(A/N: I'm not too sure if this is a first person or a third person. I couldn't decide while writing it, so I made my own. It's a sort of twisted third peron first person hybrid. I like to call it thirst person. I do not own any of the characters in this. Oh, by the way, I know I've never really done it before, but this is a one-shot. I hope it's to your liking, I can't wait to see the reviews!)

Sometimes, he just stepped back and watched. Sometimes, he left, just to stand at the window and watch them and see how long it took them to realize that he was gone. He once stopped talking for a week to see if they noticed the difference. They didn't.

He doesn't know why he stuck around Sunnydale, stuck around with people who obviously don't care whether he stayed or left.

((Where else you gonna go, mate?))

Sometimes, he has to talk to himself, just so someone would. Sometimes, he wished he didn't because he just offered up truths that he'd rather not hear.

((You're stuck, mate, no matter what.))

He found himself wondering one day what the sunlight would feel like on his skin after all these years. Then he came around and bolted his door shut, then proceeded down to the lower level and welded the door to the sewer shut. He went through his entire supply of alcohol to drown out the thought that the only reason he was doing it was because of his promise to protect Dawn. Replaced it with illusions of self preservation.

((You can run, but you can't hide, mate. Not from the truth. It'll just depress you to try.))

Yes. He knew. Sometimes, he wished he didn't. He wished people would stop pointing it out to him. He wished he could walk through the cemetery without being jumped by demons.

((Or by humans.))

Or by the enemy.

((But which side is the enemy, huh? The question is: Which side wants you dead more?))

The poof was in town, so the Slayer didn't need him to go patrolling with her. Not that she had ever said that she needed him with her to begin with; she had just assumed that he'd love to go along. Like a puppy. Follow behind her like her shadow, but God forbid he jump in to help in a fight. No, she'd rather him just stand back and bark at the nasties. Like a puppy.

((Like a puppy.))

But he'd pretend that it didn't bother him. Swagger in, plop down in a chair. Pretend that he doesn't know that Angel could shatter his sense of security just by suggesting that he shouldn't be here.

((Because being part of a group always made you safe, right? Even when you were with Angelus and Darla and Dru. Even though they tortured you almost daily and once locked you out of the house, forcing you to hide under the porch to protect yourself against the sun. Even through all they put you through, they still rescued you when you were captured by a group of Watchers, didn't they? That's why they made you feel safe, isn't it?))

Is it wrong to say yes?

((It's a little twisted, yes.))

Oh.

((Oh is right. But things have changed, haven't they?))

I suppose.

((Angel wouldn't rescue you if you were captured by a group of Watchers now, would he?))

((That's right. Keep talking to the voice in your head so that you miss the one time that they notice that something is a little off about the way you are acting.))

((Would he?))

Would he?

Now the Slayer is sending him weird looks as his eyes begin to glaze over. She leaves the shop, one more glance over her shoulder, then gone. So it's just Angel and Xander left. Spike doesn't count, you see. You could he easily ignore him, so he doesn't count. Remember the corner that he always sits in; memorize what it looks like when he's not there. Now, super impose those two images together and you can pretend that you can't see him, too.

A noise at the counter makes him look up. Anya. He had forgotten that she was there.

((She's just a quiet one, mate. Easy to lose track of.))

Yeah, that was it.

((Yeah, that's all.))

Yeah.

((We really should try not lying to ourselves.))

Nasty habit.

((Makes people think you're crazy.))

If they notice. Oh but look, someone's noticed! Angel is crouched down in front of him, Xander standing uncertainly behind him. Angel is saying something and he can see his lips moving, God he can see them moving but he can't understand what's coming out of them. If only he would slow down. Start from the beginning.

((It's been a long time, mate, you need to start over.))

He wasn't very skilled at the listening part. There was never anything to listen to, so why bother? But he was talking to him. He knew because he was less than two feet away from his face and he was looking in his eyes. He frowned, trying to comprehend, because he really wanted to. Didn't want to miss the one time someone was talking to him.

((Say something, you dolt.))

He was trying! Don't you see? He was trying, but Angel was already turning away, talking to Xander. Xander shrugged, glancing at Spike uneasily. He snapped his fingers in his face and Spike looked surprised. He could hear that. So why couldn't he hear what they were saying?

((It's in your head, mate. You don't want to hear them.))

Yes! Yes I do!

((No you don't.))

What do you know?

((Exactly what you do.))

So… why can't I hear them?

((That's for you to figure out.))

Lot of help you are.

Okay, think. Why can't I hear them? He looked back into the face of Angel, trying to read his expression. It was puzzled. Slightly annoyed. It had the look that he had right before him and Darla locked him out of the house.

((Bingo.))

Bingo? I don't want him to lock me out of the house?

((Rejection.))

Oh God, rejection.

((Bingo, mate, bingo.))

Bingo.

"-help?"

He looked up. Help?

((Does he need help?))

Do you need help, Angel?

"-need help?"

You need help? Can I help? I'm good at helping, don't listen to the Slayer. Ask Xander. Who helped him put the toaster back together? Okay, so I broke it in the first place…

"-need help?"

I can help!

"-you need help?"

What?

((Interesting, isn't it? If you would just stop trying to twist the words, they could actually mean something important. Just listen, mate.))

"Spike?" I'm Spike. "Do you need help?" Blink. Don't understand. Don't you need help? Angel sighed when he got no response and stood up. "It's no use," he said, shaking his head, "He's pretty gone. How 'bout you guys give me a call if he snaps out of it."

He's walking away. Do I need help? Oh God, he's walking away. Seen that before, yes I did.

((This isn't the same! Wake up! Look! There's your chance! Don't blow it!))

Isn't the same? Because things are different now, right?

((Right!))

Angel wouldn't save me from a group of Watchers now, would he?

((I… I don't know.))

Would he?

"Would you?"

He stopped. His hand on the doorknob and he's turning away from the door and he's looking back at him. "Would I what?"

Spike looks at him uncertainly. Would he? Do I need help? "Save me. Help."

((Listen to your words, mate! They're the key!))

Save me. Help. Problem is, I don't know if he would. "Save me. Help." Maybe we should find out. "Save me? Help?"