All About Spike - Plain Version
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“How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable...”
“Angel? Angel, put it down.”
He fingered the stake in his hands. “Why?”
“Why bother? Why even try? The world isn’t getting any better. Hell, we aren’t. To be honest, I just don’t care anymore.”
“Come on, mate. Gonna let go the ol’ shanshu that easy?”
“You can have it. Load of crap anyway.”
They all stood around his chair, looking for an opportunity to stop him, grab the stake and wrestle him into submission. Or at least to make him consider his actions. But he was a vampire, and as fast as any of them, even Spike, could move, Angel would be faster. So they tried to talk him out of it.
“Boss, you’re being a silly willy. Now put down that nasty pointy thing and come with us for a drink.”
“Shut up, Harmony. You’re fired.” There was no anger in his tone. Only resignation.
“Angel,” Wes tried to stand very still, “What happened? Why are you so despondent?”
He pursed his lips. “I don’t know. I woke up this morning, looked around my apartment, and thought, ‘Nothing matters’. Got dressed, not caring. Came to work, not caring. Found the stake. Seemed like a plan.”
“No, please.” Tears ran down Fred’s face.
“Sweetcakes, get a grip. We all feel sort of down sometimes, but we get back up again. You’ll be on top again tomorrow.”
“Right. Tomorrow.” He struck before they could dive for him, pushing the wood through his chest. And he was gone.
Just some dust in a chair, and a chorus of people who loved him asking “why?”
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