TITLE: Lost and found
AUTHOR: Rilja (golf_clap@yahoo.com) RATING: PG-13 DISTRIBUTION: Archives are ok, just tell me were it went so I can go look at it. Others please ask first. DISCLAIMER: Spike and all things Sunnydale belongs to Joss Whedon. FEEDBACK: Yes! Please, I need it to write. That's a big hint, as in 'if you never want to hear from me again don't send me any feedback', unless of course it is to tell me that you never want to hear from me again, in which case, don't. SPOILERS: Not really. SUMMARY: Spike is lost, and drunk, and lost. NOTE: This occurs sometime in the post-chip pre-soul days. NOTE 2: Great big 'Thank you's to my very fast, and very good betas: J. L. Dupre, Pamela and VerĂ³nica. You really came through for me. Thank you. I hope you'll like my final version.
Lost and found
I can't see shit. That old saying that they can't see the forest for all the trees comes to mind and I start to giggle uncontrollably. I look up at the star clear night sky. Where's Dru when I need her? She always went on and on about the stars, especially the North Star. That would have been helpful right about now. I stumble and curse. This is getting me nowhere. The stars twinkle slightly, as if to say 'you've gotten yourself into this. There's nothing we can do'. Well there would be something they could do; if I could only remember which one was the northern star. Then I could at least pretend to know where the hell I'm going.
I stumble a few more times, and wonder how the hell I got myself into this mess. Right, I know this one. After being tossed out of the last open bar, just 'cause I happened to start a small fight, I thought that it would be a great idea to take a stroll through the woods, a shortcut to the crypt. Some shortcut.
Hours later and I'm as lost as a needle in a haysack. That didn't sound right, and I'm starting to get sober. What a way to go. Lost in the fucking forest. The Sunnydale miniature forest no less. I never thought it possible to get lost in the small gathering of trees that is their excuse for a forest. God, can I get more pathetic?
Ok, focus, Spike; you've been in forests larger than this one. Hell, I've been lost in forests larger than this one. Didn't find my way back to civilisation for days. Had to dig myself a grave to keep the sun from frying my sorry ass. Now Dru liked that sort of thing, she loved sleeping under the flowers, said she could feel the worms tickling her stomach. Not my idea of fun, unless you count the times she dug a hole for two, now that was fun.
Ok, focus. Didn't I try this already? Right. I came from over there, somewhere. So the crypt should be that way. And I fall over. Again. Maybe I should just give up and start digging. I roll over on my back. 'Cause the pine needles were getting in my eyes. So this is how it all ends. Lost in the woods, too drunk to even bury myself for protection. Sniff. I close my eyes and wait for sunrise, or soberness, whichever comes first.
I wake some time later. Oh, good, still in the woods. At least I didn't miss the sunrise. I laugh a little and note that I'm a bit more sober. Maybe I'll make it after all. I carefully get up on my feet. Definitely sobering up. I pick a direction and start to walk. The stars are still twinkling and the moon is high.
An hour later and the trees open up to a large clearing. Filled with tombstones. I made it! Only it's the wrong cemetery, but at least I'm out of the woods. I wrap the duster around myself and start off on the long trek to the other side of Sunnydale.
I hate this town.
End.
AUTHOR: Rilja (golf_clap@yahoo.com) RATING: PG-13 DISTRIBUTION: Archives are ok, just tell me were it went so I can go look at it. Others please ask first. DISCLAIMER: Spike and all things Sunnydale belongs to Joss Whedon. FEEDBACK: Yes! Please, I need it to write. That's a big hint, as in 'if you never want to hear from me again don't send me any feedback', unless of course it is to tell me that you never want to hear from me again, in which case, don't. SPOILERS: Not really. SUMMARY: Spike is lost, and drunk, and lost. NOTE: This occurs sometime in the post-chip pre-soul days. NOTE 2: Great big 'Thank you's to my very fast, and very good betas: J. L. Dupre, Pamela and VerĂ³nica. You really came through for me. Thank you. I hope you'll like my final version.
Lost and found
I can't see shit. That old saying that they can't see the forest for all the trees comes to mind and I start to giggle uncontrollably. I look up at the star clear night sky. Where's Dru when I need her? She always went on and on about the stars, especially the North Star. That would have been helpful right about now. I stumble and curse. This is getting me nowhere. The stars twinkle slightly, as if to say 'you've gotten yourself into this. There's nothing we can do'. Well there would be something they could do; if I could only remember which one was the northern star. Then I could at least pretend to know where the hell I'm going.
I stumble a few more times, and wonder how the hell I got myself into this mess. Right, I know this one. After being tossed out of the last open bar, just 'cause I happened to start a small fight, I thought that it would be a great idea to take a stroll through the woods, a shortcut to the crypt. Some shortcut.
Hours later and I'm as lost as a needle in a haysack. That didn't sound right, and I'm starting to get sober. What a way to go. Lost in the fucking forest. The Sunnydale miniature forest no less. I never thought it possible to get lost in the small gathering of trees that is their excuse for a forest. God, can I get more pathetic?
Ok, focus, Spike; you've been in forests larger than this one. Hell, I've been lost in forests larger than this one. Didn't find my way back to civilisation for days. Had to dig myself a grave to keep the sun from frying my sorry ass. Now Dru liked that sort of thing, she loved sleeping under the flowers, said she could feel the worms tickling her stomach. Not my idea of fun, unless you count the times she dug a hole for two, now that was fun.
Ok, focus. Didn't I try this already? Right. I came from over there, somewhere. So the crypt should be that way. And I fall over. Again. Maybe I should just give up and start digging. I roll over on my back. 'Cause the pine needles were getting in my eyes. So this is how it all ends. Lost in the woods, too drunk to even bury myself for protection. Sniff. I close my eyes and wait for sunrise, or soberness, whichever comes first.
I wake some time later. Oh, good, still in the woods. At least I didn't miss the sunrise. I laugh a little and note that I'm a bit more sober. Maybe I'll make it after all. I carefully get up on my feet. Definitely sobering up. I pick a direction and start to walk. The stars are still twinkling and the moon is high.
An hour later and the trees open up to a large clearing. Filled with tombstones. I made it! Only it's the wrong cemetery, but at least I'm out of the woods. I wrap the duster around myself and start off on the long trek to the other side of Sunnydale.
I hate this town.
End.
