, but it seems as if he’d been expecting even this.
“With an opening like that, I wouldn’t mind catching you the next time you fall.” And at least they wouldn’t be so alone—even Xander, with the demoness waiting at home.
“I wouldn’t want you breaking bones when you’re also in free fall,” Xander responds. It’s not a no, and it’s...oddly sweet, that anyone cares about Spike getting hurt, these days. Maybe the hunger’s been sated for more than just one of them, today. Everything but the contentment disappears into the night, with the smoke, and Spike actually finds himself smiling, too, when usually he’d be tempted to pull Xander back and really be persuasive about the benefits of continuing.
Main Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Constantine|Hellblazer
Summary: Spike came out here to get some peace from the Scoobies. He's not getting that, but he might not mind.
Word Count: 900
Rating: Teen, with the warnings. because it wouldn't be constantine or hellblazer without the warnings
Warnings: general Constantine warnings, including but not limited to Xander's self-hatred and self-destructive tendencies and smoking. The potential cheating is probably more on NBC John than Hellblazer John, unless it's all on Xander or the whole thing was actually Anya's idea in the first place because she thought it was hot.
Dealing with the goody two-shoes brigade is bad enough. Some days a vampire playing mercenary just can’t stand his would-be employers, but seeing as he can’t do the self-respecting demon of the night thing and tear their throats out, at the mo, the very least he can do is take a break from their nonsense.
But he’s followed. Anyone else, he’d say they’re keeping an eye on him, because none of them trust him, and rightly so. But it’s the boy. He doesn’t particularly like dealing with any of them, all so condescending and convinced they’re in the right, but the rest are predictable. Predictable is easier to deal with. Sometimes, it results in your grand-sire trying to end the world in a predictably short-sighted fashion, all bravado and swagger until they realize down to the last vampire that oh, yeah, where’s the blood stock going to come from, eh? But at least that’s easier to plan around. It’s not exactly his way, predictability. Gets boring. But he prefers being the unpredictable one in the room, and not being able to read Harris gets unsettling.
And then all the boy does is stare. Doesn’t lecture, and it’s not a distrustful glance, either. If anything, it’s...hungry. It’s not just lust. Oh, it’s there, and understandable, that. Spike is a damn sexy vampire, if he does say so himself. It’s something else Spike can’t understand that makes a cold chill run up his spine. “The hell is your problem, mate?”
The smile is pure self-depreciation. “It’s not like I’m supposed to have a fag, am I?”
It takes Spike a moment to re-translate the sentence back into the tongue of his homeland, even if the accent is perfectly accurate. He’s been spending too long in the States. “Who says? Better to stay a free agent, yeah?”
“Seeing as I’m the one imposing the rule, best I keep it. But the looking and smelling’s free. So’s the lung cancer, but them’s the breaks, eh?” Harris shrugs, smile nothing more than a weapon, sharp and deadly. Spike had thought Harris’s comments on Halloween were just an attempt to get under his skin, and, well, he was only half right. He recognizes that hunger in the glance, now that it’s named aloud. An empty void, begging to be filled, as if there’s even a chance. He’d say it was just the demon, but that’d be a lie; the desire to love and be loved had been enough, for a good long while, but with Dru tossing him aside it was back with a bitter taste on his lips.
“For a human, yeah.” He takes a drag and breathes out long and slow right into Harris’s face, and bloody hell all the boy does is breathe in, smile on his face, and Spike has half a mind to crowd him up against a wall and go for a proper snog, if he’s going to be so transparent about his desires. “Sure you don’t want a taste?”
“If I leap off that ledge, there’s no walking away.” Spike’s not entirely sure who that’s meant to warm. If it’s Spike, he truly doesn’t care. He’s a demon and all that rot and he is right and well deprived. “I’ll just window shop.”
“Lean too far, and you’ll fall. You’re not too good to resist temptation.” They’re kindred spirits, and while Spike is good at self-control when it’s part of the plan, that’s just because he has half of a brain.
“Suppose you’re right. The void’s calling, and here’s my answer.” He plucks the cigarette from Spike’s lips, but rather than taking in a smoky lungful for himself he puts it out, dropping it and crushing it underfoot. Any protests die when Harris leans in, hunger directed and controlled and consuming, and then proceeds to thoroughly chase any taste and smell of smoke from Spike’s own mouth. He’s smiling when he finally backs away, hunger temporarily sated. Spike doesn’t actually expect Harris to pull out another one from the box, not with that look, but it turns out he’s just replacing it as if nothing had happened, and with a flourish of the hand he summons a flame dancing on his fingers, lighting it again.
“Apologies for interrupting a sacred ritual. Needed some air myself. Feel free to rejoin when you’ve found your calm.” He waves one-handed as he walks away.
Spike suspects despite the illusion Harris had conjured, he very well might have walked out with this entire scenario mapped out in his mind. But he’s hardly the only one playing the game. “Harris?”
“It’s Xander,” the boy corrects gently, hands in his pockets. He doesn’t even turn, but it seems as if he’d been expecting even this.
“With an opening like that, I wouldn’t mind catching you the next time you fall.” And at least they wouldn’t be so alone—even Xander, with the demoness waiting at home.
“I wouldn’t want you breaking bones when you’re also in free fall,” Xander responds. It’s not a no, and it’s...oddly sweet, that anyone cares about Spike getting hurt, these days. Maybe the hunger’s been sated for more than just one of them, today. Everything but the contentment disappears into the night, with the smoke, and Spike actually finds himself smiling, too, when usually he’d be tempted to pull Xander back and really be persuasive about the benefits of continuing.
