[ They're dead, or John's killed them. Like he kills anyone and everyone that gets too close, eventually. Leaving himself alive, and alone.
He doesn't know how to stop. Can't stop. John will keep fighting, and keep killing, until he eventually kills himself, and dies a dog in the street, having fought itself to death.
John shuts his eyes, afraid of what Spike might see, but the wetness leaks through his eyelashes. He can't cry here, now, in front of this person, even if some part of him would gladly break just to do it. To be free, if only for a moment.
His voice is hoarse when he speaks again, raw, like he'd swallowed the glass down along with the half-bottle of whiskey. ]
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[ They're dead, or John's killed them. Like he kills anyone and everyone that gets too close, eventually. Leaving himself alive, and alone.
He doesn't know how to stop. Can't stop. John will keep fighting, and keep killing, until he eventually kills himself, and dies a dog in the street, having fought itself to death.
John shuts his eyes, afraid of what Spike might see, but the wetness leaks through his eyelashes. He can't cry here, now, in front of this person, even if some part of him would gladly break just to do it. To be free, if only for a moment.
His voice is hoarse when he speaks again, raw, like he'd swallowed the glass down along with the half-bottle of whiskey. ]
Was it better?