Log in

No account? Create an account

Spike's Journal

Chicks dig the duster....


Spike soft


July 25th, 2010


Spike soft
I think I might have been deleted. Not funny.

November 10th, 2006

Spike's Journal

Spike Red
Here we are… only about an hour from Heathrow, thank bloody goodness!

Airplane seats are designed by Felcram Spawn and their knees bend in a completely different direction than mine. Wes is prosing on about the stupidity of serving coffee in such small cups and my stomach feels like my ribs are about to make an acquaintance with my back bone.

I’m hungry, and the airplane breakfast of rubber eggs and grease sticks masquerading as sausage is not what I’m craving.

Was a time that I’d just slip off to the loo, drag one of the hostesses in with me… and not all of them would have been unwilling… and have a quick bite and a slurp, drain her completely and be back in my seat in 15 minutes or so with no one the wiser.

Wouldn’t do that now, of course, but none of them would miss a pint or two.

Right. No more thinking about that. Harris is picking us up at the airport and, in spite of the fact that he doesn’t much like me, he’ll have made arrangements… mostly because he does like Wes.

And Wes, likes him.

Now that’s a thought.

Man’s been pretty fuckin’ miserable since Angel dumped us. Only so much I can make up for, even as good as I am. Wes just seems to be happier and more comfortable in a threesome. It’s like… he needs to see himself reflected back in more than a single pair of eyes before he actually believes that he’s worth something.

So… Wes likes Xan.

I don’t, but…

I have to admit I’ve seen possibilities in him. I could probably bring him around without too much argument. He’s not totally indifferent, no matter what he claims. *eg*

‘Course, it doesn’t *have* to be Xander. Could be someone else… Anyone really, that I think Wes might be attracted too.

Well, anyone but that Andrew berk. Kid is cute but he’d drive us all insane in a week.

But, yeah… that’s a plan. I’m satisfied. Find us a third, and settle. Happy Wes means shagable Wes… and shagable Wes means happy me.

September 23rd, 2006

Spike's Journal

Spike Red
He’s thinking again. Thinking so hard it almost makes my skin crawl from across the room. Could do with a bit less of that, in my opinion. Bloke looks so much better with a smile on his face. A real smile, not that “See? I can smile.“ look that he puts on to humor me. The only time I’ve seen Wes give a real smile in the last few weeks is when he’s been reading one of Harris’ e-mails. The kid always did have a quirky turn of phrase.

Guess that means I’ll have to put up with him when we get to London. Xan-derrr, I mean. That’s not going to be easy. He has a way of getting right up my nose. And worse? He knows it. Knows it and keeps pushing until I want to rip the bleedin’ heart from his chest.

Wes says he’s changed though. Grown up a bit. I can only hope so, because it looks like we might wind up spending a bit of time together, what with Wes referring to Xander as “Little Brother” and all.

In the mean time, there’s Wes, needin’ ta be asleep, and instead, he’s staring out the window like the nightlife of bloody Newfoundland is the most facinatin’ thing he’s seen in his whole life.

Have ta do something about that…

Right… shagging him unconscious. Works for me…

September 4th, 2006

Spike's Journal

Spike soft
I snagged Wes’ laptop to type this journal. I’ll load it up when we hit the ground. Wes doesn’t know what I’m working on… probably thinks I’m playing video games or some such rot.

So, here we are at 40 thousand feet… Wes is fagged out but unable to sleep. Too much on his mind, I guess. Too bloody much always on his mind lately - Life and death and relife. Yeah, spell checker says that’s not really a word, but who the fuck cares? Wonder if I can charm a couple more drinks out of the stewardess… give them both to Wes and maybe he’ll actually sleep.

Off to London, via Newfoundland - what a Bloody God-awful flight plan… but better than Wes carrying me off the plane in a baggy, I guess. And we need to get there… get to England. Need to get some answers before Wes goes insane. And if the fuckin’ Council doesn’t ante up they may just find out why my name is Spike. No more chip, me, and I don’t plan on stayin’ quiet while they jerk him around. Bloody Watchers.

It was supposed to be the three of us here. Me, Wes and the Big Poof. But Angel skived off on us - Let the bloody Slayer turn him back into Captain of the Broody-pants and guilt him into staying away. I say, fuck the bleedin’ Slayer. No… been there, done that… happier now.

Happier with Wes. Yeah… the thought kinda gobsmacked me too, but there it is. Happy, and glad to be here… with him… on a plane.

Best shut this down now. Wes’ eyes are finally drifting shut and he’s started to lean in this direction. Quit typing so I’ll make a comfy pillow and maybe he’ll sleep a bit.
Powered by LiveJournal.com