Counting… A drabble by Bogwitch
Five minutes to go. Twenty-three hours of waiting.
She isn’t coming. Spike knows that he should have guessed, but his stupid heart always hopes anyway.
Even if she does turn up now, it’s too late – some romantic she was.
He wonders if she’s been delayed. Perhaps something nasty decided tonight was good for a little mayhem.
It was more than sex, wasn’t it? He thought he’d meant something to her. Bloody women.
One minute and he’ll know.
Fine. Angel was right again; he was too optimistic to hope that Illyria would understand Valentine’s Day.
ETA: I forgot to say The canteen at work went all out today. We all had heart-shaped shortbread and all the women got a flower. I repressed my queasyness and partook of the free stuff. :)