Spike just wanted a bloody drink. And, well, a bloody drink. Figuratively and literally. So he'd headed out for the butchers and the pub. He would have thought there was just some weird zombie party going on somewhere, if he didn't recognize the scent of rotting dead flesh. He figures he's seen worse and keeps walking. For a while, they ignore him. After all, he smells dead too (though not rotting, thanks). But somehow they decide he's still of interest, and he realizes he's being followed, and more and more and falling in (and falling apart) behind him. His eyes dart around, spotting a light on in a house. Wait, he knows where he is. "Thank the powers...if there are any..." he mutters, rushing for the door and knocking loudly. "Hey, anyone home? Let a bloke in, will you?"