The Storyteller (t_storyteller) wrote in they_are_wicked,
The Storyteller

They meet again.. for the first time.

"You want my sodding help or don't you?" Spike spat forth in frustration, his face a mask of displeasure though his demeanor remained coldly careless. "I mean let's not forget, mate, I'm the one who saved your keester a nice amount of times!" He poked his finger against Angel's chest. The other vampire simply looked upon Spike with near boredom. "Whaddya want, Spike? A cookie?" Angel asked sarcastically. "I don't care how many times you save how many people or who they are. Rules are rules and as long as you want to play part of this team you're gonna have to deal with the fact that I'm running your show," he paused, rasing his eyebrows, "... again."

"Oh bugger that," Spike retaliated, tightening his brows and turning away from Angel after a double take. "You did a right fine job of it last time, too, didn'cha? Split the whole four of us up is what I recall. You and that.. buggered.. soul o' yours. Fogged up the whole game, ya did." He manufactured a sarcastically positive expression on his face and lightened his voice. "I'm bettin' chances you're gonna do it again."

"Ain't that somethin'," Angel's monotone voice asked rhetorically as he tilted his head, smirking with one corner of his mouth. "And now you have a soul, too. Is there anything you won't do to be like me, Spike?"

Spike's lips pursed tightly and he shook his head a few times in quickly growing aggravation from Angel's question. "You.. ohh.." he picked up the small vase from the table and thrust it violently at the wall, hollering above the shattering sound, pointing an accusing finger at his unadmitted companion. "SOD OFF! You're off your sodding rocker, that's what you are. I wouldn't be like you if.. if.." he struggled to locate proper words though none seemed powerful enough in his sudden state of anger, ".. if I was you!" He stopped and stared at Angel in a matter-of-fact manner moments before turning to leave the office with huff in his step. When he reached the door he gripped the handle, turned himself around and hollered back at the watching Angel, "And your hair is bloody stupid!"

Minutes later he found himself outside Wolfram & Hart, strolling aimlessly down the sidewalk of Los Angeles without much to-do or place to go, looking for something he hadn't decided, a cigarette smoldering between his taut lips. Unheard curses played repeatedly through his mind. He turned down an alleyway intent on cutting through to an adjacent avenue though didn't even manage to make it halfway before a sharp pain stabbed briefly into his head and all went black.

"Mm," came a high pitched hum of approval followed by the appearance of a dark haired woman stepping out into the dim light, eyeing the large frying pan in her hand decently. "The song said you'd be difficult, Spike," her melodic voice, softly kissed by an accent, sang as she looked down upon the unconscious vampire with a small smile. "Sorry, lovely. I had to rewrite the lyrics."
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