forthedog: (sharp relief)
Mike Pinocchio ([personal profile] forthedog) wrote2013-11-18 05:31 pm
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The asylum is whispering.

It always does. It's the wind through bars and broken windows, shredded cloth and hanging plastic, through abandoned rooms and hallways and past decades of cracked, flaking paint. Once he had thought of it as an unfriendly sound, malevolent and worrying, and it's still malevolent, but he no longer feels threatened and he certainly feels no need to worry.

In some ways, this is the closest to home that part of himself ever gets now. He's been spending more and more time here, wandering, listening to the whispers.

And then of course there's the company. Of more than one kind.

The place is technically abandoned, but abandoned is only ever a technical term in a place like Darrow. He and Spike aren't the only things moving in the dark.

In the building's large front atrium he stops, listening. "Cheerful fucking place, isn't it?"
bloodyanimal: (Default)

[personal profile] bloodyanimal 2013-11-25 05:33 pm (UTC)(link)
His steps were careful, but not particularly cautious. There were dangers here, but the threat was relatively minimal. Besides, he'd never been one to pussyfoot around.

"Just like home," he snorted, a smirk curling his lips. "Does that boy of yours know how much time you're spending in this lovely little place? He finds out how much fun you're having, he's liable to get jealous."
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[personal profile] bloodyanimal 2013-12-02 05:48 pm (UTC)(link)

"You and I might be the only poor sods in the universe to get all soppy and nostalgic over a rat infested dump like this one, mate," Spike smirked, toeing at a tin can on the floor at his feet, so crumpled and faded its origin was a mystery.

"So, you bring me here just to show off your man cave, or have you got other plans?"

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[personal profile] bloodyanimal 2013-12-04 03:51 am (UTC)(link)

Spike cut Mike a look of his own. He'd been joking, clearly, but it probably wasn't that far off, as an analogy. An abandoned asylum was the Mike Pinocchio equivalent of leather recliners, wide screen televisions, mini-fridges and football memorabilia.

"Who says we've got to choose?" Spike said, already walking ahead in search of those shuffling footsteps.

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[personal profile] bloodyanimal 2013-12-07 04:18 am (UTC)(link)

"Two, at least. Or something with a whole lotta legs," he said with a snort, "I don't know about you, but more than four and my skin starts to crawl."

It was definitely two, though the echoes made it harder to tell just where they were both coming from. That didn't stop him from hurrying towards a darkened, crumbling stairwell, doing nothing to try and quiet his approach.

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[personal profile] bloodyanimal 2013-12-12 04:48 am (UTC)(link)

"Suppose the realtor failed to mention there were already tenants," Spike smirked, clambering up the steps purposefully. Sneaking in quiet-like wasn't his style.

At the top of the next flight, he tried a door, which appeared to be either locked or rusted shut. Taking a step back, he busted through with one powerful kick.

bloodyanimal: (True face.)

[personal profile] bloodyanimal 2013-12-16 04:18 am (UTC)(link)
Spike, unfortunately, would never show the same restraint. As soon as the dust settled, he was game-faced and striding forward. While he didn't throw the first punch -- that one, he swiftly ducked, jagged teeth on full, grinning display-- he certainly threw the second, and the third, and added a swift knee to the teeth, for good measure.

"You're right, mate. This would be the perfect place to wind down, have a beer."
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[personal profile] bloodyanimal 2013-12-19 05:06 am (UTC)(link)

"Saw a perfectly good couch in an alley, few blocks from here. Leather and everythin', hardly any questionable stains," he said, lifting one of the vamps fully off his feet and hurling him into a pile of debris. It landed with a snarl, a broken shard of wood piercing through it's shoulder, missing the heart but causing more than a bit of discomfort.

"It'd look perfect against that wall, there."

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[personal profile] bloodyanimal 2013-12-29 04:04 am (UTC)(link)

"I was all hung up, what to get you for Christmas. Thanks, mate," Spike said, standing just out of range of the vampire's grasping fingers, where it lay still skewered on that shard of wood. The vampire snarled, heaved itself off of the makeshift stake and lunged at him, getting in a punch, and another, before Spike knocked him off his feet again with a powerful kick to the gut. It landed, again, this time skewered through the other shoulder. "Oh, come on," it snarled.

Laughing, Spike kicked another shard of broken wood into the air, caught it, and plunged it through the vampire's heart, just as vampire number three tackled him from the side, sending them both flying to the floor.

bloodyanimal: (Damn right I'm awesome)

[personal profile] bloodyanimal 2014-01-05 04:19 am (UTC)(link)
Spike might've made a crack about playing with your food, only Mike presumably had no intention of making a meal of his prey. This was purely a game, now, one that Spike would enthusiastically participate in. The dance had always been his favorite part.

He was laughing when he landed hard on his back, lying sprawled for only a moment before flipping his attacker over and reclaiming the upper hand.

"Careful," he said to Mike, "You wouldn't believe what a pain it is, getting blood out of concrete."

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[personal profile] bloodyanimal 2014-01-08 04:21 am (UTC)(link)
"You know, you and Angelus might've had quite the time, back in the day," Spike said, "before he got all bor--" He was cut off by a punch landing across his jaw. Letting out an annoyed growl, he looked down at the vampire he happened to still be straddling, and smashed the heel of his hand into its nose. "I'm trying," he said, landing another punch, "to have," and another, "a conversation here."

Reaching for the stake inside his coat, he plunged it into the vampire's heart. It looked up him, their yellow eyes meeting, before it collapsed into dust.
bloodyanimal: (Damn right I'm awesome)

[personal profile] bloodyanimal 2014-01-12 06:16 am (UTC)(link)
It had always been a dance. Sex and blood, a good fight and a good fuck would always land in the same category. It was the reason he'd fallen for Buffy. He knew that, always had. She'd punched him enough times, he couldn't stop thinking about her, dreaming about her. And the rest was history.

So, while he wasn't aching to get off, just then, he did feel a bit of that old tug, that desire for blood, for warmth and heat and life, that he knew quite well that Mike could provide.

But it was all bagged blood for Spike, these days. It was a sacrifice, a rather large one, he'd been prepared to take.

Instead, he fished out a cigarette as he pushed to his feet. "Don't get too excited, pet. Haven't known you all that long, in the scheme of things. I might lose interest, yet."