WHO Buffy & Spike. WHAT: He has his brain back. WHEN: Evening, of course! WHERE: The Hyperion. RATING: TBD.
Spike had been miserable. Waking up with a bundle of stray puppies cradled in his arms had been far from a pleasant experience. Puppies. The memory of the night before, in which Spike had spent his time chasing stray animals across the city for their own protection, was fuzzy but quite memorable. The need to protect them still rang clear as a bell, while the feeling of pure disgust that Spike was far more accustomed to attempted to drown that silly need out. Kind of like strangling and drowning puppies in a river. He had been nearly tempted to do just that, but instead chose to ditch the box and vanish before the sun ate him alive. Later, it was discovered that he was not the only person out there who had been returning to their normal state of mind. Swearing vengeance upon all of the Powers - in the most vile, foul language inducing way he could muster - Spike decided, or was rather invited, to pay Buffy a visit. And how could he resist after having been off playing goody two shoes for so long?
He only visited the Hyperion when he was bored enough to harass the people or there, when he was needed, or when Buffy asked him to. Now was no different. Invited and all, Spike swept his way through the lobby, shooting anyone who dared pay him any mind a glare as he passed. Spike wasn't in the mood to be mocked for the stupid heroics. He'd go out and mug old people and set buildings on fire and kidnap people if he had to set the record straight all over again. Spike was not a pansy hero like Angel. He was Spike.
Tugging at the collar of his jacket, Spike reached Buffy's room and gave the door a sharp knock. She knew that he was coming, so he figured she'd be hanging about in here waiting for him to come along.