Contrary to what Andrea may have believed, Spike wasn't doing anything harmful. There weren't any bodies lying in the streets mangled and bloody and there certainly weren't people begging for mercy at his feet. In fact, Spike was being so harmless that he wasn't even around anyone at all. That was a pointed moved on his part, seeing as he didn't need anyone around to witness what he was attempting to do. Spike wasn't hurting anyone. Physically. He was, however, about to put quite the amount of damage in someone's bank account. Businesses relied on every single penny that they could rake in. It was what got the bills paid, it was what allowed them to draw in more merchandise, it was what put the clothes on the backs of those who worked in said businesses to begin with. Spike didn't really care about that though. If they had a job, they had more money than he did. And if he was going to spend his time stopping demons and even picking along with this preventing the Apocalypse business, Spike didn't see what the big deal was about him snagging a few things here and there for his own well-being. It wasn't like he was getting a steady pay check and there was no way that Spike could possibly hold his own in a stable job anyway. He was a vampire - a grumpy vampire, who would be more like to offend anyone who dared attempt being his customer or boss should he actually be in a position of employment. Quite frankly, the world was much better off with him stealing from it than actually having to be forced to deal with him personally. People should have been lining up to pay Spike simply because he wasn't bothering with them. Yeah, if things worked that way? He'd be one rich mother fucker. But, seeing as the world didn't ever really work the way that he wanted for it to, Spike was instead stuck with the unfortunate task of breaking, entering, and taking whatever the fuck he wanted.
It was getting closer and closer to sunrise, but Spike felt confident that he could manage finishing off his plans before returning to his apartment for the day. This was hardly the first time that Spike had broken into a place before. Judging from the rusty lock that was keeping the door of the pawn shop sealed away from intruders, Spike knew that getting in and out would be easy. The shop didn't open for a few more hours, the streets were dead and quiet, and he was tucked away along the side of the building - there was an alley entrance for delivery, he supposed - and in the dark where most (at least those on foot) would be unable to spot him. Spike casually walked to the side entrance, grabbed onto the doorknob, and tugged it hard enough so that the lock splintered against the doorframe and fell to the ground with a light clatter. Spike stepped over the broken lock and pushed the door open, moving into the shop with ease. He immediately moved into the rows of shelves, grabbing onto a duffel bag that was on sale for ten dollars (really? That much for a used duffel bag?) and directed himself toward the glass cases near the front entrance. He wasn't going to waste his time with toys, blenders, and worn books. No, the good stuff was up front. Jewelry, weapons, electronics - that's the sort of stuff that Spike could sell overpriced (yeah, he bitched about duffel bag prices, but that wasn't going to stop him from overpricing things) to the morons that he ran into on a regular basis. Teenagers trying to act all cool and tough looking for a knife to show off with, drunks looking to buy the newest game systems for their kids so that their wives wouldn't bitch. The usual suspects. Spike would rip them off and pocket the dough for himself easy. And, in the process, if there was something useful that he found while scavenging, he'd bring it back to his flat and claim that he obtained those items in an honest, respectable way if anyone asked where he got them. Spike might have had his soul, but that didn't mean he had to turn into Angel 2.0. He didn't give a damn about robbing people blind if it helped him survive. Survival of the fittest and all that? Yeah, Spike proudly lived by that rule and would until he was dead and dusted. You know. Again.