"Yeah," Spike confirms, because it does figure. He looks relaxed enough with a loping walk and rounded shoulders, but there's a tightness making his face pale until she lowers the weapon, and until he walks close enough to get a good look at her. Faye.

It's hard to trust a familiar face here now - down here, Spike wants to say, like he's finally fallen to Hell from Purgatory. Familiar faces so far have tried to destroy him.

But Faye's not the same. Faye's not a dead woman.

Spike lifts his head to yawn (in earnest, he hasn't slept in over twenty-four hours) and stare at Faye a little longer, and then her choice in hiding spot.

"There? You'll have to climb down eventually. There's got to be a better spot to get a wide view. It'd be safer to move on."

No, where are we. No, what the hell is going on. Not even a, you too?