Oliver Pike (ex_houndofhe416) wrote in ridgewayresort, @ 2010-04-18 02:21:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | dawn summers, pike |
WHO: Oliver Pike and Dawn Summers
WHAT: Seeing each other for the first time in a very long time.
WHEN: After their chat on the network.
WHERE: Cabin 001
RATING: Let’s go with PG-13, just in case Pike’s mouth acts up.
STATUS: In Progress
Pike hadn’t planned for this at all. He hadn’t planned on ever running into anyone he knew. With the Lord of Compton being alive again after that temporal fold, anyone around him could be in danger, so even if he’d wanted to go to them for help, he couldn’t. It wouldn’t have been right to drag them into the same danger. Yes, Buffy was the Slayer, but that didn’t mean it was okay to just bring down the wrath of a Lord on her. It didn’t hurt that he had no clue how to find them. A very large part of him had been hoping Buffy, Dawn, and those friends of theirs had made it out of Sunnydale before it went all giant sinkhole, but he had no clue where to even begin that investigation.
Now Dawn was here, which meant one of two things: Either they had survived, or they weren’t just being pulled here from different places. Pike had been through a temporal fold once himself, he knew that with the right power, time didn’t necessarily flow in a straight line. And in her big summary of all the things that happened to them, Dawn hadn’t mentioned anything involving Sunnydale collapsing on itself. The sinking feeling in his gut made him suspect that his time theory was the right one.
But he still showed up at Dawn’s cabin. He’d told her he would be there, and barring some kind of greater good excuse, Pike kept his word.
He was nervous. He more than thoroughly deserved a smack, and somehow he didn’t think Dawn would hesitate to give him one if she agreed with that analysis. He wouldn’t do anything about it if she did, but that wasn’t really what he was nervous about. What he was nervous about was the idea that she might not smack him. The thought that she might be happy to see him scared the everloving hell out of him. The Hellhound of Compton, terrified of one little girl and the mere possibility of her forgiveness.
Pike wasn’t ready for forgiveness. He wasn’t sure if he ever would be.
He was also worried she’d ask about his face. Maybe she’d been able to miss it in the little pictures, but face-to-face his scar was absolutely impossible to miss. It was a long, nasty furrow in his face, that started somewhere under the dark bandanna he wore above his left eye and ended just above the right corner of his mouth. You didn't typically miss that unless you were blind. And he wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. The most he could do would be to explain that LA went to Hell and he was there when it did. He knew Dawn probably wouldn’t like the vagueness of his answer, but he wasn’t ready to talk about the torture, or breaking under it and what came after.
But he was here anyway. In fact, he’d been here, outside the door of cabin 1, for about five minutes. He probably looked like an idiot, standing there in his leather jacket and ripped jeans, in his dark bandanna keeping his long hair back and heavy sunglasses, looking for all the world like a big biker that was too scared to lift his hand and knock on the door. And he was big. Last time Dawn saw him, he’d been a fairly skinny little guy just coming out of his teens. He’d put on lots of muscle, the practical kind rather than the showy kind, and he carried himself like a man that knew how he looked and knew how to use what he had. He looked like a real warrior, rather than like the boy pretending to be one, like he’d been back in the day. There were more cares etched on his face than any young man should have. It would be clear from first glance that he'd changed, and that was even with only being able to see one of his many scars. There were more, underneath his clothes, and even more under his skin, where no one could see the still-bleeding wounds but him.
“Christ, this is stupid,” he scolded himself. He lifted his hand and rapped loudly on the door three times. He wasn’t really sure of the protocol in this situation, but somehow he didn’t think just barging on in was the polite way to go about this.