(no subject)
"Right," Spike scoffed to himself, driving one-handed as he got off the freeway. "Like I'm going to stay behind while he carts his arse to Cleveland effin' Oh-Hell-Oh, to make kissy-faces at my - er - THE Slayer. Screw that."
She never loved you, a cruel voice whispered in his head. Already driving much faster than he should, Spike tromped his foot down on the gas of the Angel-filched vehicle, as if he could escape his own thoughts.
"What she ever saw in the Big Broody One, I'll never know," he muttered as he drove down the street. He drove in silence for a few minutes, only slowing down when it occured to him he had no idea where he was, let alone where he should head to.
He took a few random turns, main streets turning into side streets. By the time he reached a quiet cemetary, he was out of smokes and feeling rather morose.
Spike slammed on the brakes, and got out of the car. If this city really was a Hellmouth, the cemetaries ought to be crawlin' with nightlife -- of the Undead variety. Could be he'd luck out on some information, or chance across one of the old Scoobies themselves. At the very least, he ought to be able to rip apart a few nasties and find a place to hole up until tomorrow.
He grinned as he crossed paths with a couple fledges. The night was looking up.
((open for anyone))
She never loved you, a cruel voice whispered in his head. Already driving much faster than he should, Spike tromped his foot down on the gas of the Angel-filched vehicle, as if he could escape his own thoughts.
"What she ever saw in the Big Broody One, I'll never know," he muttered as he drove down the street. He drove in silence for a few minutes, only slowing down when it occured to him he had no idea where he was, let alone where he should head to.
He took a few random turns, main streets turning into side streets. By the time he reached a quiet cemetary, he was out of smokes and feeling rather morose.
Spike slammed on the brakes, and got out of the car. If this city really was a Hellmouth, the cemetaries ought to be crawlin' with nightlife -- of the Undead variety. Could be he'd luck out on some information, or chance across one of the old Scoobies themselves. At the very least, he ought to be able to rip apart a few nasties and find a place to hole up until tomorrow.
He grinned as he crossed paths with a couple fledges. The night was looking up.
((open for anyone))

