Disclaimer: See chapter one

A/N: Okay, chapter 2 is finally up. Sorry about the wait, I've really busy with moving and getting ready for school again. But! I'm sticking with it, don't worry, I wasn't lying back in the first one of these. Now, I do want to warn you about two things. One: At the end of this chapter, the voices (and I'm not saying anything more in fear of ruining it all) might become confusing. Sorry. I've tried my best for it to make sense to someone other than me, but if you're having trouble following it, please tell me. Two: This chapter takes on a completely different point of view. Although not written exactly in the first person, the narration reflects more of Spike's personality – a lot more. It kind of weaves in and out of his thoughts and a severely influenced narrative. Sorry. Try to ignore the huge personality jump from chapter to chapter for now, and then criticize me in a review afterwards. And no, this isn't a clever ploy to get all of you to review. Oh, and sorry for the ridiculous water/dam metaphor. It sounded cool before I typed it out…

Italics for thoughts

Bold Italics for 'voices'


Darkness.

All he saw was darkness. At first he thought he had just dozed off, woken up and forgot to open his eyes, but he checked. They were open.

Okay, don't panic just yet, Spike ol' boy

And just when did he take mid-night naps? Wasn't he somewhere, doing something? His head was all foggy. He took stock of himself. His body seemed to be in working order, even though there was a dull ache near his heart. No cuts, no broken bones. He wiggled his toes. His head seemed to be still wired all right, despite it felt as if he had nothing but cotton baton between his ears. Then why couldn't he see?

Scratch that

He could see, he realised, he just saw nothing. Total darkness. It was a thick, inky blackness enveloping him like molasses. He stood there blinking, trying to allow his eyes to adjust to such darkness. It was as if he was in a large, ebony room with just enough light for his eyes to want to make the assumption of the room having boundaries. Like when you turn the lights off in your room and your blinds are pulled. You can barely see anything, but your mind still insists that there are walls enclosing your room. He found his way to his feet, pushing off of the ground with his hands, and found that the floor was solid. With his eyesight pretty much out of commission, he honed the rest of his senses. But nothing could be found. Or heard. Or smelled. The space that he was in had absolutely no sound and no residual smells. It like he was the only one there, wherever he was, and no one had been there before him.

Bollocks. Where the fuck am I?

"Hello? Is there anyone here?" He decided to chance. Perhaps enraging a possible hell-beastie wasn't the best of ideas, but at least it would serve as some entertainment, or more importantly, provide him with some answers. He didn't, however, receive a response. Not even an echo. "Right. Just me then."

Good thing I'm not claustrophobic

Spike took a deep breath to calm himself down. He, of course, would get to the bottom of this. He'd been in worse, hell, much worse situations than this. Maybe he could even catch up on his beauty sleep. On this most positive outlook, he took several steps in the direction of what he thought looked like a wall. Even when straining his vampire eyesight, the wall's details continued to elude him. He wasn't quite sure if it was even there in the first place, but he would bloody well try to reach it. It seemed to move further and further from his outstretched limbs for every step he took closer. Once again, with his arms stretched in front of him, he bounded towards the wall, but it continued to deceive him. This place was obviously huge, as when Spike turned around, he found that the 'wall' behind him looked about the same distance away from him as it did before he began his search. Something wasn't right. He snorted and scoured the darkness for answers to his unspoken questions

Maybe there are no walls, and I'm just stuck here in an endless abyss. Just bloody great. One minute I'm patrolling with the Slayer, minding my own bleedin' business, and then the next thing I know I'm imprisoned here. Wait…Buffy. I was with her then, so where is she now?

His thoughts of his past actions in the cemetery consumed him for the time being. He could remember being in one of the cemeteries, with Buffy, but everything was hazy beyond that, like the blurry recollections of dreams long past and forgotten. A sudden sound jarred against his sensitive ears in the silence. It was faint, but it was enough of a noise against the quiet around him to interrupt his musings. When he strained his ears he could scarcely hear the rustling of clothes and the whirl of a slight breeze. He didn't feel wind, and he certainly was not moving. He concentrated again, and now he could pick up several scents.

It smelled of grass.

Of his cemetery.

Of her.

"Buffy?"

"Spike? Spike, talk to me." Spike span on his heels and completed a full 360 degree turn, but saw nothing save for the inky blackness around him.

"Luv, where are you? I can't seem to see you,"or anything else, for that matter.Silence wasn't the response he was hoping for, but Spike's wished were rarely granted these days.

While waiting for another word from the Slayer, a slightly glowing orb appeared in front of him.

"Slayer?" He eyed the orb with suspicion and caution.

The orb crackled, seemingly with a life-force of its own. First beginning as but a small pin-prick against the blackness, it began to grow. As it seeped outwards, it acquired the same consistency as fog. Barely breaking the darkness around him, the fog grew to encompass his whole field of view. Spike turned around and found that behind him was still dark, empty of any mysterious fog, or anything else. When he turned around, the fog had begun to brighten. It snapped alive and gained an electrifyingly blue sheen. With another glance behind his shoulder, Spike found the light did nothing to illuminate even the immediate area behind him, effectively keeping him in the dark, quite literally, about his surrounding. He took a step backwards and once again focused on the fog, completely mystified. Spike could do nothing but stare at the fog. Much to his surprise, the blue began to diminish and was replaced with a swirl of colours. The colours soon began to settle and take form.

A human shape evolved.

It was a girl.

With blonde hair.

It was Buffy, and it seemed as though she was leaning over and looking directly into Spike's eyes, piercing through the fog.

"Buffy! Where are y…" Spike stopped and cocked his head to the side.

A low growl could be heard. He straightened out and stood still, muscles tense and ready to pounce. For the second time, he swivelled on the spot, trying to penetrate the blackness to find the culprit; however, there was nothing. Even the impression of another being nearby couldn't be sensed. There was just the blackness that Spike had slowly become accustomed to. When Spike focused again on the growl, it was as though it wasn't in the same place as he. It was detached, and seemed to come from elsewhere, just beyond his reach. It was coming from the fog, Spike decided.

Spike checked the fog again. Buffy was still there. She was moving now. Her arm passed in front of the view that the fog provided, and then further beyond it. The growl accompanied the movement with added hostility.

"Spike? Just calm down. Okay? You're all right. I just need to get you to the Magic Box."

"Calm down? What are you on about, luv? I am as calm as I'm ever going to be. What's going on?" Spike shook his head. "What happened and what am I doing here? Slayer? Can you even...? Great, she can't even bleedin' hear me. Buffy!" Spike tried shouting, but it didn't seem to get though to her, and it didn't affect the snarling either. It had grown to a constant roar. Spike deduced that perhaps Buffy couldn't see him either. Her eyes seemed to be looking through him, rather than at him.

The picture in the fog changed. It had moved position from underneath Buffy to farther away. Whatever it was that allowed Spike to see the images, it was seeking distance from Buffy. The point of view seemed to be from a crouch. For a while neither Buffy nor the 'picture' moved. It was as if the two were at a stalemate. With a frown, Spike watched the fog as Buffy jumped at the picture. She seemed to have grabbed the thing and was holding it in a rather uncomfortable bear hug. Hissing and snapping could be heard while the picture moved down to reveal her arms encircling the body of her catch.

"Hey, is that my duster?"

And then the world he knew turned black.


"Ugh."

Remind me not do whatever I did last night ever again

Spike once again found himself lying on the ground in his dark prison. This time, however, he had a splitting headache.

"This night keeps getting better and better," He ground out as he scrunched up his eyes and cradled his head

Sliding one eyelid open slowly, Spike surveyed the scene from the floor up and found the fog to be missing. He moved himself up onto his feet, cautiously, and looked around himself for a second time. The fog completely disappeared, leaving Spike alone and bewildered in the dark again. Eyes gliding over the darkness one final time, Spike plopped back down on the ground.

How'd you get into this mess, mate?Spike scoured his mind for a plan of attack, searching for anything to keep his mind off of the fact that for the moment he had no escape plan and no idea where to even begin. He definitely did not hold all of the cards.

Well, it's not like you had them all in the beginning

"Come again?" Spike sat obediently, waiting for a response before he realised that up until a few moment ago, he had been alone. Sitting up straight, he searched the darkness, and discovered that he was indeed still alone.

You shouldn't listen to him. He just likes to shit on everyone's parade another voice broke the silence, different from the first one, and it was soon echoed by several others who appeared to agree.

I do not!

Eyes wide in alarm, Spike stood up, "Who are you? Come out where I can see you."

You can't possibly see us, you twit

I'm Teshia from accounting…

I was an orphan when she found me…

my mother used to call me La-bee…

Why don't you start by telling us who you are, Vampyr?

The voices all began to speak at once. Once just a trickle of water leaking from a small crack in the dam, the flow of voices had become the thunder of thousands of gallons of water rushing past and destroying the wall. It was all too much, too quickly. Spike sunk to his knees, grasping his ears with his hands in attempts to shut them out. But they kept coming. Several voices would sweep by one ear and whisper incomprehensible hate-filled words to him, while several more would attack the other ear.

sorry excuse for a vampire…

Why didn't you save me while you could? You had…

he didn't trust me just like I didn't trust him…

Bastard! I want you out of my life. Don't touch me…

The roar of voices consumed him, becoming an oppressive force, pushing him closer to the floor. Spike, with his eyes desperately clenched shut and his mouth agape mouthing ghosts of words, could do nothing to rid himself from his hell. The voices continued to pound relentlessly in and around him. They got through his hands and into his head. They get under his skin, not allowing him a moment's peace. He was drowning in a crushing sea of voices, and he could do nothing to help himself.

Thousands upon thousands of whispers fluttered past him, leaving breathy gusts of air to tickling the hairs on the back of his neck. There were so many of them, and all of them shouting at him, vying for his sole attention. Spike envisioned being encircled by a mob; much like the one back in Prague, chanting obscurities at him, so close to him that he could feel their hot breath. He couldn't think. He felt ill.

Too stifling. Too claustrophobic.

D-don't worry, Spike. One voice seemed to rise above the rest seeping with an unseen power, Glory's not here to bother you or Buffy right now.

That's right, her precious Ben made sure of that – scooped 'er up and hid 'er away

tucked her in for the night…

Spike, continued the commanding voice from before, Spike, I'm sorry. I…we have to go. Remember, she can't hurt any of us for the moment.

And all in that moment, the voices snapped shut. The silence burned and rung in Spike's ears. The sudden void having followed the intense waterfall of voices left Spike severely disoriented and nauseated. His head was spinning and his stomach was doing flips and somersaults. What had just happened?

With his eyes still firmly shut, Spike was unaware that the fog was making a second appearance. It grew again to encompass most of the abyss, showing the forms of both Buffy and Giles. Meanwhile, his tired brain was running in circles trying to decode the words spoken to him.

"She's not with us now," He began to repeat; vainly trying to sort out what was said.

"What, Spike? Who's She?" Buffy's voice pierced the silence, however it fell on deaf ears. Spike was completely and wholly concerned with what had just happened and was oblivious to everything else.

"She's tucked in for the night…Ben made sure of that." Spike mumbled to himself, as if hearing it for the second time, the words would reveal their hidden meaning. "No, you don't understand," Spike berated himself in passing. He was so concentrated fully on the message he was left with that he idea that he was actually communicating with Buffy had not entered his thoughts. "She won't be bothering us tonight."

Brow furrowed, Spike leaned forward. Having spent all of his energy, he keeled over and fell into a welcoming darkness.