Who: Spike and OPEN. Multiple charries welcome. What: Some vampire hunter gets the best of poor Spike. When: Evening. Where: Random street corner. Because Spike was working there. Rating: PG-13. May change. Status: In progress.
As soon as the sun had vanished from the horizon, Spike had taken his leave from the Hyperion. First it was just for casual stuff. Blood shopping, a quick drink, and finally him putting in a bet or two at that same underground fight club that he and Wolverine had ripped off a few weeks prior. Afterward, Spike decided that it was high time he made with the heroics and started on his nightly patrol. He left the club with a few extra bills stuffed into his pockets, then took to the streets as he began to sniff out the air for blood or the scent of another vampire. It didn't take him very long to find something. However, that something didn't belong to a creature of the night, nor was it the blood of an injured party. It belonged to a human. Smelled like beer, cologne, and wood shavings.
As soon as he heard the sound of footsteps from somewhere behind him, Spike shrugged and continued on. It was a free city. People could walk wherever they wanted to. It wasn't difficult to determine when he was being followed though. A few blocks and attempted shortcuts later and Spike finally found himself stumbling upon that simple conclusion.
He suddenly halted in place and sighed. "Any particular reason as to why you're following me?"
Turning, Spike looked back to take in a tall man that obviously thought he was a cowboy. Brown hair, curled moustache, cowboy hat, and snakeskin boots to match. The man held out an arm and raised a finger. "Only one," he replied, his accent sounding odd in comparison to Spike's British speech.
The next thing he knew, the man had thrown a good portion of holy water into his face. Growling in frustration, Spike stumbled back and bit back the pain as his skin began to burn. The cowboy obviously knew about what he was doing. Because the next thing Spike knew? He was on the ground with a stake pressed to his heart.
"Think you can walk round here and kill whoever you damn well please, do ya?" The cowboy hissed. "Not on my clock, fang!"
Spike couldn't help it. He started to laugh. "I'm not one of them, you moron."
"Funny story," the cowboy continued. "Cause I've been following you for a while, Bleached Wonder. And I've been noticing that you've got this thing about your face? Kind of changes."
"Oh! That!" Spike really didn't like this guy. "It's called me expressing my emotions! See!" He flashed a big smile off at him. "That's happy. Wanna see angry?" He raised a brow. "Or were you just looking for a bit of horny? Because this? With you on top of me? Not gonna get that particular emotion, sorry. It's a crying shame, I know it is. But the thing of it is? You're not my type."
The cowboy pressed the stake into his chest. The wood cut through a little, but it wasn't anywhere near his heart yet.
"I've seen the fangs on you, boy! And I'm gonna get rid of em for good!" That said, the man raised his stake upward and made an attempt at Spike's heart.