Spike (william_pratt) wrote in walkingscenes, @ 2012-09-19 05:46:00 |
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Entry tags: | buffy summers, spike |
Who: The amazing blondes, Spike and Buffy.
Where: Spike's room.
When: Before shockwaves, after journal.
What: Checking up.
After finishing up his conversation with Buffy, Spike had discarded his phone somewhere in the depths around his bed and covered his head with pillow once more. Cold, freezing and hot at any time and with one bare feet sticking out from beneath the covers, he weakly groaned deep into his pillow. It shouldn't have been an issue, but for one of the few times in his life, he felt better covered up. Warmer, for one thing. And safer. And if he tried really hard, he could pretend his old mum was here, still human and just within reach with a nice, hot cuppa tea.
It was a comforting thought, but the moment he raised his head, his world went dizzy again. Moving his arm was a no go; it was hot to the touch and didn't quite feel attached to his own body. Someone should just kill him and get this whole thing over with. He'd even beg.