[It's not because it's Vicious that Spike sneaks his way over to the grave keeper from behind; no, at first he can barely tell it's the same man. He's on his way over because this fucker has otherwise been making it impossible to get out of these graves like he's playing whack-a-mole.
Big guy though he is, no one's impervious to a clock to the head, and the grave keeper's shovel is propped up against the nearest tree. Good think the grave keeper is preoccupied; it gives Spike time to get to that tree on quiet (but pained, irregular) footsteps. Shovel retrieved, he raises it over his head just as the grave keeper raises his pitchfork, but before the grave keeper can impale Vicious, Spike slams the backside of the shovel down against the guy's head.
Now, any smart man would use the time the grave keeper is groaning and bending over and grabbing his head to run away or literally do anything else useful, but instead, Spike is left to lock his dark eyes with Vicious's big blue ones.
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Big guy though he is, no one's impervious to a clock to the head, and the grave keeper's shovel is propped up against the nearest tree. Good think the grave keeper is preoccupied; it gives Spike time to get to that tree on quiet (but pained, irregular) footsteps. Shovel retrieved, he raises it over his head just as the grave keeper raises his pitchfork, but before the grave keeper can impale Vicious, Spike slams the backside of the shovel down against the guy's head.
Now, any smart man would use the time the grave keeper is groaning and bending over and grabbing his head to run away or literally do anything else useful, but instead, Spike is left to lock his dark eyes with Vicious's big blue ones.
His brows raise, then furrow in confusion.]
You.
[half a beat.]
The fuck?