InsaneJournal

spike out on the grounds | mid-late afternoon | ota

It'd only taken a few days out in the sun for Spike to find out that he didn't in fact freckle, as he'd wondered four, nearly five, years ago. Even still, he much preferred to lounge underneath a tree and…not enjoy, really, but take in the summer-like weather.

Typically, he wasn't the summer-loving type. All right, so two centuries ago, he might've written a crappy poem or two comparing a certain bitch to a Shakespearean summer's day, but he'd long ago learned his lesson. Anyway, he wasn't the picnic-having type, not in the least bit, but at the same time, he imagined that if Buffy, or even Dawn, asked, he'd do it, no question.

...Those two had completely changed him, hadn't they? Bloody Summers women.

With a roll of the eyes, he took out a pack of cigarettes he'd (surprisingly) found in his duster days ago, and his lighter. He pulled out a cigarette from the box and lit it as he continued to enjoy the solitude of the afternoon.