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everything's gotta burn to get back to its purest state;

all the best has yet to be laid to waste

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[rl] everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend
even if i wanted to.
[Sylar had to execute his plan perfectly. First he had to wait until Friday, which was a trial considering how he'd rather just hop back to Claire's world (His? Was it really his anymore?) and grab her any old time.

But he told her Friday, so he waited. Besides, she had to appreciate the humor of it. Even if she pretended not to when he sent her the video.

Next was waiting for the perfect moment to "borrow" Spike's world-hopping device. Swiping things from his roommates wasn't always easy, but he'd learned to be sneaky and subtle about it. (Or at least, he thought he did.)

Then it was a matter of finding Claire. Luckily, she was in Costa Verde. Easy as pie. Pie she'd soon be baking for him.

In the middle of his house-wide search for Claire, Miss Moppet found him, pouncing on his shoe. It was almost disappointing to see that she was slowly but surely growing up from her original kitten size. Picking her up off the ground, Sylar opted to wait on the living room sofa while entertaining the cat on his lap. Claire would reveal herself sooner or later.]

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You could always do the world a favor and burn it. [ bitter? not at all. ] He's obviously not all that reformed if he's still going all psycho kidnapper! He's just a liar. And when he snaps again like he did with Elle, guess whose fault it'll be?

You think I should kill him. [There's no emotion in his voice, he's just having a hard time following Claire right now.] I should've...

I'm sorry.

[ claire is being highly unfair right now, but she can't help it. she's emotional. and when she's emotional, she gets biased and violent and vengeful. it's a fatal flaw, but that's not gonna stop her. there's an obvious effort towards keeping her tone even instead of letting her emotions run away with her. ]

Did he ever tell you? What he did to me. What he did to all of those people. Everyone that he's hurt -- and he's not sorry for a single one. The only thing he's sorry for is that people see him for what he is.

You're probably right. [It's all he says for a long moment, patting his pockets for cigarettes.] And you have every right, bein' mad at me. Stake me where I stand, if that's what you want.

Or you could sit down with me and I could tell you a story.

I'm not going to stake you. [ For starters, Willow would be mad. On top of that, she really does believe Willow's explanation about Spike's redemption and seeing him want to give Sylar a chance instead of just being evil with him kind of hammered that in. Made it feel more real. ] ... What kind of story?

[He sits down in the grass, gesturing for her to follow.] Surreal, having the Sun on my face like this.

[ With a sigh, she moves to sit beside him, getting comfortable and flopping back onto her back. ] It doesn't hurt?

[Spike shakes his head, stretching out beside her.] Different dimension, different rules.

Maybe you should seriously consider a cross-dimension move. It'd do wonders for your tan. [ She pauses, looking conflicted for a minute, then fixing him with a resigned look. ] If you're thinking this is gonna distract me, you're wrong. I want him dead, and that's not going to change. Not ever. If you won't do it, I will. This isn't the first time I've killed him.

Which brings us to our entertainment for the evening. [He's propping up his head, fingers laced underneath as he levels her with a look of his own.] The year is 1777, the city of New York. Nikki Wood, a slayer. [A look of unbridled pain and regret passes over his eyes, but he goes on.] I killed her, for the reputation. For this coat, in fact. Or one just like it, the original was ruined. [He takes a deep breath, looking back to the sky.]

2003. Sunnydale. Robin Wood. Nikki's son. He tried to kill me, not that I can blame him. Did kill his mum in cold blood. But we worked it out, had a drink. I told him about my mum. We saved the world together.

I look at Sylar and I see me. I look at you. [He looks back at her.] You're his hope, Claire. You're his Buffy. It might be creepy and you may hate him--you'd be bonkers not to. But that's what I see. Can't help what I see.

Edited at 2011-05-03 04:02 pm (UTC)

[ She looks a little surprised by the story -- mostly because even with the virus, she tends to have a hard time putting Spike in an evil light. But that's what it is -- it's being a monster. And he was one, not questions. But he had the advantage of not having a soul and being able to just get one -- Sylar doesn't have that.

On the other hand, she's really honestly flattered in a weird way to be compared to Buffy. Who wouldn't be? So when he finishes, she tries to keep the stress from making her look too genuinely upset as she responds in a strained tone. Because she can't be like Buffy -- especially not when it comes to Sylar. She doesn't have that kind of forgiveness in her. At least, she can't see it.

I never asked to be his Buffy. I never wanted this ... responsibility. I'm not his babysitter and you shouldn't be either -- we can't be responsible for what he does. He's chosen to be the monster he is. I can't just pretend that didn't happen and want to help him.

Never said you had to embrace it. [Spike lets out a puff of breath; he hadn't meant to upset her.] And you're right about one thing. I'm sick of babysitting.

No one's making you do it. You could end it.

What do you propose I do? Just..leave?

If you leave now, all he'll do is lash out. I've watched it happen before. He can't cope, Spike. [ What she's getting at is basically that if Spike wants to stop babysitting, he'd have to kill Sylar. Because she's still holding out on that one. ]

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