"The toys that lack in creativity, you mean," Spike retaliated, rolling his eyes. Railroad spikes, piano strings, electric saws. Those were fun. Angelus was more of the old fashioned type, the way Spike saw it. Artistry, he claimed. Old, old art. Worse than the Mona Lisa herself. New age, as Spike had long since decided, was the more entertaining way to go.
Not that he did any of that anymore. To humans.
Spike looked out at the Vampire slash Slayer in disbelief. She was leaning back against the wall like some sort of moron, arms all out and everything. He pulled out the spare stake that he carried on his person and flipped it over in a hand.
"Big, big mistake, sweetheart," he declared, reaching out with a balled up fist to swipe for her face. At the same time, with his other arm, he thrust up with the stake and attempted to shove it straight through the place that used to hold her heart.