Legal: I Own nothing but these words I write.
The cigarette buds lay on the grass as Spike watched the blonde man stare at his window. Buffy hadn’t left her room all night, too busy crying over the stupid poof who went by the name of Angel.
He was human, though Spike wasn’t too sure. The blond hair flowed like some male porn star screaming “bite me; I’m sexy.” His blue eyes, white skin made Spike think German. The eyes were what made Spike have second thoughts about humanizing this man. He’d killed before, but who was he to judge? Thing is, the man probably enjoyed it, and that was what scared Spike.
Now, don’t miss understand him, he isn’t too squeamish himself, when it came to the slicing and dicing, maiming and torturing. Back in the day, he struck fear in the hearts of those who dared defy the Scourage of Europe. It was just that, the way the mans eyes stared at Buffy, like she was something new and exciting, it was the same way many old Vampires looked at her. She was fresh; a new meal, something exciting, a way to get you’re adrenaline pumping again.
The lights were off, The Slayer was headed to bed. Spike turned, but froze the moment ice-cold eyes landed on him. They screamed at him, “mine” and it sent chills down his spine.
Another man, in a black suit ran up to the blonde porn star wanna-be. Glasses hid his face.
“Bro,” the man was speaking in Japanese, Spike cursed realizing who these men were. He’d vowed long ago, to stay away from the people they worked for.
“We’ve got to go.” Bro put the cigarette bud in the grass, gave Buffy’s window one last look, before he aimed at the Vampire who stood frozen in his tracks.
Spike was nothing but dust and a black porsh zoomed into the background.