WHO: Spike and OPEN. WHAT: One person who should never be bored. WHEN: Evening. WHERE: Outside of a video game arcade. RATING: TBD. STATUS: In progress.
In what little time that Spike had spent cooped up in this city, he had reached one very, very firm conclusion: despite all the people that were being zapped in and out of the place, it was incredibly dull for a creature who was used to spending his time averting apocalypses and making fun of the heroes behind their backs whilst attempting to do so. Taunting heroes. An amusing thing, surely, considering that Spike was sort of one of them. He didn't slaughter innocents - no that was yesterdays news - and he fought the evil. Sure, he was a big old prick about it half the time, but he got the job done, didn't he? Didn't dance around, acting all noble and boring about things. He'd leave business like that to Angel; Spike was better off doing the right thing and scramming off afterward.
Unless there were rewards for his good deeds. In that event, he'd be very keen on sticking around. And in his opinion? There was always supposed to be a reward lying around for the hero. Anti-hero. Whatever.
The anti-hero, at the moment, was lurking alongside a series of buildings caught in the middle of a rather dramatic debate based on whether or not tracking Buffy down would be a good plan. The plan in itself never used to be an issue. If Spike wanted to see her, he'd go see her - wanted around or not. But lately, it seemed, he was having issues. They'd started up back in L.A., when he decided that Buffy knowing that he was still alive was a bad plan. Now they had amped themselves up incredibly since his arrival here. She knew he was alive. Did she think him a pansy? Did that glorious exit he had made back in Sunnydale lose it's gleam in her eyes? Was she done with him altogether?
Boots scuffing against the sidewalk, Spike groaned in frustration and moodily pushed his hands through his bleached hair. The door of the building beside him swung open - a video game arcade - and a rather large, pumpkin shaped boy came trotting out with a pink blanket bundled in his arms. Being caught in the extreme wave of annoyance between his indecisiveness and the sheer knowledge that if he didn't go and see Buffy he wouldn't have a damned thing to do with himself anyway didn't stop Spike from taking in the boys appearance. A scarred brow rose upward and he immediately tilted his head to the side, examining the boy curiously.
"I don't even know where to start with you, Fluffy."