Current mood:	quixotic
Current music:	"If You're Not For Me" -- Daniel Bedingfield

Night out with Spike . . . uh oh.
So after days of searching through the Boston streets for clues, evidence, anything that could lead us to some answers in the slaying of that Slayer, (and treading lightly after that phone call) we finally got a tip-off: The culprit was a squicky demon by the name of Tlaloc. This evidence was stuff the four of us (Buffy, Willow, Spike, and me) all uncovered mostly on our own; Simon was virtually no help at all. He was mostly paralyzed by fear and paranoia. I didn't tell him about the mystery phone call; that was the last thing we needed, was for him to get even more paranoid.

Anyway, we found Tlaloc, and Buffy did what Buffy does. Case closed . . . right?

The strangest thing happened today. Buffy and Willow just up and left, took a flight back to Cleveland. Maybe they were homesick, but I don't think so. Not from the way Spike's been acting. He's been sulking around the room like a little lost puppy, taking little forlorn sips from his ever present flask -- Owww! Spike! Okay, okay! Fine, I'll change it. He's been perfectly normal. Absolutely no sulking. It's like he's completely unaffected by her leaving. Is that better?

Ooookay. Spike just told me to change clothes, because we're going out. Apparently, he wants to take me for drinks. Why do I feel like this is not such a good idea? . . .