A monitor went black.
Spike was too busy mentally putting pieces together to notice – things hadn't quite felt right from the get go.
A monitor went black.
Things had tried to kill him.
Nothing so odd there – when a lad lives, no, dies on the run, lookin' for a thrill, that's part of the fun right?
Right!
A monitor went black.
And when a lad decides to get back at somebody what badly deserves getting back at while making a bit of cash (as of yet uncollected) at the same time, stirring up the muck at the bottom of Karma is just part of the collateral damage one creates in order to things done.
Dead right there, mate!
A monitor went black.
But still...
Something moved behind Spike, something large.
The lights went out.
"Bloody hell," The scent enveloping him in the darkness was familiar, dank, carrion, stale. "Oh dear. Oh dearie, dearie dear, whatever shall I do?" Spike almost-sang mockingly, hands flexing, "Either Sunnydale's having a highly selective power-out tonight, or something nasty wants to kill me, I-am-oh-so-quakin'-in-me boots!"
Teeth bared and fists ready, Spike pivoted, and then screamed as something cold and wet hit him square in the face followed by a blow which sent him flying into the now dark monitors, face hissing and bubbling.
In the doorway, Mike and Jeremy silently high-fived before walking away to the theme of Carmen as played by a broken music box.
Maggie, Simon told the yellow rabbit, is the key.