LOS ANGELES, 2003

Following his recent violent death by explosion in a sacrifice to save the world, an almost inevitable occupational hazard when you're allied with the Slayer, Spike is living his best undead unlife as a noncorporeal form in the Wolfram and Hart law offices, now reunited with a still-kicking Angelus-- just Angel now of course.

When Spike learns of Dracula's intention to visit the very law office, he grins at the idea. They'd seen each other a few more times in a shaky allied rivalry over the rest of the 20th century and into the wee years of the 21st, and it would bring Spike great joy to mess with the older vampire one last time.

Though Spike cannot leave the office he clings to, with begrudging help from Angel he convinces Drac that his ghost form can freely haunt him for the rest of his life.

"Unless," Spike quips, his noncorporeal form wavering in front of Dracula, finally bringing them to the same height as it floats. "You'd be so kind as to return me the eleven quid it took to buy your blasted book back in 1898."

Dracula raises an eyebrow and serenely obeys, tossing a perfectly folded American $20 to the ground in an act of closure. He considers reaching to give a familiar tug of the shock of hair, but of course his hand would merely pass through the ghost's head anyway, just as Spike's hand swipes through the drifting bill, unable to pick it up after all these years.