Who: Spike and OTA. What: Patrolling. When: Late evening. Where: Streets. Rating: TBD.
As much as he hated to admit it, Spike couldn't help but acknowledge the sheer fact that he was more than unhappy with the way his life was going. He found that feeling this way wasn't unusual, as souled vampires tended to feel angsty quite often, but what he felt now was about twenty times worse off than before because of what he had done to Buffy. And for what Dawn was going to have to go through because of the deal she made to get him out of hell. If those two alone weren't enough, the unwavering guilt that he felt for murdering all of those people and torturing that blonde girl should have been. But Spike, as always, had found a way to keep his emotions in check. Making a mockery of those around him, being as sarcastic as possible, and pushing himself away from the Slayer so that he wouldn't harm again. They were all routes that he had taken to make his time back in the mortal realm a little more easier.It was a shame that they really didn't work.
Spike had never thought that he'd feel this horrible again. The only other time he could remember was when he first got his soul back in those caves, and then the painful moment where he had admitted to have retrieved said soul in the chapel in front of Buffy. The unforgettable image of himself taking hold of the cross and begging God for mercy as it charred his skin was something that he couldn't help but think about now. If there was a god, or some higher power that watched over them, then why was Spike still being punished? He had tried to do the right thing. He had died saving the world. Playig the hero. Doing what was good. Wasn't that what he was supposed to do? Didn't he deserve some kind of just reward for his actions?
Spike leaned back against the brick wall behind him, his blue eyes staring out into the empty darkness of the alley that expanded ahead of him. He didn't know what he deserved. But if Angel had been granted a life of mortality, something that he had to earn after he redeemed himself, then why couldn't Spike? Hadn't he done enough as it were? Cigarette between his lips, Spike turned his attention toward the faint light that trickled into the alley from the street to his right. The sound of voices met his ears, but they didn't seem hostile. So, gaze ticking away from that direction, Spike chose to ignore them. He'd been outside waiting for trouble for a good while. Three vampires and a rogue demon had all been taken care of, but that had been it for a night. For someone like Spike, taking out a total of four monsters didn't qualify as much of an accomplishment. Not when he knew that he could manage so much more. Besides, he always enjoyed the thrill of a good fight. And tonight? He'd found less than one. It seemed like the vampires weren't even trying anymore. Personally, Spike found that that only added to his depression. What a waste of a night.