SX

Two years ago, Spike would’ve been in a feeding frenzy right about now. Access to the Scoobies’ meeting place, the temporary trust of the Slayer and her gang, no Angelus to meddle with his plans. Instead, he was tied up in Rupert Giles’ bathtub, being pumped for information by the Slayer’s little witch. Because, two years ago, Spike didn’t have this bloody chip in his head. The chip that stopped him harming a hair on any of these weak little mortal heads. The Initiative had domesticated him. He was no better than a house dog, locked up in this dreary place for the Scoobies to poke fun at and demand information from. (Not mine)