it's 6:41 p.m., on 2001-06-05 - Dawn and Spike, Kate's way.
~
"The Historical Significance of the Sacred Band of Thebes, in particular, to the Peloponesian War."
*
The Sacred Band was the first troop of Greeks to defeat a Spartan army with equal or less numbers of people. This defeat gave heart to many of the other Greek poleis and towns which, previously, would not have believed it possible to withstand a Spartan assault.
*
That's part of an essay that I should be writing, but instead I think I'm going to take something of Kate's-- as I'm so wont to do-- and sink into it.
See, she just posted a journal entry about Spike and Dawn.
On the road.
I think I'm in love.
~*~
"How much longer is it?" she asked, and stared at the digital clock and the fuzzy dice.
He'd said the dice were a good-luck charm, an omen somehow, and she hadn't complained. He'd said a lot of things; that UK punk was the best, and that leather and chains would come back in style, and then he'd be a rocker again, and that people, when they're down and out, tend to stick to their own and what they're good at.
Dawn wants to learn how to drive a stick shift.
Dawn wants to learn a lot of things.
"About another hour. Go to sleep, if y'like."
But they both know she won't. One of those pacts you make with people when you're down and out. Don't go to sleep while the headlights are on.
Don't speak of being sad.
Don't talk about her.
"Any more Doritos?"
He spun the wheel, cut off a big black sedan, and both their hearts jumped in fear momentarily, the rush of adrenalin that comes from conquest.
No, not conquest. They weren't winning or losing.
"Think they're in the bag."
The bag at her feet, that meant.
Language means so much in the dark. The fuzzy dice bounced when he swerved, and her head bounced. Spike could still scare money out of stupid college kids and drunk cowboys, and so they were headed east.
Coming from California meant there wasn't any more west to run.
~*~
I most definitely have a love affair with Kate, now. I mean, I started reading the Invisibles again today, and I started thinking, yeah, Edie and Spike would have gotten along, and Dru would have liked young Tom, maybe, but old Tom was a little less her style.
And she'd do magic, and King Mob and Spike would be a pair of killers turned psychedelic gods.
Does Spike crave the thrill, the affection and love, or respect, the most?
~*~
"Do you have enough?"
"Yeah, I got it. Don't worry, nibblet. We're gonna have some fun."
"Are you--" and she stops. "I think I'll have a shower, okay?"
He grins at her. "I think I'll have a smoke."
~*~
They're going to New York, to subways and neighborhoods, and all those things that you want, need, crave, and Dawn won't sleep in the car, and somewhere around Arkansas, Spike gets Dawn a driver's licence for farm vehicles, and teach her all about the road.
There's one lesson that he knows far too well.
See, once she learned how to drive, during the day he covers himself with a blanket, and lets her yell and finger drivers, let her get that *feeling*. It wouldn't replace-- what she'd lost, but it would be something.
He's only got something. He doesn't have the world.
~*~
That's enough for now, because it's quarter to seven and that's my class, and today in ancient history I think I'm going to be thinking about Myrmidons and Achilles and Spike raging against a deserted truck stop, Ragged Robin shaking her head sadly. "Why didn't the bastard just get *off* the ship, already! Wait around and prove you're a man, no fucking way. Why didn't he *do* something. Achilles was a wanker."
And that little voice in his head, which might be Dawn every time she looked at him, and might be his own demon feeling fawned over and pathetic, would be saying, 'you had the balls to do something. You *could*.'
It just wasn't enough, and there isn't any magic in making that change.
~*~
~
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