Vortigern
Vortigern rested his head against the roof behind him, propping his shoes up on the gargoyle that overhung the drain, leering out at the world below. They really weren't noticable until you got up onto the roofline, or had really sharp eyesight.
The curtains in the window of the attic he'd climbed through to get to his high seat flapped in the breeze. He watched them idly, thoughts spinning through his head.
"Thought number one...I'm going mad. Thought number two...someone for reasons unknown is doing this to us."
He tapped his fingers against the rooftiles, brown eyes thoughtful.
"And who would do that? Dru would...but I don't think she could. Ashtoreth could...but I don't think it's her style. I don't know who...but it strikes me as feminine. Nyx could, but she wouldn't. Same for Priss."
He wiped stray tears from his cheeks.
Every fear he'd ever had about Spike in the abstract had been realised in front of him in living (well, not quite) vivid colour. And it had scared the shit out of him. He watched the sun begin to set and shivered slightly as the tears continued to fall.
He couldn't shake the idea that it was a someone. Doing this to them.