(Set after NFA, and heavily Spuffy)
Against all odds, Spike had somehow survived the Fall of Los Angeles. He, and the others for that matter, had all been sure this was their last stand. But in the nick of time, something brilliant had happened, and the tides had changed in their favor. Of course, Spike, who had been distracted by fighting the dragon, had no idea just what that something had been, and when it was over, he wanted nothing to do with Captain Forehead and the others. He had slipped away quietly to tend to his own, numerous wounds, while the Poof took care of the others.
But his alone time was short lived. There was a knock on the door of his flat not long after he had sat down with a glass of bourbon. Grumbling, he got up and answered it. On the other side stood Harmony. Spike, whose patience had already run out glared at her.
"What, Harm? What could you possibly want now?" He glared at her. She took a step back, looking panicked.
"Angel said you might be hurt, Blondie Bear. I only came to see if you needed any help. There's no need for you to bite my head off." She pushed her way in, watching his face contort in pain as she bumped his shoulder. "How badly are you hurt?" She reached up to remove his shirt so she could take a look at his wounds. Spike pulled away, glaring at her.
"Hands off, Harm." He moved away from her, walking back to the chair, making it there a second before his legs gave out. He hurt all over, but he was determined not to show it. "I know you better than that. You don't do anything unless it benefits you in some way. So what are you expecting to get out of this one?" She glared at him, fury twisting her face.
"How dare you, Spike. After everything you put me through? I came here to help you, and this is how you react? Forget you, Spike. I wish I'd never met you. No, I wish you'd never met HER, that's what I wish." She turned and headed back out the door, leaving Spike more sullen than before.
"Careful pet. You never know what your wishes might cause." Sighing, Spike stood up and hobbled to the bathroom for a shower. The instant the water hit him, he knew just how badly he had been wounded. As the hot water relieved the tension of sore muscles, he sighed. He knew one thing, and only one thing. There was no longer a place for him in L.A. Whatever had been holding him there was no longer as important, and he needed to get out of Angel's shadow. He needed some way to make a fresh start for himself, to be a better man than he was at the moment. So he made an altogether rash decision to return to his roots. He was London-bound.