Spike's Packages
A/N This is a WWS story set around the Next Gen series about a few different disguises the Buffy characters use in order to remain undercover.
Rome, the world without shrimp 2022
Spike held his hand up to the door and knocked lightly. His fingers took their time, raising themselves and pressing his knuckles gently against the door. His gaze averted to his feet as the clicking of a door unlocking clacked around him and he glanced upwards at the old lady stood facing him. He pulled down the edge of his baseball cap as she stared up at him rather confused that he'd turned up to deliver an Amazon parcel at 9:30 at night, because Spike was going to be a big pile of dust if he had to deliver things in the morning.
"Can I help you?" The old woman asked demandingly, a little offended that someone was knocking on her door this late. She was a woman of habit, a person that liked her daily routine not to be disturbed. But now there was a man on her doorstep. He looked young but his scars told a different story and if she was being honest with herself he really didn't look like a mailman. He looked like some sort of biker dressed up in a sexy Halloween costume.
Spike looked up, then put his best smile on his fangs and said. "I have a package for you ma'am." He said in English, his broken accent tainted by years in America but he knew she would understand him. She was an old lady who sounded like she was from central Georgia, not the depths of modern Rome.
He held out a little brown box and dipped his cap, the old lady smiled and took the box into her hands. She put it down behind her on the stairs to think about later and invited Spike in for tea and biscuits. "Oh I'm sorry I can't I have a lot of other packages to deliver tonight I'm afraid and If I don't I'll get in trouble with the big parcel company." He replied and pointed up at the sky - metaphorically of course, or at least that's what the old lady thought.
"Well, thank you." The lady said as she closed the door. Spike turned away and walked back down the path outside her house. His mail bag swung down by his hip as he walked back towards his van parked on the edge of the sidewalk. The ignition beat itself loudly as Spike revved up engine and pressed down on the gas peddle hard so he could feel the power running through him. The tarmac tread ground down hard on the road and the van pushed off into the deepness of dark.
He was just doing his job, a job assigned to him by the Powers, it was all an undercover plan. Who knew? Who knew what they were up to?