It is a truth universally acknowledged that if there was a wrong place at a wrong time, that is where Spike was likely to be found. He went out looking for trouble on a fairly regular basis, but it seemed he had a knack for finding trouble even when he wasn’t actively seeking it.
Tonight was an excellent example of Spike’s proclivity for walking into a bad situation with no warning.
It had actually been a pretty fantastic day. They’d been trying for weeks to find a way to get rid of a nest of demons that had been causing a ridiculous amount of problems. These demons didn’t seem to care the slightest about certain agreements and treaties that had been painstakingly hammered out by Gunn’s legal team at Wolfram & Hart; so on top of the mayhem they were getting up to around the city, they were at the same time stirring up serious tension between Angel and some of his clients. Last night, though, a breakthrough was made. Angel, Gunn, Spike and Wesley went out armed to the teeth and came home bloody, covered in slime almost as bad as a Chaos demon’s, and exhausted, but victorious. The entire nest had been taken out with no injuries more serious than cuts and bruises to their team. When the group was finished, all any of them could manage to do was shower and sleep. But waking up refreshed and rather proud of themselves, they decided a celebration was in order. Even Angel didn’t oppose relaxing and having a bit of fun for one night. Fred never had to be asked twice to indulge in a few drinks, and Lorne joined them to celebrate their latest conquest.
Spike, feeling generous, volunteered to make a run to the liquor store. He had quite the shopping list, as Lorne was eager to try out some new cocktails he’d been thinking about putting on the menu at Caritas. Angel wasn’t going to drink anything he didn’t already have in his liquor cabinet (poncy expensive Irish whiskey), but Fred wanted whipped cream-flavored vodka and Wesley had given in to Spike’s suggestion that he branch out and try some tequila for a change. Even if Wesley + tequila turned out to be a disaster, the blackmail opportunities would be plentiful, so it’d probably be worth it. It’s not like Wes wouldn’t have Spike right there to nurse him through a hangover…
So that’s what was going on, really, when the shit hit the fan. Spike had walked the few blocks to the store and was daydreaming about getting a drunk and pliant Wesley into the shower as he browsed the aisles when he heard a woman at the front of the store scream. Not even another second passed before a man’s voice rang out from near the checkout counter. The guy was robbing the place. At least two dozen customers inside on a busy Saturday night and this idiot decides to try subtly demanding money from the two cashiers. Of course, the woman was standing closeby, caught a look at the pistol Mr. Genius was holding, and screamed her head off. With subtlety off the table as a robbery option, the asshole apparently figured Plan B was to discharge his firearm into the ceiling and start yelling at everyone in the store not to move, he had a gun (apparently for the benefit of any particularly unaware customers who may have not already heard the shot) and would happily use it to quell any action that prevented him from obtaining the cash that he’d come for.
This, clearly, was a difficult situation for Spike. Had the place been empty and not equipped with four security cameras, he could easily have disarmed the moron by appearing instantly at his side, getting him onto the ground and taking away his weapon before anyone had time to blink. However, since that was not the case, it was impossible for him to do any of that without giving away that he was not just an everyday better than average looking customer in a kickass duster. His preternatural speed and senses did allow him to send a text to Wesley saying idiot with a gun here call cops without taking his phone out of his pocket.
A call for help, how ridiculously lame, and help from the damn police, it was all he could do without revealing his non-human nature. Frustrating, that’s what it was, and embarrassing. Spike, who’d easily dispatched several demons with his bare hands not twenty-four hours earlier, even had to comply with the stupid fuck’s demand to be still and quiet because it wouldn’t do for him to get shot and have a whole crowd of people see him uninjured.
Fuck all. Luckily it didn’t take long for the cops to show, but of course they shut the place down so now Spike couldn’t even buy any damn booze. The minute he got outside, he called to let everyone (Wesley) know he was fine, but that he was coming back and someone else was going to have to go out shopping. He wasn’t in the mood to try again, but now he really needed a drink or twelve.