“Spike, listen!”

Scratching. Rustling.

Above him.

Spike glances up, eyes narrowing, lips curving into a grin.

“Someone’s in the ceiling…”

He’s teasing, taunting, toying with his prey before he pounces. He takes a deep breath, inhales the fragrant scent of Slayer. Focuses his heightened senses, hones in on the sound of her crawling through the ceiling space. Every movement reverberates like thunder in his ears. Silently, he tracks her, stalking through the lounge, down the hallway.

Without warning, he jabs upward with a pole, smirks at the sound of her skittering backward.

He’s got her right where he wants her.