She shot him. In the heart. Spike winced and growled and doubled over momentarily, yelling, then straightened up and started chuckling. And humming, quietly. Shot through the heart, and you're too late....
"Always wanted a reason to sing that song," Spike said. "Ta very much, love."
She'd moved, but Spike moved, too, chest sore from the shot and rage building under his skin. He kept humming, because it was funny.
And this time when he lunged, he grabbed for the girl. And he opened his mouth to strike. Time to see what she was made of.