Disclaimer: Don't own anything except the plot. I think I own that anyway. Ah well. Enjoy, review, let me know if you want more. Otherwise I'll file this away with my other incomplete works. :D








Voices.

Happy voices.

The voices that emanated from the brightly lit house were driving him insane, but no matter how much he wanted to leave, no matter how hard he tried to turn away, his gaze was locked, his ears tuned to the voices.

"Eww! No way are we putting peanut butter in oatmeal cookies!"

"Come on, Buffy, it'll be good!"

"No! That's almost as disgusting as those brownies we tried last night."

"Hey, the mint was a good touch. Admit it."

"It was revolting."

"Yeah…it was wasn't it?"

Laughter.

They were happy.

He had to leave. He couldn't listen to this. He had to go somewhere else, do something to occupy his mind.

Not this. Anything but this torture.




Clem was more than happy to give up his position as crypt watcher, glad to have his poker buddy back. Besides, he said, he was about to go out for some chicken anyway.

Spike watched him go before shutting the heavy door to his crypt. He looked around his dank, sorry excuse for his home.

Clem had left a little clutter; it made the place look lived in, almost comfortable. It was the almost exactly same as he'd left it. The TV, the chair, the refrigerator…it was all so familiar.

With a roar, Spike lifted the easy chair and threw it into the wall, splintering one of the wooden legs. With tears of fury and countless other emotions streaming down his gaunt face he shoved his fist through the screen of the TV, not even noticing when shreds of glass embedded themselves into his skin.

Emotion was a bitch.

He tipped the fridge, the door opening with a clang, spilling blood and juice across the cement floor. He attacked his belongings with such fervor that it took only minutes for the entire top level to be trashed beyond hope.

"Fuck this."




The door slowly creaked open, spilling pale moonlight across the floor.

"Hey, Clem?" Dawn called out. "Buffy wanted to know if you knew anything about--"

She stopped suddenly, looking down as glass crunched under her sneaker. Eyes wide she surveyed the damage. It looked as if a tornado had it Spike's old place.

"Clem?" she called out, staring at the broken TV. Man would Spike be pissed when - or if - he came back.

She growled as she once again found her thoughts straying to Spike. She was mad herself. Mad at him for leaving, for doing what he did to Buffy.

"Clem!" she yelled. "You here?"

A low guttural growl from the dark corner told her that Clem wasn't there. Or if he was, he wasn't in any shape to answer her.

"H-hello?" she called tentatively.

Louder this time, but still a growl.

She ran to one of few windows and yanked aside the heavy browned cloth that covered it, letting moonlight spill into the corner.

"Spike?" she said in astonishment, eyes widening even more.

"Get out," he said savagely.

He was shirtless and barefoot, seated in the corner with his body taught, ready to be on his feet in a second.

More shocking than the sight of him after so many months, more than his now longish brown hair, the pale, bony body, was the look on his face. She had never seen that look before, and couldn't quite place it. She didn't like it, that much she knew.

"Spike?" she managed in barely a whisper.

"Get OUT!" he roared, startling her.

"N-no," she stuttered. "What's wrong with you?"

He sprung to his feet and had her against the wall in a matter of seconds, his hand over her mouth and nose, cutting off her air, the other pinning her with crushing strength.

"Get out, Bit, and don't come back!" he told her in an icy voice. "If you come 'round here again I will kill you."

He let her go then, and she slumped to the floor, coughing, tears streaming down her face.

"Spike?" she cried softly, desperately.

"GO!"

She ran.

She ran like the devil himself were on her heels, to her house, slamming the door behind her with sobs wracking her thin body.

Buffy, in the kitchen with a hot pan of cookies immediately dropped what she was doing, literally, and ran to the front hall. "Dawn?"

She knelt next to her sister, putting her arm around her. "Dawn, what?"

Dawn looked up with wet eyes. "Spike."

Buffy's face hardened. "He's back?"

"He...he told me he was going to kill me if I showed up there again!" she wailed.

Buffy clenched her jaw. She stood and disappeared up the stairs, leaving a crying Dawn.

When she came back a few minutes later, dressed in jeans and a shirt rather than her PJ bottoms Dawn stood up, wiping her eyes on her jacket sleeve. "Buffy? What are you going to do?"

"Something I should have done a long time ago," Buffy said.

As she walked away, Dawn noticed the unmistakable bulge of a stake beneath her jacket.

"Buffy, no!"

But by the time she managed the words, Buffy was gone.