Who: Angel & Beth. What: Moping about how much his life sucks. And maybe trying to locate Spike. When: Week Seven. I don't really care what day or time, so if you have a preference, let me know. Where: Inside Angel's office at first, then outside of it. Status: Active.
Angel tilted his chair back and looked up at the ceiling with a sigh. He'd just spent the last few hours calling various contacts to see if anyone had caught a glimpse of Spike in the past week -- to no avail whatsoever, of course. Usually Angel had no problem finding the members of his bloodline when he put his mind to it, especially Spike, since he always made himself so damn obvious. But apparently Spike really didn't want to be found this time. Wherever he had run off to, he'd taken great care to hide it from Angel.
After taking a moment to press his fingers to his temples, he dragged himself out of the chair and headed for the office's door. If he didn't get away from this task for a while, he was liable to have an aneurysm any minute now. He locked the door behind him, then glanced around what had served as the lobby when the building belonged to Wolfram & Hart. Now it was just another room on another floor, which was fine by him because it meant fewer people had a reason to loiter around. By this week, he imagined word had spread of Spike's disappearance throughout the Pod, at least to anyone who cared. He hadn't encountered many people discussing the topic, but the few he did overhear had some interesting theories as to why the vampire had left, ranging from 'he ran off with a mysterious Slayer that none of us have ever met' to 'he decided to open an all-male strip club in Vegas.' Although really neither of those would've been particularly surprising had they been true. But he knew they weren't, because Spike had left with Riley and Angel had already checked Vegas. Maybe Atlantic City? Spike was just trashy enough that he'd probably like it there.